Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy
Good Elf Gone Wrong: Chapter 26

As soon as we pulled up in front of my parents’ house, Hudson was on me, pushing off the elf hat, large hand tangled in my hair as he tipped my head back so he could kiss me, claim me.

The whiplash was disorienting.

He had drawn a hard boundary about no kissing. Now this?

Hudson tugged at the strings on the bodice of the elf costume while his tongue tangled with mine.

“Oh my god,” I moaned as he cupped my tits through the wool fabric then slipped his hand into the bodice, his large hands warm against my skin.

“I thought you—this is—” I tried to form coherent words, but it was hard with him teasing my nipples.

He nipped my bottom lip.

“You like it when I grab your tits, don’t you?” he crooned.

“Yeah,” I panted, “but … um …”

His mouth was on mine again.

“I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone as much as you,” he whispered against my mouth. “I want to come all over your face.”

“Mhmh.” The strangled noise was lost against him.

Suddenly, I very much wanted Hudson’s hot cum all over my mouth. I had a sudden image of me on my knees in front of him, running my tongue along his cock, my hand between my widespread legs, doing something that I’d never done before.

The ribbons on the bodice had been worked free, and my tits spilled out.

Hudson dipped his head, finally letting me breathe.

I felt hot as he trailed kisses down my chest.

“St. Nick, fuck, that feels good,” I moaned as he sucked on my breasts, rolling the nipple with his tongue, nipping with his teeth.

His large hands were on my thighs, and I spread them as wide as I could in the elf skirt.

I wanted his fingers to go higher, to give me … something.

This was way further along than I had ever gotten with anyone. My panties were soaked as he teased my nipples, sucking on my tits while his fingers made little circles on my inner thigh.

I didn’t even recognize the sounds I was making—panting, gasping needy noises. I grabbed his hair, pushing him down.

“Knock knock!”

I screamed and pushed Hudson off as a face appeared in the foggy car window.

“Do you want me to take the dough out of the freezer?” Granny Murray yelled through the glass.

I hastily pulled at my top.

“Um, sure. Yeah,” I said. “Please.”

The elderly woman flashed me a thumbs-up. “Carry on. Don’t forget to put your tits away before you come back inside. Astelle is in a state.”

“I should … um …”

Hudson kissed me one more time.

“You want my tongue on your clit, don’t you?”

Geez. When he put it that way … Yes. Yes, in fact, I did.

“I think you probably made your point,” I said, hastily stuffing my boobs back in the top and trying to neaten my hair. “There’s no audience anymore.”

“Your family is watching from the window,” he said.

There was a hungry look in his eyes.

I wasn’t sure if Hudson was still just acting or …

Or what? You think he’s actually attracted to you in your homemade elf costume that is, let’s just say, not quite your size?

“Time to make cookies,” I croaked, opening the car door.

“Don’t pretend to be wholesome,” Hudson said, joining me on the snowy sidewalk. “You liked having my mouth on your tits.”

“I’m making sugar cookies and chocolate,” I said loudly, praying that the cold air would cool the redness in my face. It was hard, considering Hudson’s hand was cupping my ass.

“Gracie was a tiger,” Granny Murray was saying when I walked into the kitchen. “Anyone who doubted the sex in the pickup truck story, eat your words, haters!”

“This is shameful behavior from your daughter, Bethany.” Grandma Astelle was shouting over Granny Murray. “Now we know why Kelly makes such terrible life choices—her older sister was a bad role model.”

Granny Murray put up her hands like a boxer. “Don’t you talk shit about my granddaughter. Good for her for finding her bliss.”

Grandma Astelle picked up her cane.

“Fight fight fight!” my cousins hollered and banged on the table.

“It’s Christmas!” my mother shrieked. “Rob, do something with your mother.”

“Are those two old women really going to fight?” Hudson whispered to me in alarm.

“Ooh yeah. I’m shocked they lasted this long.”

“Granny Murray is going to kill that old woman.”

“Don’t count out Grandma Astelle. She has a sword in that cane.”

“My god.”

“My bad. Didn’t mean to cockblock you, Hudson,” Granny Murray called. “I’m going to kick this ho’s ass, then we’re going to make Christmas cookies.”

“Or we could make cookies right now,” I said, grabbing an apron.

“Boo!” Dakota called.

I whistled sharply, making my family clap their hands over their ears.

“Christmas cookie production is no joke,” I yelled at the gaggle of family members in the kitchen. “I need everyone focused. Baking is a precision art. I have everyone sorted into stations. Directions and diagrams have been provided for reference.”

“Gracie, is this really necessary?” My mother sighed.

“Do you want cookies to give to your friends and neighbors?” I asked her. “Or not?”

Hudson leaned against the counter.

I handed him an apron.

“Put that on. You’re going to get flour all over those sexy black clothes.”

It was an hour into Christmas cookie baking, and I had a rhythm going. Hudson, because he could lift the heavy sacks of flour and really work a rolling pin, was helping my mom and Granny Murray make the dough and roll it out. Dakota was on decorating duty with Grandma Astelle. The littler kids had gotten bored of cutting out shapes, and I’d set them up making their own cookies to give to classmates, away from my operation.

“Kelly and James, that’s too many stars. Please keep track of your production numbers.”

James rolled his eyes.

“You see what I have to deal with in the office every day?”

“She sounds like CEO material,” Hudson drawled. “Maybe you all need a shake-up at the office.”

“Gracie cannot be a CEO. Look at her. She bakes in an elf costume. This is the best she’ll ever do,” James scoffed.

Hudson smirked. “She is with me, so yeah, that tracks.”

James scowled and threw down the cookie cutters. “I’m going to watch the game.”

“You are making fun family memories,” I reminded myself.

Three hours into the cookie making marathon, and the children had already tired of it and had wandered off to go watch Elf.

Kelly was spending more time making videos for social media than actually cutting out cookies. Yes, friends, she was indeed pretending like she had baked these cookies. Never believe anything you see on Instagram. Granny Murray was spending more time drinking than baking. Dakota had taken over the cookie-cutter station.

“This is why you shouldn’t let just anyone make Christmas cookies,” Astelle sniffed. Say what you would about her, but the old woman knew how to decorate a cookie. She had towers of perfectly frosted Christmas trees, snowmen, and reindeer in front of her.

Thank god for Hudson, who had multiple timers going on his phone and was watching the cookies in the oven like a hawk.

Bless people who are self-sufficient.

He must have felt me staring at him because he turned his head.

I made a heart shape with my hands and beamed at him. He shook his head.

We had now been baking for seven hours straight. “White Christmas” had played on my playlist at least fifty times if you counted all the variations. It was dark outside, and the kids were on their second movie. Takeout had been ordered and eaten. Dakota had left to meet up with some friends from school who were in town. Unlike me, who liked to pretend that high school had never happened and I had just appeared one day a fully formed adult, she still kept in touch with high school acquaintances.

Still we soldiered on.

“How you doing there, Hudson?” Granny Murray asked him, hustling back into the kitchen. “I see Astelle gave up.”

The elderly woman had decorated hundreds of cookies then made my father drive her home.

I had taken up her post with the royal icing. Hudson seemed to have the mixing, rolling, and baking under control, which was good, considering my mother had thrown in the towel.

Weaklings.

On a nearby chalkboard, he was neatly keeping track of the cookie shape counts.

“That’s a man who’s digging deep into his military training to survive,” Uncle Bic joked, wandering into the kitchen for more ice for the wet bar. “He must really like you, Gracie!”

“Yeah, I mean, you know,” I said with a helpless shrug as Hudson took another tray of cookies out of the oven.

Uncle Bic reached for one.

“You touch one of those cookies,” Hudson said in a low warning voice, “and I’m breaking your hand.”

My uncle cursed and scurried out of the kitchen.

Granny Murray cackled as she grabbed yet another bottle of wine from the wine fridge.

“Looks like Gracie’s met her baking match.”

I smiled at Hudson after she left.

“Normally, at this point in the evening, everyone has given up,” I said as I quickly, using white and black icing that I had squeezed in both hands, made eyes on twenty smiling Rudolphs.

“Isn’t your family going to give away these cookies to their friends?” he asked, frowning.

“Not all of them. I’ll give some away to the EnerCheck employees,” I said with a sigh. “Besides, it’s Christmas, and making Christmas cookies is tradition.”

“Even if you do it all by yourself?” He slid another tray into the oven.

“Usually Dakota stays,” I said defensively.

Hudson thinks you’re pathetic. If you were someone with a life, you’d be at a holiday party or something right now, not baking cookies in your mom’s house.

Shoot. I liked baking Christmas cookies. I liked the colors and the frosting designs and the smell of freshly baked sugar cookies.

“I’m going to grab more flour,” Hudson said, untying the apron. “Then I’m going to find whatever homicidal maniac thought it would be a good idea to combine Chipmunk singing and Christmas carols and strangle them.”

I smiled to myself.

Then froze, suddenly having a horrible vision of Hudson grabbing the bread or biscuit flour and ruining dozens of cookies.

“I just want to make sure you got the right flour,” I said, rushing into the pantry.

Hudson put back the bag of flour.

“No, that was the right one.”

He didn’t pick up the bag.

“Take off that apron,” he said, voice deep, commanding.

“Why? Is there icing on it?” I asked, untying the apron and slipping it over my head.

“No, because I want to fuck you in that costume,” he said and crushed our mouths together.

He was rough as he pushed me against the pantry wall, the glass jars of flour, sugar, and spices rattling. His hands were everywhere, pulling at my clothes, under my skirt.

I bucked against his hand as he pressed it between my legs.

“I want to come in that tight little cunt of yours.” The deep baritone was hot in my ear.

“Right now?” I squeaked.

He pulled at the ribbons on the hastily tied bodice; my tits spilled out. His mouth was on them, reminding me of why sex in his truck was sounding like a totally amazing idea. Except this time, his hands didn’t just stay on my thighs.

I bit back a moan as he stroked me through my soaked panties.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered harshly. “Are you going to come for me?”

His hand slipped under my panties, and I let out a loud gasp as he stroked me.

“That feels—”

“I could make you come just like this. I don’t even need my cock.”

“I want—”

“You want me to fuck that tight little cunt of yours, hmm?”

He kissed me. My legs were trembling. Only his weight crushing me against the wall held me upright. Two of his fingers dipped in my opening, making me wish it was his cock instead.

His mouth was back on my nipple, sucking it while his fingers played in my pussy. Then he was back in my ear, whispering dark and dirty things to me.

“I want to bend you over on your bed, spread your legs, really spread them, make sure you’re dripping wet. I want your juices running down your thigh.”

I panted against his cheek, imagining it, imagining me bent over for him.

His hands on my clit was not enough.

“I want you to hold your pussy open for me so I can ram my thick cock into your tight little cunt, give you every thick inch, pound into you until you’re screaming my name, make you understand what it’s like to be fucked by a real man.”

Santa, that is all I want for Christmas.

He was stroking me harder now.

“Take me back to your apartment and fuck me right now.”

He chuckled; it vibrated in my chest.

“I am a bad influence on you.”

“I don’t care if I get coal for Christmas,” I choked out, clinging to him, my nails digging into his biceps, “if it means I have your cock.”

I nipped his mouth like he’d done to me. In response, he stroked my clit hard, and I moaned, my teeth scraping down the stubble on his chin.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh my god!” I screamed. “James?” I tried to push Hudson off me while simultaneously covering my bare chest.

Hudson didn’t jump back or curse or act like a normal person would when getting caught in a compromising position. Instead, he dipped his head down to kiss my neck. His fingers still working between my legs.

“Relax. He’s never seen you come before,” Hudson said, voice rough as he continued to stroke me, his fingers swirling around my clit.

“This is … um—” He kissed me hard, swallowing my protest.

My eyes flicked to James.

He was furious. The vein in his forehead popped out, and his nose was red.

“Don’t look at him. You’re mine.” Hudson’s fingers were rough in my pussy. “That’s right,” he breathed against my mouth while James yelled at him, Get off her, and What the fuck is wrong with you, Gracie?

Hudson kept up the pace with his fingers, one hand on my neck holding me in place while he stroked me, flying me higher and higher. I couldn’t stop my breath from coming out in high-pitched gasps, couldn’t stop myself from careening to the edge.

“That feels good doesn’t it? You like what I’m doing to your clit, don’t you?”

I whimpered.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you, Gracie?” he crooned as I moaned again and bucked against his hand while he stroked me.

“Say my name when you come,” Hudson ordered as he gave me one last hard stroke.

Then I was crashing over the edge.

“Hudson, oh my god, Hudson!” His name came out in a squeal.

I clung to him, my heart yammering in my head.

That was better than Christmas morning, cookies, and decorating a Christmas tree.

“Shoot.” I sagged against him.

Hudson chuckled and tugged his hand out from under my skirt, still holding my head in place. He smeared his wet hand all over my mouth then licked it off.

“Delicious.”

“You’re perverted,” my ex choked out.

“It’s only perverted,” Hudson said coolly, “if the guy looks like you. With someone like me? It’s just hot.”

He kissed me again, long and slow, his tongue lazily drifting in my mouth. Then he broke the kiss, holding me by the jaw.

“I can’t believe you let this one go, James,” he said to my ex. “She’s a damn good fuck.”

“What in the world?”

Crap. That was my mom.

“Gracie, what are you doing?” My mother was appalled.

“They were doing having sex in the pantry,” James yelped.

Next Christmas I was staying in a hotel.

“This is obscene,” James was practically spitting. “No decorum.”

“Too bad Astelle isn’t here,” Granny Murray said. “She’d have a heart attack and die, and wouldn’t that be a great Christmas present.”

“I can’t believe you turned into a slut,” James screamed at me.

A cold hand of fear chased off the lingering echoes of pleasure. I was afraid James was about to tell everyone my secret.

Hudson just smirked.

“Best damn fuck on the East Coast. Maybe you just suck at sex, if you’re so surprised to see her come.”

James sucked in a breath. “No, she—”

“Considering I walked in on you fucking my sister, I think fair’s fair,” I said loudly, not wanting this incident to become an even more embarrassing core memory and having everyone in my family question why an almost thirty-year-old was still a virgin.

“Gracie, I thought you let that go. What has gotten into you?” my dad begged.

“She’s jealous,” Kelly said haughtily while my cousins filmed the whole thing.

“Sorry I flaked on the cookies,” Dakota hollered, sprinting into the kitchen. “That dinner took longer than—Oh my god.”

“You’re the one who’s jealous, Kelly,” I screamed at my sister while Dakota silently mouthed, What the fuck?

“You know, I was at this sexual wellness retreat,” Piper was saying over the din, “and they really taught me to get in touch with my inner sexual being. You should try sunning your vagina.”

“I sun my vagina,” Granny Murray said, “but not in the winter. You’ll freeze your taint off.”

“She’s just trying to take all the attention away from me, Dad,” Kelly insisted.

“… and after sex you need to put a bulb of garlic—” Piper was saying.

“Ooh, you don’t want to put anything that can sprout up there. One of the ladies in my book club—” Granny Murray interjected.

“I feel sorry for you, Kelly,” Hudson said. “Maybe one day someone will show you what a real man looks like.”

My sister looked like she’d like that very much.

Hudson’s phone started ringing in his jacket pocket. He slipped away from me and grabbed it.

“Anyway,” Granny Murray continued loudly while Kelly and I screamed insults at each other and my mom begged us to calm down.

“I have to go,” Hudson said, heading to the door.

James sneered. “Oh, to your minimum-wage job?”

I hastily put some cookies in a box and ran out the door.

“Take some cookies for your coworkers,” I said, thrusting the bag at him.

He tilted his head down. “Not your boyfriend, remember. But the grand plan is in progress.”

“Oh, right. The plan. That’s why you stayed to make cookies.” I nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

He leaned in to kiss me.

I closed my eyes, savoring the memory of the pleasure he’d given me.

“Are these enough cookies for your coworkers?” I asked.

“I’m not going to work, Sugarplum. I’m going to get laid.”

“Oh. Oh!”

Right.

I stood there shivering, watching him leave.

Of course, your fake boyfriend wants to go have sex with an actual experienced woman. He probably has a whole contact list full of them.

It felt shitty though, that Hudson would rather go find some other girl to sleep with instead of me. Especially after he’d just had his hands where no man had ever been.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around my chest, watching as Hudson’s truck’s headlights disappeared down the dark road.

“Your sister is right. You are delusional,” I scolded myself as I forced myself back inside.

Suddenly, the prospect of making Christmas cookies didn’t seem as much fun if I had to think about Hudson out with another woman.

“He’s allowed to live his life,” I reminded myself.

Granny Murray was filling Dakota in on the happenings when I went back to the kitchen.

I pulled a tray out of the oven. The cookies were burnt. I dumped the whole pan in the sink then started packing up the finished cookies.

“Life is not in the kitchen,” Granny Murray said magnanimously. “Get in your club gear, girls. We’re going to hit the town. It’s Grandma’s secret medicine.”

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