Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy
Good Elf Gone Wrong: Chapter 32

“That asshole.” I paced around Dakota’s room. “Did you see him with Kelly?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted him to do? Flirt with her?”

“That wasn’t just flirting,” I declared, hoisting up my bottle of wine. “They were practically fucking right there in the living room.”

I took a swig from the bottle. It was another of the expensive ones Dakota had pilfered from James’s wine cellar. I needed alcohol after watching Hudson with Kelly, him all over her, whispering to her. I knew he was talking shit about me. That triumphant smirk on my sister’s face confirmed it.

Before I could burst into tears in front of everyone at the party, Dakota had grabbed me and loaded up a box of food and stolen wine. Now here we were.

I’d run away like a child, again.

“Hudson is mad that I didn’t sleep with him,” I said dejectedly. “Now he’s letting Kelly stroke his ego, among other things.”

“If he’s that kind of guy,” Dakota said, “so what if he doesn’t like you?”

“Part of me, the inner romantic who believed that every girl would find her Prince Charming, the part who crushes hard on unavailable guys, she secretly thought Hudson might be falling for her,” I admitted. “I guess I thought he was maybe warming up to me, that maybe he did like me. Hudson saved me in a bar fight, he baked cookies with me, he helped me decorate, he chopped all that wood, and he went shopping with me.”

Dakota sighed and poured herself more wine.

“Here’s the deal, Gracie. You know I love you, and that I’m your biggest fan and supporter.”

“You don’t have to say it,” I said miserably. “I know he’s out of my league.”

“Hell no! You’re out of his!” My cousin slammed her mug of wine on the nightstand.

“You practically run EnerCheck, you can cook for a hundred people like it’s nothing, you can bake, decorate, plan a major wedding, and you volunteer. Hudson is a dumpster fire compared to you. He’s sex obsessed, doesn’t have a career, has a bad attitude, lies, and thinks sleeping with Kelly is a fantastic way to blow off steam. He and Kelly are made for each other—bad boy and bad girl.”

“He’s not all bad,” I said weakly. “There’s a good man in there. I just know it.”

“It’s a myth,” Dakota said flatly. “That’s how bad boys lure nice girls in so they can use them for free food and a place to say. You heard Gran. Hudson is a hobosexual. Good girls don’t tame bad boys. Bad boys just drag good girls down to their level, use them, then leave them and move on to the next mark.”

“I could change him.”

“Your skills at rationalizing your own delusions are legendary.”

“I’m just supposed to watch Kelly steal another of my boyfriends?” I cried.

“Fake boyfriend. Let’s take, like, three steps back.” Dakota made a rolling motion with her hands. “Hudson’s here to break up her marriage.”

“I think he’s falling for her for real,” I said miserably. “Kelly has that effect on men.”

“So what? Even if he does fall for her, it’s not going to last.”

“Everyone is going to talk about it,” I wailed. “I’ll be planning her wedding again this time next year.”

“Let’s be honest: a man like Hudson does not marry. At worst, he’ll get her preggo,” Dakota said confidently.

“Oh my god. He’s going to get her pregnant.” I collapsed on Dakota’s bed.

“Maybe. But he won’t stick around, and neither will she. Their baby will be super cute though.”

“Why is my life such a disaster?” I moaned. “Why can’t men like me?”

“There are lots of nice guys out there.” Dakota patted me on the back. “We’re going to kick your love life into gear next year. New Year’s resolution.”

“I already have a lot of resolutions pending that I have no hope of keeping,” I admitted.

I ate a cheese straw.

“I just wanted him to want me—not fall in love with me. I’m not that delusional. I know I wouldn’t want to be married to him for the rest of my life.”

“If that’s really all you want, you have to play the game,” Dakota lectured as she poured us more wine. “Have sex in a public place. Show him you can be as sexy and exciting as Kelly.”

“I’ll get arrested.”

Dakota looked at me and slurped her wine. “Hopefully, you can convince Kelly not to name that poor baby something dumb like Aspyn with a Y.”

“Kill me,” I groaned.

I am a nervous baker. When I’m anxious or stressed, which recently has been all the freaking time, I bake elaborate desserts. Today, though, I couldn’t make a pavlova. I was baking miniature yule logs for Kelly’s wedding.

With the frosting and the jelly, they would keep a bit better than some of the cookies I was going to make for the wedding. Therefore they were first on the dessert schedule.

The plan Dakota and I had come up with last night to make me more appealing than Kelly had seemed like a fantastic idea after drinking two bottles of very expensive wine.

Now in the cold, sober, and slightly hungover light of day, it seemed like a terrible decision.

My parents’ house was unusually quiet. The men were at an afternoon hockey game for the local minor league team. My mom, sister, and cousins were off for final fittings for the bridesmaids’ dresses and Kelly’s wedding dress.

I jumped when the back door opened. Pugnog sniffed in his sleep but just rolled over.

“Some guard dog,” I told Pugnog as Hudson stamped his boots on the mat outside then stepped into the warm kitchen.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw me.

“You need to keep this back door locked.”

“Why, because dangerous men could sneak inside and have their way with me?”

“Exactly.” The scowl deepened. “That walking, drooling creampuff is not any protection.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes his eye pops out of his head. That is quite the deterrent,” I quipped, using a pair of tweezers to place a sugar mushroom on the miniature Yule log.

“What the fuck?”

If Hudson were really my boyfriend, he would have swept me in his arms and kissed me. Instead, he shrugged off his jacket, still keeping the kitchen island between us.

I wiped my hands on my apron.

The rational part of me reminded myself that Hudson was not going to go for my plan, that there was no audience, and had we already forgotten how humiliating it was the last time he rejected me when I tried to kiss him? And what I was proposing was way more than a kiss.

“What are you baking?” Hudson asked.

“Just more desserts,” I said, straightening up and untying my apron.

“I’ll let you get back to it then,” he said after a moment.

Now or never.

“I want you to come on my tits.”

His eyebrows shot up, and his jaw dropped.

It was almost cartoonish.

“Gracie,” he said warily.

“Fair’s fair,” I said, trying to sound calm and in control and not like someone who twenty-four hours ago was still scared of losing her virginity even though she was almost thirty. “Yes, I know the rules are there needs to be an audience, but you seem to think that having people overhear or walk in on us having sex is good for the mission. People will be back soon because you can’t ever get any alone time in the house.”

Hudson rubbed the back of his neck.

“I actually—”

I started unbuttoning my shirt.

“Now that he’s the one who has to come for an audience, the bad boy is suddenly shy. Guess he can dish it but not take it.”

He crossed the kitchen in three long steps and crushed our mouths together and kissed me hot and heavy. He pulled his T-shirt over his head as he kissed me. The table where I had the miniature Yule logs rattled.

I dragged his head back by his hair.

“I have been up since 4 a.m. working on these. They will not be ruined. In the living room.”

Hudson peeled off his shirt and picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me like I weighed nothing into the living room, where the Christmas tree sparkled and stockings were hung on the fireplace.

“You really want to suck my cock, huh, you little slut?” he growled and nipped my mouth.

“Yeah,” I breathed, undoing his belt. “And I want your cum all over my face and tits.”

He tore at my shirt. The fabric fluttered to the ground, followed by my bra.

His tongue tangled with mine. His hands were all over my tits, squeezing, pinching the nipple. His hands moved down to slide under my skirt. Stroking me through the fabric of my panties, nice ones this time.

“Gracie, I could fuck you like this,” he groaned, as I palmed his hard cock through his pants.

“You’re really playing with fire here with no boxers and that zipper,” I said to him, tugging his hard cock out of his pants.

“You should try it,” he said in a strangled tone, “then I could play in your pussy under the table and bend you over and fuck you at the kitchen sink without having to fuck with those tights you always wear. Fuck, I want to fuck your tight little cunt right now.”

I slapped his chest. “I’m driving.”

“The fuck you are. You already ran over one inflatable Santa,” Hudson growled.

I bit his chin.

“You really want to suck my cock, Sugarplum?”

I was satisfied to hear how ragged his breathing was. “Give me your hot cum.”

Hudson grabbed my ponytail and forced me down on my knees in front of him.

“That’s right, Sugarplum, take it,” he snarled as he buried his thick cock in my mouth. “I can’t wait ’til I’m buried in your hot pussy.”

His hips jerked in my mouth. His fingers tangled in my hair, rubbing little circles on my scalp, guiding my head while I sucked his cock. It was really fucking hot.

“Shit.” He hissed out a curse as I flicked my tongue against the head of his cock.

Thrilled, I thought, “I’m doing this to him. Take that, Kelly!”

I hummed and sucked around his cock, flitting my tongue against the slit then taking his cock deep in my throat.

“Touch yourself, Sugarplum,” he ordered.

I let my hands roam on my breasts, squeezing and playing with them. Then I pulled my head back, felt it strain against his fingers, and he released me.

“Can’t take it?” he asked, eyes dark, voice ragged with pleasure.

“Sit on the couch,” I ordered him. “I told you I want you to come on my face.”

“Yeah?” Hudson sat back on the couch.

I raked my nails down his chest, along the tattoos.

His hand moved to my hair. I grabbed his wrist.

“Nuh-uh. I told you I’m driving. Buckle up, asshole.”

He hesitated then put his hands behind his head.

“You’re better than the photo, bad boy.”

I tugged at his cock, running my hand on it, feeling how thick it was. I bobbed my head down over his thick cock, then back up, letting him feel a little teeth. That’s what the lady on TikTok who gave blow job advice said to do anyways.

“You ready for me to make you come?” I crooned, slipping off my panties. I straddled him.

His eyes were dilated as he looked up at me.

I am a sex goddess!

I lifted up my skirt, making sure he could see what I was doing as I used the wetness of my pussy to lube up his cock.

Hudson cursed as I ran the length of his cock along my dripping wet slit, then shimmied back down to my knees on the floor. His glistening cock jutted up in front of me. I took my tits and squeezed them around his cock.

His hips thrust up, fucking my tits.

“Come on me,” I moaned. “I want your cum on my tits, and then I want you to come in my pussy. Can you do that, bad boy? Can you fuck my tight little pussy?”

“Fuck, Gracie.” His hands were digging into the couch, still obeying my no-touching rule.

I squeezed my tits tighter around his cock, half-gone myself.

“Oh my god,” I said, breathless as he fucked my tits. “You’re making me so wet right now.”

“Gracie, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Kelly exploded. “How dare you?”

“Shit,” Hudson swore as he came all over my face and tits.

My sister picked up a fistful of Christmas chocolates out of a nearby candy dish and threw them at me. I winced as they bounced off my face and Hudson’s bare chest.

“Put a shirt on,” Kelly screamed.

I crossed my arms.

My sister’s eyes were flitting from Hudson, to Hudson’s cock, to his washboard abs, then back to me.

“You … you slut,” she screamed.

“Stop acting like you don’t wish it was you sucking his cock,” I said as I threw a cushion featuring a smiling Rudolph on Hudson’s lap.

“He’s way bigger than James. I can barely fit it all in my mouth. It’s so sad that you’re giving all this up,” I continued, gesturing to Hudson. “No more hot guys with big dicks who are good in bed. You’ll forever be a despised wife, stuck with a husband with no ass, who doesn’t help take care of the kids, while you waste the best years of your life and have to hump a washing machine just to come.”

The words hung in the air while Kelly gaped at me.

“Damn,” Hudson finally said, eyebrows raised.

Kelly pulled out her phone.

“You’re going to pay for this. Mom,” Kelly screamed into the phone. “No, it is an emergency. I need you to come home right now. It’s Gracie. She is out of control.”

My sister sounded shrill, unhinged, angry, like she had just walked in on me fucking her boyfriend.

She stomped outside.

“Where they hell did that come from?” Hudson asked me. He looked a little bit dazed.

Tossing the pillow away, I pushed him back down on the couch and kissed him. I grabbed his hand and guided it between my legs.

“Make me come.”

I kissed his mouth and grabbed his jaw, pulling back to stare at that handsome face.

“Now who’s the slut?”

I kissed him again then pushed his head to my breast.

He sucked my nipples as he stroked me, my hips rocking against his hand. Soon I was coming, his name on my lips, the waves of pleasure making me shudder on his hand.

“Damn,” I breathed against his mouth. “You”—I kissed him noisily—“are a good fuck.”

He traced a snowman in the cum on my chest.

“See?” I said to him, sliding off his lap. “I told you someone was going to show up. Just our luck it was Kelly.”

Hudson zipped up his pants.

“It wasn’t chance. I told her to meet me here so we could fuck.”

What the hell?

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