Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“Want or need?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question. I don’t usually offer personal cab services in my Bentley.”
My heart is pumping so fast, it’s thumping in my ears.
“So, say it again,” he says. “If you meant it, then say it. If you didn’t, then don’t.”
I take a deep breath, teetering on the edge of loved-up madness.
“I meant it. I knew it from the very first moment we locked eyes in the grotto.”
“Then say it. Tell me.”
My heart screams, truly alive for the first time in years as I bare my soul.
“All I need… is you.”
16
REUBEN
Imake a sleepy Tiffany a hot chocolate before I depart for the mall. Shame I don’t have any squirty cream that she requested on the top.
“I’ll rectify that with my next groceries delivery,” I tell her, “I’ll order a crate of the stuff, and we’ll use it for considerably more than hot chocolate.”
“Promises, promises,” she says, taking a sip of the hot drink.
I shrug my jacket on and grab my keys, and I can’t resist the temptation.
I take the mug from her hands, place it on the counter, take her beautiful face in my hands, and kiss her.
She rakes my hair and our tongues dance a wonderful chocolatey dance.
“If only you could stay,” she says as I break away.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” I stroke her hair, “you rest up. I’m sure you’ll need plenty of energy for later.”
Her pout is so quirky, it gives me a rush of adoration. It’s so her.
It’s so hard to say no. But I can’t let the kids down.
Still, one last kiss won’t hurt.
That one last kiss lasts all the way to the front door – a giggly dance and biting of lips that has my cock hard all over again.
“You’re incorrigible,” I say and give her ass a slap before I step outside.
“Hurry home!” she says as I get in the car.
Home.
Home is where the heart is, they say.
My home – big and empty – but not right now.
I watch her in the rearview mirror, waving as I turn out of the drive. I give a toot of the horn and a wave back.
Shit, I’m going to be late.
I’ll have to throw my Santa costume on like a madman and sprint to the grotto.
Evelyn and Jen will manage the line until I get there. They are as tireless when it comes to charity work as I am, turning up without fail whenever we have an event on. Jen is a wonder with children, having had five of her own – all grown up now and flown the nest. Her face always lights up when the festivities start, engaging with the youngsters.
If she was twenty years younger – and single, not married – she could have captured my heart when I first met her. Could have. Her curvy figure would have driven me wild, and I can’t deny I would have been fascinated by her huge tits and voluptuous ass. Still, even if she had been twenty years younger and single, not married, when I met her, our incompatibility would have been obvious when we first walked past the kink and lingerie store at the top of the mall together.
I don’t get it, she’d told me. Why would people be into all that stuff? Imagine being hit by something for fun. Weirdos.
That would have been it for us.
I could never deny the man I am – the real Reuben Sinclair. I attempted that with Jeanette, my ex-wife, for far too long, and still she left me. If I was ever lucky enough to find ‘love’ again, I’d have to be certain it would be someone who could ‘love’ and accept all sides of my nature, for better or worse. The idea of a soul that could ever match with mine has grown more and more obscure.
I’d given up on the idea of ever meeting such a woman until I found Tiffany sitting on my lap, and now…
I have no idea.
Traffic isn’t too bad through London, lucky for me. I pull up at the mall with just enough time to park up, grab my holdall from the boot and dash in through the rear entrance. I change into my Santa costume in the nearest toilet cubicle, and make sure the fake beard is in place over mine.
“Ho, ho, ho,” Evelyn says as I arrive at the grotto. “Looking good, Santa baby!”
Oh, if only she knew how much this Santa wants a baby of his own.
Playing Father Christmas is a beautiful torture – the stream of happy children passing through is like having a carrot dangling continuously at the end of Rudolph’s nose. Even the sliver of hope that Tiffany could need me the way I’ve been needing a woman like her, is a terrifying carrot to contemplate. The thought of that sliver of hope disappearing already gives me shivers.