Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 56462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
It’s only a short descent to Mila’s apartment, and my quick steps eat up the distance in no time. Before I know it, I’m jimmying her living room window open. This whole breaking and entering thing would have been a shitload easier if she had been at her old family home. I could have shot myself down the chimney like I usually do, but I get it. Not a lot of homes come equipped with a fireplace anymore, and if they do, they’re electrical. We Santas have had to evolve and find new and exciting ways to be criminal masterminds. My personal favorite entrance is through the doggy door. Don’t ask me how I manage it though. It’s not pretty, especially when that doggy door belongs to an angry Great Dane named Diesel. I almost lost my manhood with that one.
My booted feet come down in Mila’s apartment, and the moment I close the window behind me, her familiar scent fills the air. I can’t help but breathe it in, pacifying the obsessive demon within me, but it won’t last long, not now that I know what’s on offer.
I haven’t been through her new apartment before, so I take a moment to glance around, familiarizing myself with her space. It’s small, much smaller than anything I’ve ever pictured for her. I’ve always seen her in a big home with space for a family pet to run, or a big kitchen to mess up every night. But here? I don’t know. There’s no way in hell she’s happy here.
She’s lived in a few different homes growing up. Her mom always had her moving around through her teen years. She was always in modest homes with small yards, but when she moved in with her dad, I could see how much she loved it there by the homemade cookies on the kitchen counter and the mess that was always left behind from it. Sugar and flour were scattered from one end of the kitchen to the other, and judging by the way the flour was up against the walls, I can only assume their baking adventures had turned into a food fight at some point. It was the same every year, right up until this past Christmas.
I suppose everything is different for Mila now. This would be her first Christmas without her parents. Though last I checked, she had a douche of a boyfriend, but I suspect by her desperate need to be railed tonight, that boyfriend is no longer in the picture. Or the fucker has no idea how to please my girl.
The thought has a wicked grin spreading across my face. But to be completely honest, even if Mila was in her bedroom right now with the love of her life cozied up beside her, that wouldn’t stop me from fucking her until she screams. Her boyfriend would simply have to watch me rail his woman within an inch of her life. Perhaps he might learn a few things in the process. Makes for an awkward Christmas day between them. However, that’s not my problem. I’m here to fulfill her every wish tonight, not his.
Noticing a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, I take the four small strides from the living room window into the kitchen and collect the shot glass in my big hand. It’s down the hatch in seconds, and I don’t hesitate to pour myself another shot, welcoming the sweet burn as it travels down my throat.
It’s been one hell of a big night, and if I had to see another glass of spoiled milk that’s been sitting out all night, I surely would have thrown up. There’s only so much milk a man can tolerate. My old man was all about drinking that shit. He has an iron stomach. On the other hand, I pour that shit down the kitchen sink. No one has time to drink two billion glasses of milk in one night. However, the cookies I can always make time for.
The apartment looks as though Christmas has thrown up all over it, and while I’ve never really cared for decorations, I appreciate the effort she put in. As my gaze continues sweeping Mila’s home, taking in the ornaments on the tree and the little figurines left scattered on her small coffee table, my stare lands upon her open bedroom door.
A wave of excitement pulses through me, knowing she’s right inside that room. Right there waiting for me. Just the thought gets me hard.
Forgetting everything else, I make my way toward her, quickly eating up the steps across her living room until I finally reach her bedroom. I hover at her door, my big shoulders almost brushing both frames as I take her in, sprawled across her bed with the soft moonlight shining through her window and illuminating her petite figure.