Page 117 of Elf-ish

I can’t fucking take it because I know what this moment means.

We’re making love and I’ve never done this before. Never felt this way.

I’m certain I’m having a second stress cardiomyopathy incident. My heart is shattering, and yet I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Not us or her.

As I slowly drag my dick through the heat of her channel before surging forward, I feel every spark of her warmth and squeeze of her attempts to keep me inside her, filling her.

I release her head and reach for her clit, but she pushes at my wrist.

“My turn,” she whispers, eyes locking on mine for a second. It’s too much. The heat in them. The hope.

I can’t look. Instead, I kiss her hard and deep, like my hips flex. Angelica wraps both her legs around my waist, clinging to me as we ebb and flow like a sleigh up and over snow-covered hills. Up we lift and down we fall, until finally, I can’t take it anymore.

I clutch her hip and drive faster, snapping my hips in response and tapping her deeper. Her head tips back and she calls out my name, like she’s begging me to hurry.

Don’t you leave me, Jude.

It whispers through my head one more time, and I race to reach whoever it is that needs me. Wanting it to be her. My angel. My Angelica.

Her mouth falls open and her eyes roll back, and she lets out a surprised cry, as her body tightens. Her pussy squeezes me as she falls over the cliff while I continue to climb, climb, climb, and then crack, spilling inside her.

“Fuck,” I grunt as the release is like angels singing and bells tolling, and I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me. Collapsing over her, I breathe in her scent, forcing my senses to memorize the fragrance.

Sugar and spice and sex. Us.

I roll to the side, taking her with me, and we stay wrapped around one another until I pass out, dreaming of her over me, begging me not to leave, and leaning in for a kiss to pull me back from endless darkness.

chapter 37

[Jude]

I wake with a jolt.

Rolling my head side to side, I sense I’m alone. A blanket covers my still naked body, and I sit upright, prepared to call out Angelica’s name until I notice her uniform and shoes are gone.

Falling back to the pillows, I comb my hands into my hair and hold them at the top of my head. Staring up at the ceiling, just past the star on the top of the two-story tree, faint light seeps through the glass dome.

Morning?

I pull back my left arm and check the silver watch on my wrist.

Officially, Christmas.

Although wasn’t it already Christmas last night at midnight? When I said I didn’t celebrate the holiday, and yet I did, making love to a beautiful woman, who has clearly disappeared this morning.

I turn my head toward the pillow where she slept and find a small package, wrapped in green paper with a red ribbon on top.

Slowly sitting upright again, I pick up the box, hesitating with it in my hand like I’m holding an explosive instead of a gift.

Maybe it is meant to implode my heart because I don’t receive many gifts.

Pulling at the ribbon, it easily releases. I flip the square package and unwrap it with care, like I want to save the pretty paper. Once unwrapped, I flip the box and pull off the lid.

Inside is a pocket-sized copy of A Christmas Carol. When I pick it up, something falls out. A flat silver disc with a rudimentary angel on it. One complete with wings and wild hair and a long flowing dress.

Flipping over the silver medal, the back reads: a pocket angel.

I softly smile as I run my thumb over the raised design and then thumb through the hand-sized novel.