Good Elf Gone Wrong
-- EXCERPT: Knitting clutched in my hands, I turned to the bad boy sitting next to me. “Do … um …” I cleared my throat. “Do you have a girlfriend?” His finger paused on the page he was turning. He fixed those pale-silver eyes on me, a dusty gray like the winter sky. “No. Why? Are you offering?” “Sort of. See, I kind of need to break up my sister and her boyfriend. She’s dating my ex. He’s a jerk. It’s complicated. But I need you to be my boyfriend so I can ruin her wedding. I don’t know if you do that type of work?” I smiled hopefully. The book closed with a loud thud. He looked angry. “Er, never mind,” I squeaked and held up my knitting. “I’ll get started on those baby socks. Forget I said anything.” But he didn’t go back to his book. “So you want a fake boyfriend.” “Um, yeah. I mean that was the plan. But plans change …” Those ghostly eyes still locked on mine, he leaned over, his huge body crowding my space. I scrunched against the window. “You sure you can handle it?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice. He smelled like leather and the winter wind. No. No, I don’t think I can. I swallowed. The empty Advent calendar was digging into my side. “Yes,” I squawked. “Prove it,” he said, his breath cool on my cheek. He twisted out of his jacket, the ridges of muscle under the tight gray T-shirt flexing and rippling as he shrugged off the garment. “Give me a hand job.” The baritone voice deepened. “I have my jacket on my lap. No one will know. Just go for it.” My eyes were about as big and round as Pugnog’s and ready to pop out of my head. “Unzip my fly,” he breathed against my mouth, “and stroke my cock.” My stomach was flip-flopping. The air between us was supercharged, and my skin felt tight and prickly. “I-I can’t,” I stammered. He huffed out a laugh, smirked, and pulled his jacket back on, the leather creaking. “Thought so.” He sat back in his seat and opened up his book. “You’re weak. You have an elaborate revenge plan all mapped out, yet you clearly can’t handle having a fake boyfriend.”
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