Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 35

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas revenge!” I sang.

In less than a week, I was going to stand up in front of my family and set all of Braeden’s lies on fire. I’d be welcomed back into the family, be in the middle of the Christmas photos, the first to open presents.

And it was all because of him.

Anderson kicked the snow off his boots and unzipped his jacket as he stepped into the warm kitchen.

Sawyer wouldn’t approve, but I couldn’t help but throw my arms around him and kiss him passionately. “You came back!”

His face softened briefly, and he nuzzled the side of my hair.

“You have your aunt Bianca’s party tonight.” He set his helmet on the table. “Figured I owed you for bailing.”

I squeezed my arms around his waist. “You were doing important work.” I lowered my voice, saying, “How does it sound? Can I hear it? I almost don’t believe it.”

“There’s one more piece of evidence we need. You heard your family yesterday,” he warned me. “Braeden’s not going to go down easy. We need to drown them in evidence. Once people have preconceived notions in their head about who they think someone is, they’d rather believe the lie than the truth. We have to build the case.”

I ran to the fridge to get him a beer.

“We got a lead off that data we copied from Preston,” he said then took a sip. “Your aunt Bianca might have what we need.”

“Why would she—”

He held a finger to his lips.

“I don’t know, but we can’t afford to ignore any clues. We don’t have the time, and the stakes are too high.”

“Thank god you’re here.” Uncle Jaime urged us inside. “Your cousins all scattered, freaking little traitors. She’s been up my ass all day about the decorations. Like, woman, it’s just a poker game—beer, chips, Velveeta cheese dip, those meatball things in the Crock-Pot.”

Anderson held up my oversize Crock-Pot.

“God bless you, Evie. Are they ready?” My uncle hugged me.

“You can have one,” I promised.

He followed us into the kitchen, where Aunt Bianca had trays of party snacks ready. Anderson set the Crock-Pot on the counter and plugged it in.

Uncle Jaime grabbed a small ramekin out of the cabinet and practically bounced like a little kid as I dished him up a few meatballs.

“So good,” he mumbled as he spooned one into his mouth. “And you made the cheese dip.”

“It’s not a traditional Christmas dish, but it does have Rotel tomatoes, sausage, and green peppers in it, so they’re holiday colors.”

Uncle Jaime scooped a tortilla chip into the dip.

“Don’t care. Haven’t eaten all day.” He closed his eyes happily. “Sausage and cheese. Don’t make my mistake,” he warned Anderson, “and go for the girl you think everyone’s going to be impressed by. It wears off fast. Find someone who cooks you a big greasy breakfast and doesn’t scream at you the morning of your own holiday party. Stick with Evie. She knows how to make the meatballs.” He grabbed a newspaper. “If anyone asks, I’m on the toilet.”

“Evie, you’re here!” Aunt Bianca floated into the kitchen from the dining room entry. “Have you seen my husband or my children?”

She had been one of the last daughters-in-law to marry into the Murphy clan but was determined to be the best.

Even Grandma Shirley would admit when she’d had a bit too much to drink that even she found Aunt Bianca’s desire for tradition to be a bit much.

My aunt looked up at Anderson looming behind me. “You brought your ‘brute,’ as Shirley would say.” She giggled, covering her mouth. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t be. She just likes to call me that in bed,” Anderson purred.

“My word.” Aunt Bianca fanned her cleavage, prominent in her 1950s dress. “I’m going to go freshen up, then we can set up for the party.”

“Where is her home office?” Anderson asked quietly as we set out the card tables in the living room.

I pointed up above us. “It’s right off the master.”

His mouth was a thin line. “We’ll have to wait until the party is starting.”

The holiday poker evening was a big deal in the Murphy clan. Uncle Jaime had hosted it ever since he’d sold his startup and bought a huge house down the street from his older brother.

“This is the bougiest fucking poker evening I’ve ever been to,” another uncle complained.

“They just keep getting more elaborate every year.” His cousin shook his head.

“Shh!” Uncle Jaime said. “I can barely take a shit in peace as it is.”

“Are those tablecloths on a poker table?” His brother scowled.

“Merry Christmas!” Aunt Bianca trilled, greeting the arriving guests.

Sawyer and Ian slumped in behind their respective parental units.

Henry was immediately surrounded by a swarm of my uncles.

“I don’t want him starting off at my table. I’m going to lose.”

“You can’t eat all of the meatballs,” my dad said as his brothers jostled for food.

Anderson stood quietly in the corner of the room, waiting and watching.

“I cannot believe you willingly came over here.” Ian unwound the scarf from his neck and hugged me.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Ian’s licking his wounds,” Sawyer remarked.

“Still no lead role?”

“As if I’m going to sit there like a wallflower, waiting for my chance to be an understudy. I told him he could shove his promises into the crawl space with the rest of the waterlogged decorations.”

“We’ll be out of here soon, and you can go wallow,” Sawyer said soothingly.

“I’m not wallowing. I’m plotting Winston’s demise.”

“I want to max out my credit card at Nutcracker Nibbles,” Sawyer said. “They have scallop crudité.”

“Can’t. I’m here on a spy mission,” I whispered to her. I grimaced and looked back at Anderson.

He still had that laser-focused look on his face.

“How much money is in the pot?” Granny Doyle took a wad of cash out of her purse.

“Mom!” Melissa raced after her. “Bianca, are you really allowing gambling?”

My dad’s brothers erupted in protest.

“We always play for money.”

“What the hell is this?”

“I’m hosting next year if you all keep trying to ruin Christmas poker night.”

“Let’s do strip poker!” Granny Doyle hooted, which set off the family.

Anderson gave me a pointed look, then those gray eyes flicked to the kitchen.

Looking around furtively, I followed him up the back servants’ staircase to the second floor.

Somehow, even though Anderson was, like, three times my size, he was still moving more quietly than I was.

Unfortunately, Bianca’s home office was right above the living room and in full view from the foyer for anyone who looked up to admire the ornate chandelier. Anderson pressed his back against the wall, keeping to the shadows of the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

The front door opened, and Felicity and Braeden arrived with Aunt Lisa.

“Merry Christmas!” People exchanged hearty greetings.

“You buying into the pot?”

The voices faded away.

Anderson held a hand by his waist, palm down. Without looking at me, he motioned and slid against the wall while I followed less gracefully.

The doorbell rang.

Anderson clapped a hand to my mouth, stifling my shriek, and dragged me into Aunt Bianca’s home office then shut the door softly right as more guests entered the foyer.

“I don’t see how you can do this as a full-time job,” I whispered, bending over and feeling lightheaded as Anderson took careful steps to the laptop on the desk.

He opened it. “Pin,” he muttered, looking around on the desk, then started opening drawers.

“There.” I pointed at a pink Post-it with passwords written on it.

He typed in the date of Aunt Bianca’s wedding year.

“In.” He plugged in a hard drive and set the entire contents of the laptop to copy over to it. “Twenty-seven minutes.”

Antsy, I crossed my arms, rocking on the balls of my feet.

“Stop that,” Anderson hissed.

“The poker game is starting soon. People will be looking for us. Maybe I should go down there so they don’t get suspicious.”

“Gingersnap.” He grabbed the back of my neck, kissing me. “Shut the hell up.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head then kissed me again. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re my cover story.”

“I’m your what?”

He took my hand, pushing it against the bulge in his pants. “If anyone asks, you’re here to swallow my cum.”

His head bent down to claim my mouth again. “You like the thought of that, don’t you?” The kiss deepened. His tongue tangled with mine. “Do you want to swallow it, or do you just want it all over you face and tits? I know where I want it.” He kissed my neck, nipping my earlobe. “I want it leaking out of your ass.”

I swallowed a moan. I wasn’t doing that with Anderson while my family was downstairs.

He reached over, tugging at my blouse slightly as he undid the top button. His tattooed fingers were warm as they brushed against my skin.

“You have the nicest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.” He cupped my breasts under my bra, squeezing gently, then he turned back to the laptop.

I reached for the buttons.

“Leave it undone,” Anderson ordered in a low tone, eyes not leaving the screen. “We need to be prepared in case someone comes.”

Standing there in my aunt’s home office, I tried to be as cool as possible and not drool over Anderson’s expanse of tattooed, muscled chest.

He turned around, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the edge of the desk. “Twenty-three minutes.” He jerked his chin. “Take off your skirt.”

It puddled at my feet.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I slid my palms up his ripped black jeans.

“Only if I have to.” He hooked a finger under the waistband of my panties and let it snap back against my skin.

I slipped my bra off but kept the sheer blouse on, draped over my breasts, alluringly, I hoped.

“This is just for show, Evie. I’m not doing this with you in your aunt’s house. I’m working.” Those gray eyes remained cold.

I wanted to see him lose control. Feel the same addictive pleasure mixed with shame of not being able to control your desires.

I leaned in, just a thin layer of air between us.

My tongue flicked out.

He grabbed my jaw before I could run my tongue down the ridges of muscle. “Don’t touch me.” He shoved me off.

“So you get to fuck with me however you want, but you can’t take it when someone does it to you? How disappointing.”

“I know what you’re doing.” He hands dropped to clench the edge of the desk, the lines of his body dangerously taut. “You live in your dad’s house, and you don’t even have a driver’s license,” he sneered. “You’re not impressive enough to pull that independent sex goddess shtick.”

I was done with men like him. As soon as I blew up Braeden’s life like he’d blown up mine, I was joining a feminist commune.

I ran my fingers over my tits, kneading them, playing with them, and rolling the nipples between my fingers. Pushing one up and bending my head down, I ran my tongue over the nipple.

His mouth parted as I sucked my nipple, then his jaw clenched.

“Nice trick, Gingersnap.” His tone was dismissive, but his eyes were those of a starving man.

My fingers trailed down, down to my panties. My head tipped back. “So good,” I breathed as my hand slipped below the thin band of lace.

A scowl settled on his chiseled features, but his eyes didn’t leave me, tracking the hand that moved under the sheer lace.

“You have me so wet,” I groaned as I stroked my pussy, fingers sliding into the hot wet slit. “Is the bad boy hard enough to fuck me the way I want to be fucked?” I pulled my hand out of my panties. “Taste it.” My fingers slid over the slash of his mouth.

He grabbed my wrist as I tried to force my fingers between his lips, clenching it so tight I thought he’d break it. “Don’t fuck with me, Evie.” His deep voice lowered an octave.

“Or what?” I trailed my nails down his chest. Taunting a polar bear would be safer.

His head cocked, and he stilled. Then I heard a sound outside in the hall too.

Someone was coming.

“On your knees,” Anderson ordered. He grabbed my head, forcing me down in front of him.

The edge of the carpet dug into my knees.

He undid his belt with one hand, the other hand half closing the laptop lid. He wasn’t even fully erect, and it was already the biggest cock I’d ever seen in my life.

“You ever sucked dick, or are you scared of that too?” he crooned as my head pushed back against his hand.

“I don’t know if I—”

“Do it now, or I’ll choke you with it.” There was a threat laced in the words.

The footsteps grew louder.

Circumcised was all I registered before I had that throbbing cock in my mouth.

“That’s right, Evie Murphy.” His voice sounded strained as his hips thrust that thick, huge cock into my mouth.

Before I could gag, he tugged my hair, pulling me off of him. Then his hips snapped again, forcing that huge length down my throat so hard I saw snowflakes.

“Take it. Choke on my cock. I want my cum dripping out of your mouth, all over your tits.”

The door opened. I screamed against the cock in my mouth.

The hand in my hair held me in place as I gagged. Anderson turned his head slowly, his cock in my mouth somehow growing even bigger.

“My word!” Aunt Bianca said breathlessly as I panted through my nose.

“Sorry,” Anderson said, though he did not sound sorry. He slowly pulled me off of him. His cock came out of my mouth with a pop as I gasped for breath.

“Oh!” My aunt’s hands fluttered, and she took a good, long look at Anderson’s erect cock. “Oh my, you are having a merry Christmas indeed.” She hiccupped and took a long drink of her wine, eyes still on his cock. “I don’t want you to miss the poker game, Anderson, so I’ll just delay us a little bit since you look like a man who can last.” She licked her lips.

The door slammed.

“That was close.” I stood up—or tried to.

His large hands fisted in my hair. “I’m not done, Gingersnap. Open your pretty little mouth and finish sucking my cock.”

I licked my lips and leaned forward.

“Shit.” He cursed as my tongue flicked out against the head of his cock. “I really want to fuck your tight little cunt.” His deep voice sent thrills of desire through me.

I put my lips around the head of his cock, just sucking the tip.

“I thought I told you to stop fucking with me.”

Then he buried the full length in my mouth, making me groan. My jaw ached as he fucked my mouth. My pussy dripped as I thought about him fucking my cunt like that.

“I don’t know why your family hates you so much,” he crooned. “You’re a good little girl, taking my cock like this.”

I wanted to beg him, wanted to plead with him to fuck me, give me relief.

I pulled my head back, wondering for a split second if he’d let me. His grip on my hair loosened, and I slipped off his cock.

“Can’t take it?”

I was satisfied that his breathing was as ragged as mine. “I need you in my pussy.”

Hand tangled in my hair, he pulled me upright. But instead of giving me his cock, he tipped me forward.

His fingers dug into my pussy, stroking my slit.

“I want you in my pussy,” I begged.

Fingers tangled in my hair, he guided me back to his cock.

“Keep going.”

I moaned around his cock as those thick fingers plunged into my pussy. He was rough, rougher than he’d been on the motorcycle. Between the cock in my mouth and him stroking my clit, it wasn’t long before I was gushing all over his hand. He yanked me off of him before I could bite down, covering my mouth to stifle the screams.

“How did you not come yet?” I gasped, and he pushed me down to my knees again.

“Guess you have more work to do.” I half collapsed on the floor in front of him, pushing up my tits, squeezing them around his cock.

“You don’t want to swallow my cum?”

I gasped as he fucked my tits. “I want your cum all over me, then I want it in me.”

“Fuck, Evie.” His hand gripped the back of my neck as his hips jerked against my tits while I squeezed.

“You’re making me so wet again,” I whimpered as his control crumbled. “I bet you could—” My breath hitched. “Could make me come just like this.”

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

His tattooed chest rose and fell. He nodded. “Do your trick again.”

I was aching for his cock as I lapped and licked his cum off my tits while he watched, eyes as dark as coal. Nipple in my mouth, I widened my knees, stroking myself as I sucked his cum clean. Too soon, I was shuddering on my own hand.

He kissed me hard, silencing my cries.

“When I finally fuck you, Gingersnap, you’re not going to be able to walk.” He squeezed my breast then swiped my cheek, smearing his cum on my mouth.

“Look who’s eating cum out of my hand,” he said with a smirk as he disengaged the hard drive.

“Asshole.”

“That where you want me to fuck you?”

Aunt Bianca gave Anderson a hungry look when we snuck back downstairs after cleaning up in the bathroom.

“Don’t worry.” He winked at me. “If she starts giving you any trouble, I’ll fuck her in the powder room.”

It was so casual the way he said it, like what we’d just done hadn’t meant anything to him.

It probably didn’t. It was just a distraction, just part of the plan.

You’re blackmailing him, remember? Not dating him.

With guys like Anderson, sex was just another currency to be bartered and traded.

Anderson grabbed his leather jacket off the coat peg by the door and patted the hard drive in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

In the living room, poker chips clacked. Seventies guitar music played until my mother complained, and it was switched to Christmas carols.

“It’s family poker night.”

“You’re staying?” Anderson gave me a questioning look. A look of disappointment, really.

Who cares what he thinks?

“I can’t leave Sawyer and Ian to face it alone. The table needs one more sacrificial lamb.”

He frowned.

“Okay, so here’s the deal: Game nights suck generally. Games with my family, especially, aren’t the greatest.”

A dark eyebrow rose. “What happened to ‘The Murphys are the best family in the world, and you don’t know what real Christmas is unless you’re a Murphy’?”

“That does not apply to poker night.”

He followed me into the living room.

“We just try to survive it, and that means throwing the game early.” I poured myself a drink. “There is an art to losing. Especially if you’re at a table with Whiney Wendell, who is a terrible poker player.”

I pointed at the watercolor seating chart Aunt Bianca had made.

“Anderson!” Bianca fluttered around him. He offered her a smoldering smile that promised deep, dirty pleasure. Her eyes flicked down to his crotch, then she hastily held her wineglass to her mouth.

“I didn’t know you were coming. I don’t have you on the chart.”

“He can have my spot!” me and the other two Murphy Misfits shouted in unison.

“I’m up first!” Sawyer yelled, kicking Ian so he fell down hard in his chair.

Anderson took her seat.

Uncle Jaime clinked his spoon against his beer bottle. “First round of the poker tournament begins now.”

“You’re not even trying,” Anderson complained as, on the first hand, I pushed all my chips to the center of the table. “I know you don’t have anything higher than double kings.”

“You don’t know. I might have a royal flush.” I smiled at him.

“Yeah,” Ian added, “me too. All in.”

Whiney Wendell pushed up his glasses. “It’s statistically unlikely that both of you have a royal flush.”

Anderson made a disgusted noise and said, “Fold.”

“No, just put the rest of your fucking chips in.” I tried to move his chips, but he slapped my hand.

“Just bet,” Sawyer urged us, offering me snacks on her plate. “Then we can all do something else.”

Ian and I laid our cards on the table.

“Why are you betting on those cards?” Anderson was appalled.

“Because I want to hang out by the bathtub of meatballs,” I replied.

“Well, Ian wins.” Anderson threw up his hands.

“Dammit!” Ian said.

“Evie, he gets all your chips.”

“Ugh.” Ian’s head flopped onto the table.

“If you’d just bet your fucking chips,” I hissed at Anderson as he laid down three kings, “Ian could be eating meatballs too.”

“I didn’t know what you had,” he argued.

“You should have just asked.”

“That’s cheating!”

“Who cares? It’s holiday poker death roulette.”

Anderson shuffled the cards like he was a blackjack shark and dealt them out.

Ian didn’t even look at his cards. “All in.”

I poked Anderson. He held his hand close to his chest.

“Stop looking at my cards. You’re going to tell him.”

“Oh my god!” Sawyer pushed me. “He’s a card guy. You like a card guy.”

“No, I don’t like him.”

“That’s not what she said when she was coming on my—”

“Mom! They’re having grown-up conversations,” Wendell complained.

“Why did you put my poor baby at that table, Bianca?” Aunt Abby chastised her. “He’s going to get corrupted.”

“Can we hurry this along?” Ian begged.

“Wendell, Evie will show you her tits if you go all in,” Sawyer said around her cheese dip.

“Really?”

“Evie.” Anderson was horrified.

“You were about to fuck Bianca in the powder room.”

“I’m sorry. He what?” Aunt J asked, turning around in her chair.

“We should switch to strip poker,” Granny Doyle declared.

“Anderson isn’t wearing any underwear,” Aunt Bianca blurted out, “so that’s hardly fair.”

Anderson smirked.

My mom looked pained at the table with her sisters, who were falling over themselves, giggling like teen girls at a boy band concert.

Cards were laid down. Anderson had two pairs, Ian had nothing, and Wendell had a pair of jacks.

“Game over. Anderson wins.”

“I want to see her tits.”

Anderson slammed his hand down hard on the table, right in front of Wendell, making the chips jump. “You sure about that?”

My cousin shook his head.

My mom’s sisters viciously flirted with Anderson as we waited for the rest of the tables to declare a winner. Grandma Shirley was managing the clocks so that we weren’t there until three a.m. like that one Christmas.

“See? If you’d just let Wendell win,” I hissed, digging my finger into his hip, “we could have been out of here.”

Anderson had this look in his eye, though, the same one that Snowball would get when she saw the FedEx guy.

He was out for blood.

My family didn’t stand a chance.