Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 40

“You have to break up with him.”

I wiped melted cheese and relish from the corner of my mouth. Anderson had left half an hour ago, saying he really had to work and that he’d see me soon. Then he’d kissed me furiously in the shadows under the snow-covered evergreens.

Henry sat down on the hale bale across from mine. His face was still bruised around his jaw from where he and his helmet had been slammed into the ice by Anderson.

“Anderson isn’t good for you.” Henry leaned forward. “I’m not asking you anymore, Evie. I’m telling you as your older brother. Break up with Anderson Wynter. Now. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to hurt this family.”

Over his shoulder, I saw Sawyer and Ian making their way over.

“I’m not doing this to be controlling,” Henry added, patronizing bastard.

“Really?” Ian asked, standing beside me. “Because it kind of feels misogynistic and controlling.”

Henry looked up at him, scowling, then back down at me. “Anderson doesn’t love you, Evie. He doesn’t care about you, and he certainly doesn’t respect you.”

“And you’re what? The protective older brother? That’s a first,” Ian shot at him. “I bet you’re just jealous because Anderson kicked your ass in front of everyone.”

Henry rested his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be naive, Evie. A man like Anderson doesn’t fall in love, especially not with a girl like you. He’s just using you to get to me.”

“A girl like her?” Sawyer demanded.

“Evie’s awesome. Of course Anderson wants her.” Ian shoved our brother’s arm off me.

“You’re not going to fight me, Ian,” Henry scoffed.

“I will.” Sawyer rolled up her sleeves.

Henry looked down his long, thin nose at her then stood up, adjusting his jacket. “Break up with him, Evie. I’m warning you.”

Braeden dragged Henry to the rec room after we’d arrived home. “You need a drink.”

Ian helped me ferry the empty coolers to the kitchen. Sawyer had already left for an early-morning wedding in Connecticut. The triplets had gone to Cousin Nat’s for a sleepover, and Granny Doyle was going “out on the town,” as she put it.

Ian took a call in the living room to talk one of his cast members off a ledge, who was complaining loudly and angrily into the phone receiver that the theater owner hadn’t paid the power bill.

“Four more days until Christmas,” Ian reminded her.

Four more days.

The anxiety churned.

I turned on the water in the sink full blast and started scrubbing pans.

I had no job. I was still on my parents’ shit list, and now my brother hated me. I’d put all my chips on Anderson.

And it worked, I reminded myself.

We had proof against Braeden.

A rush of joy filled me as I imagined the big reveal.

Anderson would make a big, dramatic speech, and Braeden would be thrown out.

My family would tell Anderson how clever and brave he was for helping me and how he must really truly love me.

Or must be blackmailed.

We were more than blackmail buddies, right? We’d had sex multiple times. He’d played hockey with my family, decorated cakes, and fixed my window. Even Snowball liked him. That meant something. Anderson wasn’t just using me, right?

At least not any more than I was using him.

Braeden’s braying laugh filtered up from the rec room, making me jump.

After tiptoeing over to the door to the basement stairs, I shut it softly. I wished I’d asked Anderson to install a lock on the attic door the last time he’d been here.

I wished Anderson was here.

Opening the cabinet, I stashed away the last of the now-clean platters.

I would have gone to Nat’s if I’d realized Braeden was going to be here all night. She and my aunts were all helping the triplets get ready for their big-girl jobs at Svensson PharmaTech, giving girl-boss advice.

I didn’t have anything to contribute. I’d just be the awkward third wheel in the corner like I was at most sleepovers.

I tried to channel Anderson and quietly creep up the stairs to my attic bedroom, worried that Braeden would hear me go upstairs.

I lay there in the dark.

I should sleep. We had the mandatory holiday hike tomorrow. Good, wholesome Christmas fun in the blinding snow in the mountains.

But I was afraid. Braeden’s car was still parked in front of the house. That meant he was still here, in the house. What if Henry let him stay the night? Braeden could come up to the attic whenever he wanted to.

I pulled the covers over my head. The clock ticked.

My alarm would sound in a few hours so I could pack hiking snacks.

The house creaked.

“It’s just your imagination.” I curled up under the comforter.

Just as my heart started to slow, I heard another creak.

Someone was coming up the stairs.

I pulled the covers down to my nose.

The latch on the attic door didn’t catch properly, and a thin strip of yellow light from the bulb in the stairwell splayed out over the plywood nailed to the bare joists.

Suddenly, a shadow blackened out the light. The door creaked open.

“Go away!” I yelled.

There was a heavy sigh.

The silhouette in the door was too broad shouldered to be Braeden.

The man turned away.

“Wait!” I scrambled out of the saggy bed and hopped across the cold room.

Anderson paused a few steps below me on the narrow stairs.

“Wait, please. I thought—”

A scowl marred his handsome face. “You thought I was him.”

“He’s in the rec room. I’m surprised he and Henry didn’t go after you when you snuck in.”

“I came in through the window.”

“The window?” I hissed. “My parents could have seen you.” Grabbing his jacket sleeve, I looked around furtively. “They’re going to flip their shit if they replace you here.”

“Guess you’ll have to be quiet, then, when I’m making you come.” He dragged me to him.

I tumbled off the narrow step into his arms, and he carried me up the last couple of steps. He set me down on the rough plywood floor, kissing my face, my hands, my hair.

His head almost bumped the low attic ceiling as he maneuvered me back toward the bed.

“I thought you had to work.” I panted as his hands were everywhere, pulling off my nightgown, on my tits, and cupping my ass.

“I can’t concentrate.” He nipped my lip. “All I can think about is you coming on my face.” He pushed me back onto the bed. The mattress bowed under me.

He struggled out of his heavy leather jacket and tossed it onto the floor with his motorcycle gloves. He pulled his T-shirt over his head then leaned forward, gripped the back of my head, and kissed me, his tongue slipping into my mouth while his other hand worked his belt buckle loose.

“I want your pussy so fucking bad, Gingersnap.” His belt buckle hit the floor with a dull thump.

Anderson mouthed me through my panties then stood up, kicking off his pants.

“You are really playing with fire, riding that motorcycle with no underwear.”

“I thought you liked riding my bike with no panties.” He straddled me on the bed, leaning down to kiss me, his cock thick and hard against my thigh.

His fingers pushed my panties to the side so he could stroke my pussy.

“Don’t make me come yet.” I kissed his chin, whimpering as he rolled two fingers around my clit.

“You giving the orders now?”

I dragged him down by his hair so I could nip his lower lip. “Yeah, I am.”

“You sure you want to boss me around?”

“Haven’t you heard? I make terrible and impulsive decisions.”

“Fine.” He rolled off me and put his hands behind his head. “Let me see what you come up with.”

“You think I can’t come up with something better than getting my ass fucked in your shitty garage?” I asked casually, straddling him.

Sitting back on my thighs, I drew my hands down the array of tattoos.

“Boring.”

I grabbed his cock, twisting it.

He swore. His hands came down to grab my hips, and his head tipped back.

“Take off your panties, Gingersnap. I want to see your cunt.”

I had to do some gymnastics to remove them. I was definitely going to start yoga again as soon as I got some disposable income.

His fingers digging into my ass, he hauled me up to him. As he held me hovering above him, his tongue flicked out to lap at my dripping slit.

“Definitely the sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted.” He gave me another long, slow lick.

I held on to the squeaky metal bedframe for dear life.

His strong arms kept me from sinking onto his face. His tongue dipped into my opening then traced up my pussy to my clit, circling it, teasing it. He mouthed me harder, his tongue licking my whole pussy then sucking and licking my clit until I was coming all over his face with deep, throaty moans.

“Turn around so I can eat your ass out too.”

He started again after I turned, his tongue on my clit, in my pussy, at my opening, then higher.

So worth the painful waxing to listen to him tell me how nice and smooth I was and how he could eat my ass out all night.

“All night?” I moaned as he tongue fucked me.

I had to lean forward to rest my hands on that massive chest. My thighs ached, my hips burned, but still, he ate me out. I rocked back against his face, my hips making needy circles as his tongue took me higher, higher, then I was coming all over his chin.

I army crawled off him and turned around. He grabbed me under the arms to pull me up to him.

Panting, I slid two fingers into his mouth. He sucked on them.

“Now I want you to fuck my pussy raw.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Wait,” I yelped as he had us flipped, condom in hand. I took it from him. “You only get to fuck me if you’re wearing that helmet.” I kissed him. “And the boots.” I bit his lip. “And the gloves.”

I lay back on the rumpled blankets, humming happily as I watched him work his feet into his heavy boots, buckle them, then pull on the gloves, one hand then the other.

In the soft glow of the light that came through the doorway, his muscles rippled as he reached for the black motorcycle helmet.

“Wait.” I gestured him forward then kissed him long and slow. “Now do it.”

The helmet came down, hiding his face, now a mask of black on the ripped body. With the tattoos and the helmet, he was every stalker-boy romance fantasy come to life.

“Gimme, gimme!” Gleeful, I rubbed my hands together.

He took a step toward me. The floor creaked.

I raked my nails down his washboard abs, running my tongue down his thick shaft, nuzzling his balls, which I wanted shooting his hot cum into me.

His hand was heavy on my head as I gave him another long, slow lick down his cock.

“No.” The deep voice, muffled by the helmet, was doing all the things for me. “I want to fuck your pussy. Put the condom on,” he ordered. “If you don’t, I’m going to throw you onto the floor and fuck your ass instead.”

Not that I didn’t crave it, but I wanted to watch my fantasy come to life.

Looking up at the faceless helmet, I slid the condom onto his thick cock, rolling the heavy balls in my hand one more time.

His gloved hands gripped my shoulders. He shoved me back onto the bed and ran those heavy gloves down my chest, over my tits, and down to my hips. Gripping my thighs, he spread my legs for him, angling me up.

His thick cock jutted out in front of him. Then he slammed it into me.

Clutching at the quilt, I couldn’t stop the cry that escaped as that pussy-splitting cock filled my aching cunt.

“Oh, it’s so big. I forgot how big it was,” I whimpered as he thrust into me again and again, forcing me to take all of him.

The deep voice hidden behind the helmet was making me crazy, talking dirty to me. “You like my cock in your tight little cunt, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I gasped out as he hit that perfect spot deep in me.

He rutted into me, holding me on the edge of mind-numbing pleasure.

“I’m gonna fuck your tight little pussy raw, Gingersnap.”

“Make me come,” I begged the faceless helmet, clawing at his thighs and running my hands over my breasts.

He grabbed my hands, forcing them above my head so he could fuck me into the mattress, the bed screeching as the screws loosened.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

The helmet bumped against my chin. My teeth clacked together. The hard plastic was cold against my cheek and neck as he held me down, the rhythm more erratic. Then he was shuddering in me.

I cried his name, fogging up the tinted visor of the helmet as I came around his cock while he pounded into me, milking the orgasm.

I pulled off the helmet, needing to see his face. I smooched his brow, laced my fingers in his dark, damp hair, and kissed that mouth to keep myself from telling him how perfect he was.

He pushed himself off the bed—one side was definitely lower than the other—stood up, and tossed the condom.

“Is the bad boy running scared?”

He shook out his hair then put the helmet back on.

Just seeing him standing there in my bedroom, cock half hard already, was enough to make me want him again.

I stood up as gracefully as I could manage, which wasn’t all that much.

“I want to make myself come all over that helmet,” I said breathily, and the helmet did a little shake of surprise.

I blew him a kiss then jumped on him, making him stagger backward as I pressed his helmet down against my tits. “Then I want you to fuck my ass so hard that I—aaahh!”

I screamed as the floor gave way with a loud crack.

“Shit!” Anderson swore, then we were falling, my arms scraping the plywood as Anderson fell through the insulation and the ceiling of the bedroom below—my parents’ bedroom.

My mother screamed, her fancy lotion in her hand, as Anderson’s naked body crashed through her ceiling, plaster raining down around him as we crash-landed on the antique white settee. The short legs splintered, and the cushions thumped to the floor.

Anderson lay there stunned, the black helmet not moving, his arms still protectively around me.

I scrambled off of him to stagger in the wreckage of the bedroom, dust and bits of fluffy pink insulation in my hair, while my mother yelled over and over, “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

My father shouted from the bathroom, which was partially blocked by the collapsed ceiling, “What happened? Was it a raccoon?”

“Really? A raccoon, Brian?” my mother shouted. “It’s Evie.” She glared at me. “Put some clothes on, for God’s sake.”

I reached for a nearby blanket.

“Not my good blanket.”

“What am I supposed to wear?”

Footsteps echoed up the stairs.

Anderson finally managed to rally enough to pull himself upright, out of the wreckage of the settee.

“Damn.” Granny Doyle whistled low as she regarded the scene. “I wish a naked man would crash through my ceiling. You didn’t tell me that was a perk at chez Murphy, Brian.”

My father was stunned. A piece of plaster landed on the floor in front of him as his mouth moved silently up and down.

“Brian, do something!” my mother raged.

“Holy shit.”

There were curses and the sounds of phones taking photos as more of my family members crowded in my parents’ bedroom doorway.

“I told you, Evie!” Henry yelled at me as I cowered behind Anderson, who seemed nonplussed to be standing stark naked with his fake girlfriend’s family staring at him. “I told you to dump him.”

“You can’t dump that.” Nat slapped Henry on the back of the head.

“You can dump that in my bed,” Aunt J crowed.

“My bedroom was right next door,” Granny Doyle wailed. “Ten feet over, Anderson. You have terrible aim.”

“Don’t care if he comes all over the walls,” Aunt J was saying.

“Wait. That’s a thing that happens?” Alana whispered.

“Have you girls been drinking?” my mother demanded.

The triplets tried really hard to look sober.

“Jennifer…”

“They’re grown-ass women, Mel.”

Anderson pulled off his helmet, rolling his neck and shoulders. He didn’t even cover himself with it, just let it hang from one hand.

“You’re not even using a condom!” my mother sputtered.

“See, Melissa?” Granny Doyle hooted. “For all your big talk about hating Anderson, you couldn’t help but steal a peek.”

“Girls, don’t look,” my mother ordered my sisters.

But my sisters and my cousins were all staring.

“Take it from experience,” Aunt J said sagely. “That’s not even fully erect.”

Alexis crossed her legs. “How does that even fit in you, Evie?”

“We are not having this conversation.” I covered my eyes.

“Thank you.” Henry threw up his hands.

“You are free to leave, Henry,” my cousin stated.

“Or stay,” Granny Doyle said, “No judgment. Being bisexual is perfectly okay. Live your truth.”

Anderson winked at him. Henry sputtered a “Fuck you” and stomped out, Braeden behind him.

My dad threw a towel at Anderson.

He handed it to me.

“We came to steal you for a girls’ night, Evie.” Alissa giggled as her sister took a swig from a bottle Granny Doyle was passing around. “But you already have it covered.”

“You’re taking them out, Mom?” Melissa complained.

“Duh, Aunt Mel.” Nat rolled her eyes while Lauren took slow-motion video of Anderson as he flexed his muscles for her.

I held my towel tighter. It was unfortunately a hand towel, and I was a full-coverage type of girl.

“They can’t go to a big-girl job without ever having seen a penis,” Aunt J argued. “There are rich guys in Harrogate. They can’t be the office virgins if they’re going to replace a hubby.”

“You’re going to lose your virginity?” my mother screeched.

“I bet Evie can tell you a thing or two about that,” Granny Doyly hooted.

Anderson gave me a self-satisfied smirk.

“I need a drink,” my mother moaned.

“I told you when you redid the house you should have installed a wet bar in your bedroom.” Granny Doyle sniffed.

“Wait. They didn’t finish that attic, but they also didn’t put in a wet bar?” Anderson frowned.

“It’s because Brian can’t do shit,” Granny Doyle said to Anderson. “They paid out the ass for a terrible contractor.”

He shook his head.

My mother’s hand fluttered to her chest.

“Where’s that penis flask?” Granny Doyle asked. “Mel, you need to lighten up. This is a good thing.”

“My ceiling…”

“You needed to redecorate anyway. Maybe Brooke Taylor could do a segment on your home renovation.”

“I’ll come fix it for you,” Anderson offered, picking a piece of insulation off his abs.

“Then Brooke really will come.” Lauren grinned.

The triplets giggled. “Yeah, she will.”

My sisters collapsed with laughter.

“Anderson only works if you flash your titties at him,” Granny Doyle said and lifted up her shirt. “There’s your deposit.”

Anderson recoiled.

“Evie, put your bra on and comb your hair,” Aunt J ordered. “The strip club cover charge goes up at midnight.”

“Strip clubs? You need to clean up this mess right now!” my mom yelled.

“Just hang in my room, Mom.” Alana dragged my arm. “We need Evie to come to girls’ night. She’s the one who can point out the nice dicks.”