My Secret Santa Axton (Silver Ridge Christmas)

15. Christmas Magic

Christmas Magic

MEL

I hum along to the radio, playing Christmas music as I hang another ornament on Axton's tree. The soft glow of the fireplace casts dancing shadows across the room, warming me from the inside out. Outside, the storm rages on, but in here, it's peaceful.

I take a sip of wine, savoring the rich flavor as I step back to admire my handiwork. The tree is coming along nicely. It's a mishmash of ornaments. Most are fresh out of their packaging, others are clearly handmade by the Logan twins, others more generic. But the mix of old and new feels just right.

My fingers brush against the locket around my neck, and I can't help but smile. After all these years, all the heartache, and missed chances, Axton and I are finally here. Together. The thought sends a warm flutter through my chest.

I hang a glittery snowflake, remembering the countless Christmases I spent dreaming of this moment. Back when Axton was just the ranch hand I had a hopeless crush on, the soldier who broke my heart, and finally, the brooding ice king who returned to Silver Ridge.

Each version of him left its mark on my heart, but this Axton—the one who finally opened up to me—he's the one I've been waiting for.

The music shifts to "White Christmas," and I chuckle at the irony. We're certainly getting our fill of snow this year. My folks are enjoying the snowstorm at home with Zoe and Amir. The residents at the shelter are holding it down. Even Kenzie, Everett, and the twins are basking in their tiny reprieve from work and obligations.

I glance at the snow-covered mountainside, wondering if Lena's out there. I say a silent prayer for her safety, hoping she left to give herself a little space and that nothing major has happened to her. That she'll find her way back to her children soon.

I reach for another ornament, this one a small wooden horse. It's rough-hewn but charming, and I wonder if Axton made it himself. I hang it front and center, imagining his strong hands carefully carving the details.

Then I stop, and something's missing. I rummage through the box, searching for a tree topper. Instead, my fingers close around a small bundle wrapped in tissue paper.

Curious, I unwrap it carefully.

My breath catches as I reveal a delicate Black angel, her porcelain face serene and beautiful. And I remember my moment with Black Santa.

She's clearly old, maybe even an heirloom. I wonder about her story, about the Christmases she's seen. Gently, I place her atop the tree, completing the picture.

I step back, admiring the transformation. The room feels warmer somehow, more alive. This cabin felt like a showroom. It has the right furniture and intentions but it was missing something. Now, with the tree, lights, and decorations, it feels like a home.

My wine glass empty, I pour myself another and settle onto the couch. The fire crackles, casting a warm glow across the room. I pull a blanket over my legs, feeling content and a little sleepy.

My fingers find the locket again, and I open it, breathing in the faint scent of lavender. "For the one who feels like home," the note had said. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the truth of those words. After all this time, all the missed connections and painful goodbyes, we've found our way back to each other.

The sound of footsteps sends my attention to Axton standing in the doorway. His hair tousled from sleep, his pajama bottoms hang low on his waist, and his eyes hold me captive.

He blinks, taking in the transformed living room.

"What is this?" His voice is rough with sleep, but his eyes are alert as they scan the room. "You're about to get me crowned the best uncle of the year."

I laugh, patting the spot next to me on the couch. "Just bringing a little Christmas cheer to your cabin. Come sit with me."

Axton moves closer, his gaze lingering on the tree. "It's beautiful," he says softly. "I can't remember the last time I bothered with decorations."

"Well, we can't have that," I tease. "Every home needs a little Christmas magic."

He sinks down beside me with his back against the arm of the couch. Then, his large hands grip my waist and slide me across the leather couch. I hold my wine glass steady to ensure I don't make a mess.

I focus on not spilling the wine until my back is again his chest and my ass is pressed…

"Damn. That's all you?" I tease. Suddenly the tree, snowstorm, and anything other than his joy stick is irrelevant.

"Who else would it be?"

"Well, alright then." I sip my wine, and Axton plucks the glass from my hand, draining it dry.

"Home," he repeats, the word sounding almost foreign on his lips. "I guess it is starting to feel that way."

I almost forget the topic of this conversation. Then I remember the tree, decorations…his place feeling like home .

"That's the idea." I breathe in his familiar scent.

Axton's arm wraps around me, and I settle back.

"Thank you," he whispers before kissing my ear, and heat rushes through my body.

My thoughts go left, and I give a weak-ass response to keep from ruining a sentimental moment.

"You're welcome."

We sit in comfortable silence, watching the fire dance. The storm howls outside. I feel Axton's chest rise and fall, steady and strong with each breath.

"I used to dream about this," I admit quietly. "Us, together at Christmas. It never quite felt real."

Axton's arm tightens around me. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here."

"You're here now. That's what matters."

His hand glides from my waist and rests on my thigh. His fingers feather inches from my neglected pussy. I know he's doing this shit on purpose. And she ignores that this is a real moment.

I blame all these feelings we've uncovered, the orgasms he's caused just from grinding and kissing. I blame his dick that's damn near nestled between my cheeks. I blame it on living in a small town and the limited supply of adequate penis.

I glance over my shoulder and his eyes meet mine, dark with an intensity that makes my breath catch. Slowly, he leans in. Our lips meet in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens.

I melt into him, hoping that tonight's the night everything changes. That I'll fulfill my wildest fantasy.

The crackle of the fireplace, mixed with soft music, makes this moment romantic until his finger walks across my thigh and taps against my heat.

I lift my leg, and he groans, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of the too-big sweats he gave me.

" Fuck … You're not wearing any panties."

"Nope."

"Get up."

"What?" I stand, confused about what's happening. Then he pushes me down to the couch and drops to his knees. "What about your?—"

He yanks off the sweats in one motion. His eyes glow with sexual intention, and I'm here for it.

"Lay back."

At this point, I'm doing anything he wants. And he folds my legs over his shoulder right before his tongue drags between my folds.

I cry, gripping his hair.

"Oh, fuck!"

His mouth devours me, licking and sucking as I try not to squirm. His beard tickles and stimulates my sensitive flesh, and his fingers grip my hips, holding me in place.

I'm moaning, panting, and trying not to cum too fast. He licks me with fervor, growling against my skin. My back arches, and I bite my lip, overwhelmed by the sensation.

The flames from the fire blaze behind him, and I'm in another world. One filled with pleasure and warmth.

"Yes, Axton. Right there. Please don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

"Mmmm." He growls, gripping me harder, and his tongue dips lower.

I grip his head, shamelessly riding his tongue. His fingers dig into my flesh, and I can feel his hunger, his need.

And then his mouth closes over my clit, and his teeth graze the sensitive bud.

"Fuck... Yes! Axton!" My body shudders, and a rush of pleasure rolls through me.

I'm a mess. His touch pushes me over the edge. My thighs shake, and my toes curl, and I'm crying and screaming, not caring if they hear me in town.

"Are you ready for round two, Melanie?

The sinister way he says my name is quickly forgotten when his tongue swirls. His hands move to my ass, lifting me off the couch and spreading me wide. Then he laps up the wetness dripping from my pussy.

"I can't hear you, baby."

"Yeah... Yes..." I moan, fisting his hair as I grind against his face.

I'm already trembling again. Another orgasm is about to hit me hard. But I can't stop moving, can't stop wanting everything he gives me.

"Cowgirl or doggy?"

"Doggy," I pant, not thinking about what's happening or that this might be it. That this is the moment that I'll no longer be a virgin.

"Turn around."

I obey, climbing to my knees and presenting him with my ass. My body aches for him, for the satisfaction of having him inside me. His head plays near my entrance, and I wonder if I should tell him.

If I should break the moment and explain why I've saved myself for him.

If I should...

He slides in, and the world stops.

I whimper, and his body freezes.

I can hear him breathing hard, pulsing inside me. His fingers grip my hips, and his touch is so gentle.

The feeling of him inside me is heavenly and foreign. It hurts, and it feels amazing. And I realize that this is the moment that changes everything.

"Wait, Mel, are you?—"

"Yes, please," I gasp. My body stretches and adjusts, and he fills me, making me his.

"Fuck, baby, why didn't you tell me?" He stops, and I grip his arm.

"Because then we wouldn't be here..." I waited a lifetime for this moment. The juxtaposition of the pleasure and pain is hard to comprehend. But my body wants more, wants to feel him slide in and out.

"We don't have to... Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Please," I beg.

It burns, and I know it will pass if he keeps moving.

"Mel, you don't know what you're saying. It's my job to protect you, and this... Shit, this is different. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, Axton. Now, move, Ax damn ."

His cock jerks, and he presses further, stretching me until I can't speak. Until all I can think about is the sensation of him filling me, taking me.

"But, baby, you're a virgin."

"Not anymore," I whisper, pushing against him. "Now, I'm yours."

I've wanted this for so long—Axton inside me, our bodies joined as one. His breath hitches as he thrusts deeper, the delicious friction stoking the fire burning within me.

My fingers dig into the cushions of the couch as he moves with torturous slowness. Every nerve ending tingles with exquisite pleasure. I savor each stroke, each brush of his skin against mine.

This man has haunted my dreams for years.

As a girl, he was the quiet hero I admired from afar. His gentle strength and steady presence drew me in completely. That innocent crush blossomed into something deeper, more consuming, with each passing summer.

Now we're here, and he's making me his. And nothing I imagined ever compared to this.

Axton grips my chin. My lips find his in a searing kiss as our bodies move in perfect sync.

He establishes a soothing rhythm that's like a rocking chair. And he hits all the right places, filling me to the brim.

We're connected, and it feels so good. So fucking good.

"Is it always like this?"

"No, baby, it gets better," he grunts. "I'll show you."

He pumps his hips, and the sounds he makes drive me crazy. His grip tightens, and he slams into me.

I cry, loving the fullness, the ache that's only building with each thrust.

My hips rock, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Baby, you're squeezing my dick."

"Mmmm." I push back, sliding him further inside, and his groan sends a chill up my spine.

The sting fades, and the feeling is so intense.

He grips my hips, slamming into me. Fucking me and giving me everything I've dreamed of.

Pleasure and pain and the connection that makes this more than sex. More than a casual fuck.

I moan, and he slides out and slams back into me. He kisses the curve of my back, and my body moves with his. The firelight dances across my skin, and his body envelopes me, claiming me.

"Fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last."

"Ax..."

"I'm cumming, baby. Cum with me, Mel."

"Oh shit...," I cry, lost in the sensation.

"You're mine, Melanie..." And it's the last thing I hear before sleep takes me.