“You guys both know why we’re here, so just admit it. To us and not tonormal.Normal can go fuck itself, because Christmas is special. It’s real. It’s about being with the people you love.”
Both guys look at me as I raise my glass.
“So, here’s to us, and the road ahead. Here’s to being with the people you love at Christmastime.”
“Well, I’m down for that,” Heath says, and raises his glass. “Here’s to being with the people you love at Christmastime. It’s a new one for me.”
“Here’s to being with the people you really fucking adore, beyond anything else in the world, at Christmastime,” Josh says. “Cock or not, it has nothing to do with it. Just call that a Christmas bonus.”
When the guys join lips this time, the wine is forgotten. Heath kisses my boyfriend as though he’s life itself, and my heart pangs to think of Heath having spent years alone on Christmas Day.
It was because I was so desperate to be with the people who love me last Christmas that I joined The Agency in the first place, to raise money for the flights to get to them, and here we are with a new kind of love.
Josh isn’t just my boyfriend anymore, that’s obvious from the way the two of them kiss like star-crossed lovers. He’s Heath’s boyfriend, too.
It suits me just fine.
It suits me better than fine.
It suits me better than anything else there could possibly be in the world.
Because I want to be Heath Mason’s girlfriend, just as much as I’m Josh’s. I know where I want our road to lead, no matter what the cost.
I put my wine glass down on the coffee table and cast aside the cartoon lip cushion, getting to my feet to join the pair of loved up men and press myself against them. They include me in their kisses with smiles, all three of us as one besotted trio beside Heath’s eccentric Christmas tree.
And this is where I’m planning to stay, as long as Heath will have us.
Our suitcase is in the car, with enough attire to last us through to New Year’s Eve, and our proposals don’t begin again until the third.
Another Naughty Week ahead for us, only this time it’s in the heart of London, in the chill of frosty mornings rather than the sunny glow of Cannes.
Something tells me from the joy in Heath’s eyes between kisses that we’re both going to be very welcome guests. He sighs and holds us tight, and whispers athank youthat melts my heart.
And wow. What a Christmas night we have with the third person in our sacred trio.
Traditional in the best kind of eccentric way.
We eat mince pies, and watch The Nightmare Before Christmas, even though we’ve all seen it a million times before.We play a game of Scrabble, with bonus points for swear words, and get pissed on red wine.
We hug and we kiss, and we enjoy our weird gothic festivities like a weird little gothic family, and then, just as Heath wanted to, we christen the base of his Christmas tree.
All fucking night long.
Seriously, all fucking night.
My pussy is aching, and my ass is burning, and my mind is blasted by the pounding my two gorgeous idols give each other. Two sets of barbells get very, very dirty. Two sets of balls get emptied to fuck. And three horny people are satiated beyond belief under the twinkling fairy lights.
We’re still awake on Boxing Day morning, fuzzy headed but buzzing. Josh has brought our suitcase in from the car, and we’re all robed in our fluffy dressing gowns as Heath gets some toast on for breakfast.
It’s like a home from home. That’s how I feel about it.
Heath’s manor is a home from home.
And I intend to put that across to him.
I’m still drunk as I eat some more chocolates before the toaster pops, and I’m drunk enough to blurt the inevitable out – obeying the call of my heart and not my brain.
“I told The Agency,” I say to Heath. “And I’m sorry I blurted and all that, because it wasn’t my place, and it was reckless and stupid and could have cost me my job. And Josh’s. But it was worth it, because I needed to know.”
