“I would never let myself be taken advantage of by that horrible man!”
“Santa?”
“He exploits his workers and takes all the credit for their hard work.” She shook her head and gestured decisively. “I had the chance, and I refused it.”
Clem stared at her. “So you are an elf?”
“A sprite, to be accurate. A North Pole Sprite, to be extremely accurate.”
“A sprite.” Clem couldn’t keep up. She looked at the glass she had set out on the counter. Maybe she didn’t need more wine. She could be tipsy — or fully drunk — and that’s why she was standing in her apartment in conversation with someone who claimed to be a sprite. Maybe she should go for water. She looked at the woman before her, who stared with wide eyes and the hint of a smile on her face.
Clem shook her head. No, this called for something far more potent than water. She snatched up one of the open bottles of wine on the counter and poured its remnants into the water glass, then took a fortifying gulp. She focused on the warmth the wine left on its way down, trying to stay grounded in the moment, in her body. Although — She looked up at where Hazel stood across the kitchen. Being fully in her body was proving to be a distraction. She could already feel her heartbeat quicken as she took in Hazel’s blonde hair that fell in soft curls around her shoulders. Her eyes were pools of warmth that called out to Clem. Her body … Clem looked away. Hazel might as well have been plucked straight from her daydreams. All softness and curves, her skin glowed and shimmered, just begging to be touched. As much as Clem hated to admit it, the woman was as stunning as she was unserious. Clem took another large gulp of wine and shook her head.
She needed to get a hold of herself, remind herself of the facts. This stranger had somehow gotten into her apartment and was claiming to be a cookie who was also a sprite from the North Pole. This was not healthy or sane. “Okay,” Clem said. “You are a North Pole Sprite named Hazelnut Frost —” she stumbled over how ridiculous the last name was. “Frostington. And you are in my apartment, taking up precious moments of my couch time … why?”
Wickedness lit Hazel’s features, making Clem’s stomach flip. “Pleasure.” She stood and took a slow step toward Clem, who felt warmth settle in her belly and make her limbs feel heavy.
“Pleasure?” she squeaked. She watched breathless as Hazel flicked her tongue out to lick her lips. Clem licked her own in response, then tore her gaze up to meet Hazel’s. The smug look she saw there made her mouth go dry.
“Pleasure,” Hazel repeated.
Four
Clem froze.Her body responded to Hazel’s proposition before her brain could fully process it. Her legs were jelly, barely able to keep her upright. Her heart thrummed in her throat. Her pussy clenched, then relaxed as tingles and warmth radiated out from her center.
The wicked smile on Hazel’s face grew as though she could sense Clem’s reaction. When she spoke, her voice was husky. “It would be one night of no holds barred pleasure.
“One night?”
“One night. I’ll be gone with the sunrise.” Hazel licked her lips. “Is that something that interests you?”
Did it interest Clem? She’d be lying if she said no. It bore some consideration, though. If Hazel were in need of support, taking advantage of the woman would be the worst thing she could do. She cleared her throat.
“How do I know you aren’t just mistaken?” Her voice was strangled.
Hazel chuckled, a full-throated sound that was sexy as fuck. Clem clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep her grounded in the moment. Hazel certainly held some sort of magic over her, because there was no other way shecould imagine being this far gone just by conversation. “You want proof of the magic?” Hazel asked. Her lips twitched. “More proof, that is.” She tapped a bright red fingernail to her lips.
Clem swallowed hard as she stood in the kitchen and wondered how her night had gotten to this point. Hazel stepped around her, circling her slowly, giving her the space to step away if needed.
Hazel’s brow creased for a moment before her face lit up with inspiration. Then she waggled her head side to side before nodding to herself. She turned wicked eyes to Clem, whose heart pounded as Hazel leaned close, invading her personal space. Her mouth parted on a drawn breath and her eyelids drifted closed. She waited for contact — a kiss, a brush, anything — but it never came. Instead, Hazel reached past her and selected an undecorated cookie from a tray. Her knowing look brought a flush to Clem’s cheeks, but it was tempered by a sweetness that made Clem feel a bit less embarrassed. Hazel held the cookie aloft. Clem looked at it and raised an eyebrow.
“It’s a cookie. Like you claim to be.”
“It’s a blank cookie.”
“Right.”
“Not for long.”
Clem watched as Hazel focused her energy on the cookie. For a moment nothing happened. Clem was ready to call it all off, to kick this stranger out of her apartment and get into her sweats, but then —
The air around the cookie began to shimmer and shift. It wasn’t obvious at first, and Clem wondered if it was a trick of the light, or tiredness setting in and making her eyes struggle to focus. But then the cookie itself began to warp, and there was no denying thatsomethingwas happening. There was apop!, and a burst of sparks, and Hazel shook the cookie triumphantly.
Sweat shimmered on her brow as she crowed, “I did it!”
“Did what?” But Clem could see what. The cookie was now decorated, and it was an exact replica of what she was wearing. A maroon and red Christmas sweater — were those reindeer piped out in icing? — above grey slacks. Brown curls had been piped around a smiling face. Clem looked down at her outfit, then back at the cookie. There was far more detail in the cookie than anyone should be able to do.
“It’s a good trick, I’ll give you that.”
