Page 72 of Snowbound with the Santas

Nick’s done an excellent job of creating a four-stack-high snowman using smaller balls and packing in the snow in such a way that she has large curves and a juicy smile.

“You’re all blind to talent,” Archer mutters.

“Rayne should pick the winner.” Frankie grins. “She knows the best one already, I can tell.”

Nick squeezes my waist and smiles. “Fine by me.”

I glance between the three expectant faces, then straighten my stance. “I choose mine.”

“What?” all three of them cry out.

“You said I can choose, and I choose mine!”

Frankie snorts. “But yours isn’t even a?—”

“A what?” I cut in quickly. “Choose your next wordsverycarefully, mister.”

They descend on me with tickling hands and laughter, and we collapse down into the snow, the competition forgotten.

“Stop!” I squeal, fighting against too many hands. “You’re all just sore losers!”

“We were set up from the start!” Nick cries.

Choosing my snowman was the best option, clearly. But also, choosing between the guys felt like I would have to pick which one I liked more out of the three of them, and there simply wasn’t an answer.

By the time the tickling and play fighting fades, we’re tired out and return to the cabin, where the mouthwatering scent of roasted turkey hits us immediately. Frankie and Nick get busy in the kitchen while I flop down onto the couch to catch my breath until Archer approaches me with a sly smile.

“So, you won the competition,” he says, lowering down next to me.

I shift on the couch and nod, smiling proudly. “Jealous?”

“Not entirely.” He smiles and then he leans over me. “I get to give you your reward, so who is the real winner here?”

I don’t catch on to his meaning until he’s pressing between my legs and pulling my cargo pants down, then it clicks in my mind what my reward is.

“So you were all just mad you lost out on me sucking your dick?” I ask with a grin. Archer silences me by burying between my legs and holding me in place as he eats me out like I’m his last meal. Every stroke of attention he lavishes me with is heightened by knowing that Nick and Frankie can hear every one of my sounds from the kitchen. He brings me to orgasm faster than I can process, and when I reopen my eyes after writhing in pleasure, Frankie is there to kiss me.

“Dinner is ready.” He smiles against my lips.

The effort on dinner is amazing. I know that to other people, this is probably really simple in terms of a Christmas dinner, but I’ve never done this before, never sat around a table with a small roast turkey in the middle surrounded by mashed potatoes, sliced carrots, and a red cranberry sauce that instantly becomes my favorite. There’s some fish too, freshly caught by Archer that morning before I was awake. It becomes a challenge once again to keep the tears at bay, and Nick takes my hand in his.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly while Frankie carves up the turkey.

“Yes,” I whisper. “This is just… I’ve never had something like this before. Which sounds so pathetic, but this is amazing.”

Nicks nods as if he understands exactly what I’m saying, and our fingers stay intertwined as we begin to eat. We share stories of past Christmases, and I learn that during his time in the army, Archer was actually in charge of organizing the Christmas feasts and activities. He stopped after he lost his men, but there’s a new sparkle in his eyes while he talks that I haven’t seen before. Frankie is the same, it seems. Apparently, the court case after the death of his brother sucked all the spirit out of him since the blame was never placed on anyone’s shoulders. Hard to bring charges against a man in a suit who was a thousand miles away.

Nick’s stories are different. He remembers little of Christmases because of his drinking and remarks that this might be his first proper Christmas dinner in years. Their stories comfort me, and I no longer feel foolish to have missed out on what Christmas is really about.

Loved ones and family.

We eat our fill and then Nick steps away to try and call his daughter. He manages to connect for a minute or two and as Frankie, Archer, and I curl up near the tree, we listen to Nick’s excited tones drifting down the hall as he spends those precious few minutes with his daughter.

When he returns, there’s a pep in his step.

“How is she?” Archer asks, shifting to make space for Nick to sit with us by the fire.

“She’s having a great time. Lots of presents, lots of love.”

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