I know you’re supposed to be home with your wife, unwrapping gifts and playing the part—but all you can think about is me, isn’t it? I’m your naughty little secret, waiting here in something tight and red, thinking about the way you touched me last time and the way you moaned my name like you’d forgotten she even existed. So go on, tell her there's a work emergency. Make up whatever excuse you need. I’ll be here with the lights low, my legs spread, and a body built to ruin your holiday plans. Come spend Christmas where you really want to be—inside me.
