Christmas Lights Quotes Novels & Stories

Those tree lights danced over her curves, the red glow on her jiggling tits as she leaned forward, blue and green sparks on her ass as it clapped down on me. I gripped her hips hard, thumbs digging into the soft flesh, guiding her as she picked up speed. Up and down she bounced, fast and filthy, her pussy slurping obscenely around my shaft, forcing out bubbles of our earlier load with every lift. I slap her ass rippling with each drop, the sound echoing like holiday bells. "Goddamn, baby, your pussy's a Christmas miracle. Gripping me like a velvet glove full of jingle balls."

Christmas felt more like a season for memories I’d rather forget. As I locked my car and walked past him, Mr. Jones cocked his head. "Not taking any time off for the holiday this year again, Miss Samantha? Always working, you are." I shook my head, pulling my scarf tighter. "Not my thing, Mr. Jones. Just another day as far as I’m concerned." “Well…” He looked at me with a sympathetic smile. “I always tell my kids, Christmas comes with its own miracles. Who knows? Maybe this year’s your lucky one.”

she whispered. All the neighborhood lights were starting to flicker to life. The entire neighborhood was blossoming with Christmas color. “It's beautiful, Aunt Georgia,” he replied. It really was. He'd never really seen the lights all turn on like this. It always seemed as if they were off one moment and then magically on the next. The effect of seeing them all come to life was like catching a glimpse of Santa coming down the chimney. “My Christmas wish for you, Nicholas, is that you find happiness,” she said softly, gazing out at the lights. “That you find someone that makes you feel this kind of magic all the time.”

“You say that like we’re not about to make this the best Christmas ever.” A small smile tugged at my lips. “I’m not sure I can trust you to handle Christmas magic.” He scoffed playfully, pressing a handful of lights to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse you, I am a connoisseur of festivities.” “Are you now?” I remarked in a silly tone. Before Khalid could retort, a lazy voice drawled from behind us. “You know, I’ve never really understood the point of all this.”

The next day, I found Christian on the packhouse roof helping Marcus string lights. My skeptical Alpha, who'd questioned everything about Christmas. On a roof. Hanging lights. “Admit you like it,” I called up. “I'm ensuring proper electrical safety.” “You're having fun.” “Those are different things.” “Christian's been humming Jingle Bells for an hour,” Marcus said. “Traitor,” Christian muttered. Young warrior Jackson approached Christian for advice on light placement. The respect in Jackson's voice, the way Christian carefully explained his reasoning—it hit me that Christian was fully invested now.

Sam settled into the seat next to Katie and pulled a blanket over their laps. “Did you mean what you just said back there?” Katie asked. “Of course,” Sam said. “We all need to be kinder to each other, help lift each other’s burdens. Isn’t that what the holidays are all about, no matter your religion or race or background?” With a sigh, Katie looked down the rows of luminarias. They glowed like they were lighting the way, just for her. “If that’s what Christmas, or the holidays, or whatever, is all about, then all my life I’ve been surrounded by people who never got the message. And no one bothered to give it to me either.”

“It is Christmas.” I stared at her in horror. “I have been smiling. Internally.” “No, you have been glaring at everything with open hostility.” “That is how I smile.” Her sigh sounded like the end of hope itself. “Just hang these.” I took the basket, grudgingly, and stalked toward the main hallway. Wolves hustled past carrying giant wreaths that could double as shields. Someone shouted for more ribbon. Someone else shouted for less ribbon. A pup ran by dragging a tangle of lights that looked like it had eaten three smaller strings and gained sentience.

Lowering myself to her level, I held her shoulders gently and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “No,” I said softly. “No, honey. You just had a nightmare. That’s all.” She didn’t look convinced. “Mummy has no reason to hurt Daddy,” I added quickly. “I’ll be back soon. And guess what? We’re spending Christmas here with Grandma and Uncle Elliot.” Her face lit up instantly. “Yeah.” “I’m just going to get a few things for Christmas,” I said. “I’ll be back.” I turned away before she could ask anything else.

2 Weeks Later Laila sat curled into the corner of her sofa, a soft cream-colored throw blanket draped across her lap as Laya leaned heavily against her side. The Christmas lights she hadn’t quite found the heart to take down yet glowed softly around the living room, casting warm gold and red reflections across the walls. The tree was gone, the ornaments packed away, but the lights remained—small reminders of a season that had changed more than just the calendar. Her phone, propped up against a candle on the coffee table, rang, vibrating slightly against the wood.

The holidays arrived faster than either of them expected. By December, the house in Georgia was filled with little reminders that Christmas was coming. Lela had put a small tree in the living room. Jack insisted on hanging lights outside, although half of them stopped working the moment he plugged them in. "You bought these last year," Lela reminded him. "I know." "They're broken." "They're not broken." She pointed at the dark section of lights. "Jack." He stared at them. "Okay. That section is broken."