Dirty December (Pine Ridge Universe)

S.C. Principale
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/dirty-december-pine-ridge-universe-s-c-principale/
Dirty December
S.C. Principale
 Copyright Information
Copyright @ 2024 by S.C. Principale
The right of S.C. Principale to be identified as the
author of this work has been asserted by her under
the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of
it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied,
stored, distributed, or otherwise made available by
any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or
similar organizations), in any form (electronic, digital,
optical or mechanical) or by any means
(photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise)
without prior written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people,
places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Cy Riz created this gorgeous
character art.
Editing: Evil Commas Editing
For questions or further information please
contact: scprincipaleauthor@gmail.com
Table of Contents
Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedications and Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

About the Author

Also By S.C. Principale

The Minotaur’s Valentine

Chapter One: Milo

Chapter Two: Libby

Chapter Three: Libby

Chapter Four: Milo

Chapter Five: Milo

Velvet Wings

Chapter One: Lennox

Chapter Two: Cindy

Chapter Three: Lennox

Chapter Four: Cindy

Possessed By the Leonid King | Felix Orbus Galaxy | Book One |

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three
Dedications and Acknowledgements

T
his one is dedicated to my Patreon Fan-mily, my editor, and my
hardcore writing besties. I am so sorry I have such a filthy mind
and you all have to put up with it. I owe you cookies. Or
stickers. Or more filth. But loving filth!
Also, this is dedicated to whoever made those ridiculously
inspirational hot Santa memes. Look what you started.
 Introduction

A
n elf’s worst nightmare is to end up on the Naughty List, but
Eirwen’s fantasies about Klaus are so delicious they make it
worth the risk!
Eirwen has never wanted anyone but the handsome,
commanding widower the world knows as the kindly Santa Claus.
Her racy fantasies revolve around another side of Klaus that’s much
more demanding but just as desirable. What will happen when
Eirwen’s cravings translate into her only Christmas Wish—and Klaus
finds out?
Klaus is retiring from his job as Santa Claus and handing the
reins over to his son. But as he prepares to shop for a summer home
in Pine Ridge, the magical demi-mortal wonders if it’s too late to
capture the heart of the woman of his lustful dreams. When he
discovers Eirwen’s debauched Christmas Wish, Klaus must make a
choice. Should he keep their friendship as it is? Or should he indulge
both of their dreams and lead them into a deliciously dirty
December?
Author’s Note: There is seriously so much sex in this book. Are
you okay with that? It’s all consensual and Eirwen and Klaus have
assured me they are into it.
All the smut. All the love. A mushy happy ending in a cozy
paranormal-friendly town known for its love of Pine trees, minor
league hockey, and maple-glazed doughnuts.
Author’s Second Note: This is your LAST chance to go do
something else. You could learn to play the piano. Or knit. Or send
off those thank you notes you promised you’d send before February
but didn’t.
No? Okay, then.
Disclaimer: No holes were left behind in the making of this book.
 Chapter One

I
can’t have a thing for my boss... even if he won’t be my boss for
much longer.
About twenty minutes, to be exact.
“Eirwen! Aren’t you coming?”
I look up, nose red (redder than usual) from crying, not from the
cold.
“I’ll be right there, Juniper!” I say brightly.
I’m one of Klaus’ elves. I’m always cheerful.
So is Klaus.
I frown through my hidden tears as Juniper hurries to the dining
hall, her braids swinging, bells jingling. When I think of Klaus’ big
smile, his broad chest heaving with laughter, his ringing voice... I
have trouble remembering when last I saw him give anyone a real
smile. I think it’s been more than a month.
I would do anything to make him smile. He’s not just a good
boss. He’s not just a symbol of love and generosity around the
world.
He’s... everything I ever wanted.
That giant of a man with a booming laugh, magic in his hands,
and a smile as wide as the Arctic Circle...
He’s been my crush since I started working with him almost forty
years ago—even though back then there was a Mrs. Claus.
I know, I know. Workplace romances are so messy, right? Don’t
worry, I’m not a workshop wrecker. I loved Holly Claus almost as
much as I swooned over her jolly, friendly, sweetheart of a husband.
I stayed strictly professional. Even though I was tempted, I never
talked to Klaus about anything besides my job—head manager of
the stable and eventually the head reindeer trainer.
“Eirwen! You’re not gonna let the girls miss my big moment, are
you?”
“Kris! No, sorry. Cupid is a little cranky, that’s all. She misses
Hades.” I jump when I see Kris standing in the stable doorway,
looking like a young, dark-haired version of his dad. I quickly get up
and pat Cupid’s nose. I’m telling the truth. This close to Christmas I
can’t risk letting her be with her mate, the big black buck, Hades, or
she might be too tired to fly tomorrow night.
Kris, who will be known as Santa Claus in about twenty minutes
when he takes over from his father, doesn’t buy my story.
“I don’t think Cupid is the only one who’s cranky. You’re going to
miss my dad, aren’t you?”
“Of course!” Elves come and go every couple of centuries, and
each Santa can only hold his power for 100 winters. It doesn’t
always pass from father to son, but it always passes, like a windup
toy’s clockwork—every century on the stroke of midnight that starts
Christmas Eve day.
I force a smile that softens to something natural. “We always
miss the old St. Nick, but we love the new one. We’ve known you
since you were born, silly. I’m sure the reins are in good hands.” I
make a weak pun as I lead the team of eight through the stable and
across the snow-packed ground.
“Eirwen. You know the powers don’t just switch on at midnight
when Dad hands me The List. They’ve been getting stronger for
days. I know all you want for Christmas.” Kris gives me a sweet, sad
look.
I hang my head. He must be sick at the thought of me wanting
his father for my heart mate. How could I, a tiny little elf and not
even a Crafter, dream of replacing Kris’ mother, a human, an angel in
mortal form, the most beautiful, gentle woman I’ve ever met, and
Klaus’ true heart mate, or what the humans call “one true love”?
“I’m sorry. I am foolish to think about such things,” I whisper.
Humans don’t even have heart mates. They have husbands and
wives, and many break their sacred vows.
Klaus hadn’t. Even though they were humans, all of us elves
knew Klaus and Holly had been heart mates.
Not that it will matter soon. Klaus has mentioned that he’ll be
taking some time away to let Kris settle into his new job and make
the role of Santa his own.
 Soon, Klaus might only be a visitor—and he certainly won’t make
time to chat with me when he comes back to see his son and all of
the elves who have served with him. His closest friends have always
been the Crafters and Confectioners.
Kris shakes his head and stays the team with his hand on
Dasher’s brow. “Santa makes wishes, too, you know. Haven’t you
noticed him getting more and more surly with every passing minute?
It’s not because he’s retiring. He has been waiting to see me take
over and fill those shiny black boots and the big red suit for the last
decade. He’s going to miss you.”
“Miss me?” I know Klaus is leaving for a year or two in the sun
after a century in the hidden snowy realms of Brightlund, a tiny
snippet of the North Pole ordinary people can’t quite find on the
map. He’s leaving, but he’ll be back. His son lives here. The elves are
his family. And that doesn’t explain why he’ll miss me.
Kris seems to read my thoughts. “Mom has been gone for fifteen
years, Eirwen. Dad gets another century of mortal life, maybe even
more. You don’t think it’s possible that he might want to meet
someone to share that time with?”
“No! I mean, yes. Of course he might. Does. Would.” I shake my
silver-streaked plum-colored curls. “A human lady.”
Kris looks at me for a long moment while the blood rushes to my
face.
Klaus is six-and-a-half feet tall. I calibrated the sleigh and trained
the reindeer to pull the correct weight. I know he weighs about 300
pounds, most of it muscle.
I’m just under four feet and weigh a third of that, with a body as
thin and straight as a candy cane. The only fat on me is my round
cheeks and my scant handfuls of breasts.
The blood in my cheeks flies south.
Yes, I’ve been imagining having someone as big as Klaus
touching me. Yes, I’ve imagined him inside me, and I longed for the
initial pain and dreamed of the pleasure afterward.
“Stop.” Kris holds up a warning hand. “I like it best when I just
get semi-clear visions of what you want. Which is my dad. And
you’re who he wants.”
 “He—what?” My shriek makes an icicle snap off the gingerbread-
esque roof of the dining hall as the doors are being flung open wide
for the ceremonial exchange of power.
“Shhh!” Kris glares me to silence, dark black beard and flashing
blue-black eyes hushing me along with a wave of his white-gloved
hand.
“Why me? He barely talks to me!”
“He can’t! Or at least, he couldn’t. Not while you were working
for him! No Santa wants to risk doing something that could
potentially cause tension between him and his workers. But haven’t
you noticed that he’s been hanging out in the stables every spare
minute?”
I had noticed—and loved— Klaus’ recent habit. “I thought he was
sad that he wouldn’t be driving the sleigh tomorrow night. I thought
he was going to miss the team.” I pat Donder’s flank.
“He likes you, Eirwen. You were always a good friend to my
mother. You were always there for me growing up. You taught me
how to ride, drive, and fly. Best of all, you never, ever let Dad down.
His team and his sleigh were always perfect because of you. You
never asked him for anything or pressured him to change the way
he ran the Workshop.”
I blink in surprise. “That’s just being a good worker! Elves are
supposed to support.”
“You were more. You were a good friend. Someone he trusted.
Someone he could talk to. And remember—he is Santa, for another
few minutes, anyway. He’s known your Christmas Wish for months.
He just couldn’t act on it.” Kris leaves the team and walks through
the sweeping snow, calling back over his shoulder— “But that all
changes tonight. The question is—do you want to make each other’s
Christmas Wishes come true?”

KLAUS CHEERS THE LOUDEST of anyone in the packed dining hall

when Kris steps up and takes The List, and with it, the magic and
semi-immortality offered to every Santa. Within seconds, his black
hair is shot through with silver, but it doesn’t turn snow white. That’ll
happen after a few years. Magic has its price after all.
Feasting and drinking begin, but not to excess. In a few more
hours, Kris—I mean, Santa Claus, will take his first solo flight around
the globe to deliver the presents the Crafters and Confectioners had
worked on all year.
Klaus, still in a faded red velvet suit that is nowhere near as rich
and vibrant as his son’s, steps off the dais where the head table is
stationed. He has to work his way through an ocean of well-wishers,
but it is clear that he has a designated target in mind.
Me.
“Eirwen.”
“Klaus. Um. Congratulations. Double congratulations! Kris will be
amazing. You’ve trained him well. And well done you!” I babble with
a nervous smile. I duck my head back into the tankard of thick,
creamy eggnog and hope I sounded a little smoother to Klaus than I
did to my own ears. “A century without a single house missed. H-
high five!”
Klaus taps my outstretched hand gently with two fingers. His
hand is three times the size of mine. His fingers are peppermint logs
compared to my fun-sized candy canes.
I press my thighs together as I suddenly remember a night of
recent fantasizing and experimentation while I was alone in my
room. I’d taken the biggest peppermint log I could find, one almost
as wide as my palm, a thick red and white cylinder that smelled like
Heaven... Like Klaus... He always smelled like fresh snow and sugary
mint. I couldn’t picture how big he would be as I rubbed the chalky
peppermint over my skin. Klaus was huge, even for humans. As I
practiced working it into my aching pussy, I wondered if Klaus would
be even longer. Thicker? Would he fit in my tiny, tight snatch, even
after I attempted to stretch myself out?
The creamy peppermint candy didn’t fit, but it felt so good being
stretched while dreaming Klaus was the one working himself inside
of me. The starbursts of pain that made me gasp and wince would
be worth it if I could feel his wide, firm hands on my waist, if I could
hear his deep snowdrift of a voice coaxing me to relax and let him
do whatever was necessary to make us one.
My flashback seems like hours to me, but it’s only two seconds in
reality. Klaus is still laughing and waving to those surging past us,
looking completely nonchalant and unaware that my thick winter
tights were damp because of my naughty thoughts.
Oh no! Kris! The List! Does he know?
Wait... Did Klaus know? He’d still been the current Santa Claus
when I had my little foray into candy cane fuckery.
“Thank you, Eirwen. Say, I was wondering if you’d help me
tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night? But that’s Take-Off!”
“Oh, I know, after Take-Off. See, I was thinking of spending the
day someplace, maybe even overnight. I haven’t taken Christmas
Eve off in a century. I’m used to driving the big team, but I
wondered if I could borrow Hades and Jingle? Could you show me
how to use one of the smaller sleighs? Maybe the little red two-
seater?”
Me? Alone with Klaus, teaching him how to use a sled built for
two?
“Sure. Where are we going?”
“There’s a little ski lodge in Kullorsuaq that I usually find empty
on my run. Not many people want to take a winter vacation in one
of the coldest places on Earth.”
“True. Um. How will I get back?”
Klaus gives me a long look so steamy that it would melt the
stripes off a peppermint stick. “You know...In all these years, you
have never missed a day of work. Never missed a Take-Off.”
“Well. What can I say? I love my job.” And my boss, I add
silently.
“I’m retired now. I never had much time to stop and hobnob with
one of my trustiest, most steadfast elves. I have a little leisure now.
Are you interested in a short getaway?”
I swallow and nod. “But I have to be back by the time the team
gets home. They need their post-flight massages and Donder’s hoof
salve, and Cupid will want to be with Hades, and—”
 “We’ll be home in time for Christmas dinner. How many other
elves are under you?”
“A few dozen,” I admit.
“Delegate for one night. Let someone take over the stable for a
handful of stolen hours.”
“Stolen?” My voice is a squeak.
Klaus leans in close. I’ve never seen him give me this look—one
of pure burning knowledge.
He knows. He knows all about my secret wishes.
And he wants to make them come true.
“Do you want me to steal your heart, or do you want to give it to
me?” he whispers, low voice a harsh grunt that makes me throb.
I whimper when his hand rests on my hip, completely cradling it.
My noise makes him hesitate. “I could have misread. People have
idle thoughts. I understand, Eirwen. I hope you’ll forget all about
this. Forgive me for—”
“No! I want everything you think I want. More.” My voice is a
greedy little mewl.
“If you’re worried because of my age—”
“I’m not.”
“Or the difference in our sizes—” Klaus peers into my blushing
face.
Is it wrong to think of the most giving man alive taking
something from me, roughly but not by force? Pulling a willing
surrender I’ve been dreaming about giving? Knowing he’ll have to
use powerful thrusts to make my body accommodate his ... maybe
with sweat dripping down the thick muscles of his chest, mane of
silvery-white hair wild as he plows into me. Does it mean I’m on the
Naughty List if I love to imagine him pushing into me so hard I see
stars, knowing he’ll make any pain instantly better with his gentle
touch?
Not that I want to see the gentle Santa Claus I worked with for
all these years. I want to see the god of winter I’ve come to lust
after, a man who flew through blizzards and across warzones to
bring joy to millions.
 “Oh, Klaus.” I nod, eyes shining. “I’m only worried that this is a
dream. Is this a dream?” I look into my now-empty mug of eggnog.
Could someone have spiked it with something?
Klaus shakes his head. “No. We’re awake. Come with me to the
stables. Let’s look at the options we have.”
“But the party!” I protest.
“Won’t miss us for a few minutes.”

WE TRUDGE THROUGH THE snow together. Klaus sinks in up to his

ankles while I barely leave footprints since my body is so light and
small. All of Santa’s elves are like this, so I only appreciate just how
big and heavy Klaus is when we’re close together—and that rarely
happens.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.
Klaus’ voice is a velvet whisper among the soft moaning of arctic
winds that bring a fresh shower of glittering snow. “At first, I wasn’t
ready. Not so soon after Holly. Then, when I was, I knew I had to
wait until I stepped down. If you didn’t want me, I didn’t want to
risk upsetting you and making you leave. The team needs you. Kris
will need you. Now, if I’ve upset you or offended you, or you have
doubts—”
“No doubts,” I interject, reality settling over me in a happy fog.
Klaus’ reasons make sense, and my long knowledge of him tells me
that his words ring true.
“Well, if you were to change your mind about any of it,” he leaves
the words vague and looks at the shimmering purple and white
streaks in the sky above Brightlund before we head inside, “I can
leave now. I’m not needed here. Your home is here, and your work
is here. Once Kris finds his Mrs. Claus, I’m thinking of taking a
summer home in some place like Pine Ridge, New York, where
magical folks are welcomed, but not exploited or endangered. And if
need be, I could make it my home all year.”
 So he could give me space if I reject him. If things don’t work
out.
It’s considerate... But I cannot imagine any situation where I’d
turn him down now that I know he’s interested in me.
“Oh. Good thinking.” I keep my words short, nodding. I’ve been
doing that a lot, swallowing down words when I wish I could pour
them out instead. I’ve always been shy, an only child when elves
typically have large families. It’s common to see couples with six or
seven little ones in their family. I grew up with only my parents and
grandparents. Maybe that's why I prefer the relative silence of
animals to people.
Speaking to Klaus about anything other than the team or work-
related plans is new for me and doesn’t come easily.
I think maybe that’s one reason I’m so attracted to him. His
presence is naturally larger-than-life and a little intimidating.
It’s also relaxing in an odd way. I don’t think I need to say a
word—I can just let him take me.
Suddenly, Klaus’ hand is on the back of my neck, a hot, heavy
weight despite the chill. “Did I upset you?”
“No.”
“You’re so quiet.”
Again, I just nod. Holly was a sweet, warm, vivacious chatterbox.
Maybe Klaus won’t like my silence. “Is it okay? That I’m quiet?”
It’s his turn to pause, then drop his voice as we step into the
privacy of the warm hay-scented barn. “I’d like to hear your voice,
Eirwen. The noises you’ll make. The sounds I could pull from you...”
“Yes!” I spin to face him, nodding up at him. “Yes, I’ll talk—in
those situations.”
“I’ll help you.” His finger trails under my chin and rests briefly on
my neck. “I won’t give you a choice. You’ll have to tell me exactly
what you want me to do to you.”
To do to you.
The words fan flames in my chest.
“I want you to take me to the lodge you mentioned.”
Klaus nods, walking along the long row of stalls and down to the
bay where we keep the various sleds, with the noted exception of
Santa’s Sleigh. That’s in its own private shed. He stops in front of a
little red two-seater. He sits in it, spreading out as he tests it for
comfort.
“Hop in, Eirwen.”
I obey, curls bouncing as I squeeze in, feeling the heat of his leg
against mine.
“Have you ever sat on Santa’s lap, Eirwen?” he asks, voice a low
rumble that brushes against my ear and makes me quake inside.
“N-no.”
There’s silence. I sneak a look at him, face on fire.
He won’t tell me to do it. But I ache for him to command me. If
he told me to suck him like a sugar plum until he was ready to
come, then jam my petite pussy down on him in one swift plunge, I
would do it, sobbing in ecstasy with every biting burst of pain and
every wave of pleasure afterward. If he told me to clamp my thighs
around his cock while he emptied load after load of cum inside of
me, I would do it happily like the most eager little trollop, eager to
be bred.
All I can manage to do is flex my fingers where my leg meets his.
“Do you want to show me how she handles?” Klaus asks.
My swallow is a gulp. “You tell me. Please.”
“Well, I’ve never—”
“I know! Humans and elves rarely mingle in a romantic way. I
don’t know what I’m doing, either, Klaus.” I use his name and dig my
fingers into the velvet of his trousers. “But I know I want you to tell
me. Tell me any wish of yours, and I’ll make it come true. I trust
you, Klaus. Anything you could tell me to do—I would do. Willingly.
So willingly.”
I use up all my bravery in one shot, talking myself to silence, wet
and slick between my lower lips and tongue dry and nervous
between my upper ones.
Why is he silent? Why isn’t he soothing my fears, telling me he
understands what I want? I know he’s naturally gifted at giving
orders. I’m good at following them. Why should the bedroom be any
different from our weekly meetings?
 Klaus takes my hand and squeezes, a true smile lighting his stern
features. “I meant, show me how the two-seater handles.”
“Oh. Right.”
“But now that I know how you handle—sit on my lap, Eirwen.
Right here. In the middle.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Klaus. I’m not your boss now. ‘Yes, Klaus’ if you want to say
anything at all.”
I sit in his lap, just where he gestures.
Oh, sweet figgy pudding.
I can feel his cock pressing against my ass. And my thigh. I use
my hand to reposition myself, and Klaus seizes it and presses it to
his erection.
My hand will close around him—if I stretch my fingers until I feel
like the joints are separating. I’m sure for a human he’s well above
average, maybe eight or nine inches and thick. Human women
would whimper and stretch.
I’m an elf. My hand is a third of the size. As for other areas...
Klaus puts my hand firmly back in my lap and holds it there,
head bent to whisper in my ear, his whisper tickling the sensitive
point. “Just tell me if you want to attempt... physical things after
feeling that, Eirwen. I know we can find ways to make each other
happy. I want to know if this is one of them. I want to know now, so
I can... pack accordingly.”
I wonder what he means.
He waits, chest tense against my back, hands stiff on mine.
Finally, he cracks the silence with a hoarse croak, “I may not be
Santa anymore, but I can still visit my workbench, Eirwen. Want me
to make you an elf-sized gift to keep you satisfied?”
“No! No, Klaus, I want you.” I turn, nodding, and then turn right
back, head hanging.
“Oh, you’d have me, sweet snow angel. I’ll be the one pounding
it into you, touching every inch of your gorgeous body while you
take my cock between your hands or breasts, or maybe even in that
sweet little mouth.”
I forget how to breathe.
 Klaus leans his head to mine for a moment. “This isn’t right. Too
fast. Too lustful. Eirwen, I—”
“It’s not too fast! Lust is good. Very, very good.”
“But if we start and you change your mind, you know you can
always tell me so. I... I’ve cared about you for such a long time,
Eirwen.”
He has? “When?” I ask in a curious whisper.
“Probably a few years ago—when you let me help deliver Cupid’s
calf. It was the first time since Holly passed that I’d been truly
happy. I remember thinking that it was strange that I’d lived and
worked with the team of reindeer for decades and never helped
bring on into the world, even though I had laid many to rest. You
helped me think—life will go on. Life will go on, not just for the
children I bring gifts to, but it could go on for me, too. It could be
different. With someone different. You will never replace my Holly.
You are in a class of your own. Holly taught me what love was. You
made me realize it didn't have to die with her.”
Klaus leans his lips against my cheek, beard tickling my neck and
caressing my skin. A soft kiss.
“When? For you?” he asks.
My answer is different. “Probably the first time I saw you—but
don’t worry! I was content to admire from afar. It wasn’t until the
last few years that things began to—thicken.”
My words mimic his cock, which had softened a bit during his
emotional speech. It surges back to life as I squirm on him, leaning
back to move my lips to his.
His mouth is bigger, tongue more demanding. He grips my face
in one hand, plundering, stealing my air, a mix of mint and mead
that is far more intoxicating than my rum-filled eggnog.
At last, when I’m on the verge of stripping off my tights and
begging him to fuck me on the seat of this sleigh, he stops.
“No.” I wince, wanting him back. “I’m not ready to stop, Klaus.”
“I’m not ready to start! If I kiss you for another second, I’ll have
to have you. Completely. I want to take you somewhere alone. Far
from any interruptions, Eirwen.”
“Did you see my Christmas Wish this year?” I ask. “In detail?”
 “That’s not always how the power works. I see what to give a
person. What they want.”
So he knows I want him. I want him inside of me, making me a
drenched, trembling mess, stretched around him, clinging to him.
And he clings back. He’s as enthralled with me as I am with him.
I don’t know if he can give me all of my Christmas Wish and become
my heart mate—or if this is mainly physical with some sort of
affection thrown in.
I also don’t care. I’ve been fasting, abstaining from affection for
years, doubtful my dreams would come true but with my heart too
stubborn to accept anything other than him.
Klaus.
Klaus who did ask if I would give him my heart.
My heart flutters like a moth circling a candle’s flame as Klaus
speaks, his voice soft but with enough edge to make sure I am well
aware of what his words mean.
“You want me. Snug inside of you. I can see flashes of other
things, but mainly I just see us. Together.”
“I want that.”
I’ll worry about everything else later.
“No, no. You don’t have to worry, snow angel. I want you in the
same way. Well, no. Not the same. The inverse.” Klaus has a little
smirk on his lips, one that makes me shiver. It’s knowing, dark, and
yet somehow warm. A naughty, delicious smirk I’ve never seen.
“You’ve been under me for years, Eirwen. And now I want you on
top of me. In front of me. Spread out around me...”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, all of those things.” I shudder and lean up to
kiss him, pawing and clawing until our mouths meet and I can feel
his hand sliding possessively over my outer thigh, gripping hard. He
squeezes the globes of my ass, hands so wide that his fingers caress
the cleft between my legs, brushing both openings at once.
I gasp, taking him deeper into my mouth, tongue swept under
his.
It’s the sweetest suffocation, with all of my senses ablaze. He
could rip my tights right now and slide inside me, splitting me like an
overripe peach.
 “Let’s leave after the feast.” Klaus abruptly pulls back. “It’s not
far, only three hours without the Burst.”
I nod, knowing the Burst is only to be used to manipulate time
and space for Santa’s Sleigh.
“You’ll sit on my lap and teach me how she likes to be driven.”
“Yes, Klaus.”
I know he means more than just the sleigh.
 Chapter Two

I
’m shaking so much inside, I’m afraid the constant tremors will
set off an avalanche in the icy terrain of Brightlund. Or maybe my
constant blushing and flushing will start melting all the snow. For
a minute, I envision leaving a wet trail wherever I go, making pools
of melted snow with every overheated footstep.
Me leaving a hot wet mess behind me? That’s not so far-fetched.
Right now, I’m so wet inside that I’d be afraid to sit on Klaus’ lap,
even if he asked me to. What if I soak right through his suit?
“Are you all right, Eirwen?”
Claudine, a matronly, older elf who works in the nursery, stops
me as I re-enter the feast just a few minutes after Klaus. I look
around the room and find him embracing his son and pounding him
on the back up at the head table.
“I’m fine.” Just fine. Horny, sweaty, shaky, and flustered, but
overjoyed.
The man I’ve wanted for years wants me, too—now. Tonight. In
a few hours.
“I know you’ll miss Klaus. We all will. Let it out, dearie.” Claudine
pats my shoulder.
I let out a short hysterical laugh into her warm, well-padded
bosom as she pulls me into a hug.
“You’ve been working too hard, Eirwen. You’ve never missed a
day. You won’t delegate a single chore for the team or in the stable.
If I were Kris—I mean, Santa—I would order you to take at least
one night off!”
“What an excellent idea. You know I always listen to Nana
Claudine.”
I gasp as Kris’ amused voice booms above our heads.
The new Santa bends to hug the silver-haired elf who helped
raise him. Everyone, elf or human, reveres Nana Claudine.
“I’m fine. I like to stay busy!” I quickly throw on a wide, perky
smile.
 “Good—but you’ll have to obey my first official order, or you’ll
make me look bad.” Kris winks. “Dad wants to take a sleigh to
Kullorsuaq to celebrate his retirement, and you know how he is. He’s
never flown anything but Santa’s Sleigh. There’s a pretty lodge right
on the water. Why don’t you take a night off after being Dad’s
chauffeur?”
“How about it, Eirwen?”
My smile stiffens at the edges in an effort not to moan aloud.
Klaus has managed to sneak up behind me. His hand is on my back.
So much of my back, all at once. His thumb lazily caresses a line
up and down my spine and it turns my limbs into mush.
“Uh-huh. Sure. Sure. When?” I rasp, mouth wet but throat
suddenly dry.
“No time like the present. And you know I need a distraction. The
first Christmas Eve in a century without working? I won’t know what
to do with myself. C’mon, Eirwen. You show me how to fly ‘er, and
I’ll buy you a grog.”
I look up and see Klaus’ wide, gentle smile.
For a second, I wonder if I dreamed the conversation we had in
the stable.
Then, I feel his hand lightly stroke my waist, fingers caressing my
bottom before coming back to his sides. The smile on his face
remains innocent, but his eyes are ravenous.
A white wolf, hunting.
Those gray hairs are no indicator of strength—and I can’t wait for
him to bend me until I’m about to break, to use every drop of his
power on me.
“Will we be back for Christmas dinner?” I ask, trying to sound
calm and interested.
“We’ll beat Kris home by a minute!” Klaus laughs, and Kris
laughs, too. Even Nana Claudine laughs. At last, I join in, giddy.
Klaus and I are leaving for a night of passion together, and no
one will suspect a thing.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
by the square piece C. Screws are turned through the legs and into
the square piece to keep it in position.
 Keeping Magazines in a Book Form

Several Boxes will Appear the Same as a Set of Books and will Preserve the
Magazines

Desiring to preserve magazine copies without binding them, I

made up a series of boxes that gave the appearance of books, and
placed the numbers in order in them as they were received. The
sides of the boxes consist of two thin boards, a little larger than the
size of the magazine to be placed in them. The ends are made of the
same material, wide enough to equal the thickness of the copies to
be placed in each box, four or six numbers, or a volume. One end of
these pieces is made slightly rounding, and the pieces are then put
together as shown.
The rounded ends of the end pieces and the opening between the
sides are covered with a piece of cardboard or bristol board, to
shape the back of the box like a book. The finished box is entirely
covered, like a book, with cloth or imitation leather. The backs can be
lettered and decorated to appear like a book.—Contributed by R. M.
Guarino, New York City.
 A Cardboard Creaser

The Wire on the Creaser Presses the Paper into the Space between the Two
Wood Pieces

A simple apparatus for creasing thin cardboard or heavy paper in

a perfectly straight line without broken edges is described in the
French magazine La Nature as follows: On a base of convenient
dimensions are fastened two pieces of wood, well smoothed and of
equal thickness, so that there remains a slot, about ¹⁄₈ in. wide,
between them. At one end a hole is bored through these pieces for a
shaft on which the creaser will turn. The creaser is made of a piece
of wood somewhat longer than the baseboard so that a handle can
be formed at one end. At the other end it is slotted for a piece of
metal, perforated for the shaft and fastened with two pins or rivets,
as shown. On the under side of the creaser a stiff steel wire is
fastened so that it coincides with the slot. The wire is fastened by
heating the ends red hot, bending them at right angles to the main
part and driving them into the creaser.

¶A razorlike edge can be put on a knife blade by carefully stropping

it without lubricant on a piece of smooth aluminum after first whetting
on an oilstone.
 A Miniature Illuminating-Gas Plant
By MORTON SOUTHARD

ery few persons realize that the smoke issuing from

chimneys is mainly coal gas carrying minute particles
of unconsumed carbon that gives it a dark-gray color,
containing, besides, some sulphur and sulphuric
gases, carbonic-acid gas, and other impurities. It is
only necessary to collect the impurities to get a gas
that will burn with a bright flame.
The products obtained from a gas plant are gas,
ammoniacal liquor, coal tar, and coke. Of 1 ton of coal,
1,500 lb. remains in the retort, or furnace, as coke; 20 gal. of
ammoniacal liquor and 140 lb. of coal tar are taken from the
cylinders and washers. When distilled, the ammoniacal liquor will
yield close to 18 gal. of ammonia, which is used in the manufacture
of artificial ice and cold storage. The coal tar will yield approximately
19 lb. of benzol, which is the base of all true aniline dyes; 6 lb. of
naphthalene, commonly known as camphor flakes or moth balls,
which also yields some dyes; 4 lb. of toluene, which is valuable as a
solvent and is the base of saccharine, and about 2 lb. each of phenol
(carbolic acid), pyrene, anthracene, xylenol, cresol, chrysene, and
alizarin. The residuum is coal-tar pitch, used extensively as a binder
for briquetting coal dust for household consumption, and also for
roofing and street paving. From these various coal-tar products, dyes
of every tint, shade and color are obtained, as well as other industrial
chemicals, from flavoring extracts to perfumes, from volatile oils to
high explosives, and from the sweetest of all sweets to the bitterest
of bitter.
A model gas plant—one that will be instructive and in no way
dangerous if proper precautions are taken—can be built from a few
fire brick, some pieces of pipe, and a few tin cans. Enough fire brick
must be secured to build a furnace 14 in. square by 20 in. high,
inside measurements. Build up the four walls on a level surface of
the ground, laying the bricks with a cement mortar to seal them
perfectly, as coal gas will find any small crevice and escape. For this
reason it is best to build a second wall outside of the first and plaster
the joint between them as it is built. When the four walls are finished,
make a grate of fire brick in the bottom by setting the brick on edge
and spacing them about ¹⁄₄ in. After the walls are dry, make ready the
material for the fire. Place sufficient kindling on the grate to start a
quick fire, then cover it with coal. When this is done, cover the
furnace with a heavy piece of asbestos board large enough to reach
the outside edge of the furnace walls. The board must be cemented
to the top surface of the brick walls. Place the cement mixture on the
wall top, then press the board on it, and place a weight on top until
the cement becomes dry. The cement mixture should consist of one
part cement to two parts of fine sand.
Procure a large can, such as used in canning tomatoes, having a
diameter of more than 4 in. and with top and bottom whole; also two
other cans, each having a capacity of 2 gal. with closed heads.
Connect the first can to the furnace with a piece of 2-in. pipe, as
shown in the illustration. The pipe can be bent for convenience, but
in case such a piece is not at hand, regular pipe connections can be
made with threaded ends, ells, waste nuts, etc. In either case, be
sure to make the joints gas-tight. If a bent pipe is used, the ends can
be cemented in the asbestos furnace top and the can top. Cut a hole
centrally in the asbestos top and at one side in the can top. Fit one
end of the pipe in the hole made in the asbestos and seal the
connection with asbestos cement, then do likewise with the end that
enters the can top.

The Furnace Made of Fire Brick is Connected to the Condenser and Washers
with Ordinary Iron Pipe through Which the Gases Pass After being Purified
Before They Enter the Storage Tank

In connecting the first and second cans, use a piece of 1-in. pipe.
This may be bent or connected with ells to form a U-shaped piece. In
either case, one end should be longer than the other so that one will
just pass into the first can, where it is sealed with asbestos cement,
while the other end passes through the second-can top, where it is
sealed, and extends to the bottom of the can. For the connection to
the third can, make a hole in the top of the second can, but do not
seal it up to the connection until the can is first filled with water to
within 2 or 3 in. of the top. Also put powdered coke into the water,
about halfway of the can’s height.
The connection from the second and third cans should be made of
glass so that the gas can be observed passing through it between
the cans. This is not absolutely necessary, however, and a piece of
¹⁄₂-in. iron pipe can be used instead. This pipe is connected in the
same manner as that between the first and second, extending to the
bottom of the third can and being sealed where it passes through the
tops. The third can is filled with water to within 2 or 3 in. of the top.
The gas coming from the third can or washer, is ready for use, but
as the pressure would not be uniform, a storage tank must be
provided. To make a storage tank suitable for the needs of this small
plant, procure two pans from 10 to 12 in. in diameter and from 3 to 4
in. deep. One pan should be a trifle smaller, so that it may be
inverted in the larger pan, as shown. Make a connection from the
third can with a rubber hose to the bottom of the larger pan, near the
center, and use this pan as the bottom part of the storage tank. Pour
into this pan enough water to make it 2 in. deep, invert the other pan
and set it into the water. Attach a gas hose to the bottom of the
inverted pan and fasten a gas jet into the rubber-hose end. This will
make the gas plant complete and ready to operate.
To start the furnace, bore a hole in one side of the brick walls,
about the size of an ordinary lead pencil, and insert a lighted taper to
set fire to the kindling. There may be some difficulty in getting the fire
to burn at first, and it may be necessary to force considerable air in;
however, when the fire is fairly started, it will burn freely and the
gases will soon find their way through the first pipe to the condenser,
which is the first can. There they will mingle and deposit some tar
and ammonia, then flow out through the second pipe, up through the
coke and water in the second can and through the glass tube, where
they may be observed passing into the can of water, where some
more tar and ammonia will be deposited. After leaving this can the
gas will find its way through the rubber tube into the storage tank. It
passes from this tank to the burner, where it can be lighted and will
burn with a bright flame.
If it is possible to force steam into the furnace when the fire is at its
height, a much better quality and a larger volume of gas will be
made. This is accomplished by placing a closed can of water over a
fire near the furnace and connecting it to the latter with a piece of 1-
in. gas pipe. The water in this can must be boiling hot at the time the
fire in the furnace is lighted. The steam entering the furnace is
decomposed, the hydrogen being released as a gas. The pipe
connecting the boiler with the furnace should be fitted in the furnace
wall so that the steam will pass in at the top of the fire; about halfway
up the side of the furnace being about right. The steam will start the
gases more rapidly and force them through the pipes.
Make sure that all connections are carefully sealed to prevent the
escape of gases, as they will always follow the lines of least
resistance and pass out through a very small crevice. The only
danger with a plant of this size is from fire, wherefore it should be
built away from inflammable materials. It will not make sufficient gas
to be of injury to any living being.
 Webfoot Attachments for Swimmers
In order to make the feet more effective in swimming, webfoot
devices are frequently used. A simple arrangement for this purpose
is shown in the illustration. It consists of three thin sections of metal,
or wood, fastened together on the back side with spring hinges,
which tend to remain open, thereby keeping all the sections spread
out in one straight surface. The center section should be cut to
conform closely to the shape of the foot, or it will produce
considerable resistance during the onward stroke of the foot, and
tend to stop the forward movement of the swimmer. Straps should be
provided for attaching the device to the foot; one to fit across the
toes, and the other adjusted around the ankle by a buckle.
 Device for Attaching to the Feet to Work Like Webfeet

When using the device, the upward or forward stroke of the legs
will cause the wings to brush against the water, creating sufficient
resistance to overcome the slight force of the springs, thereby
pushing the wings parallel with the direction of the stroke. During the
opposite, or pushing, stroke, the resistance of the water combined
with the opening tendency of the hinges will quickly spread the wings
out flat, greatly increasing the effectiveness of the feet.—Contributed
by J. B. Laplace, New York City.
 Repairing Sectional Spun-Metal Candlesticks
In repairing hollow, spun-brass candlesticks I find that frequently
the metal rod holding the sections together becomes loosened from
the pitch composition designed to hold it in the base. By tinning the
outer edges of the sections that fit into the other portions, which are
also tinned on the inner surfaces, and then using an iron, or an
alcohol torch, to run the solder together at these points, I secure a
very firm job. Paper can be placed at points necessary to keep the
solder from running out of bounds. When the rod is firm and the nut
only gives trouble, solder can be used to fasten the nut permanently
to the grease cup at the top.—Contributed by James M. Kane,
Doylestown, Pa.
 Alcohol Blowtorch for Difficult Soldering

Clamps for Holding the Alcohol Receptacle on the End of the Blowpipe

To solder in close places, I have found the device illustrated quite

convenient, as it leaves both hands free to handle the object being
soldered. Two pieces of spring brass, about 3 in. long and ¹⁄₄ in.
wide, are bent to the shape shown at A and clamped together with a
screw taken from a dry cell, as shown at B. This device clamped to
the blowpipe end and fitted with a tube, such as used for holding
pencil leads, filled with a wick saturated in alcohol, completes the
blowtorch. It makes an excellent tool for small work, as the hands
are free to hold the parts to be soldered in place.—Contributed by J.
A. Tandy, Ghent, Ky.

¶Electric wires should never be run crooked.

 Preventing Sewing-Machine Thread from
Tangling

The highly enameled surface of a sewing-machine arm offers so

little resistance to the bottom of the spool that the thread will unwind
faster than it is used, thereby causing a tangle. A piece of paper
slipped over the spool post will cause enough friction to prevent the
spool from revolving beyond the proper speed.
 Bearing Made of a Brass Cartridge

A brass cartridge makes a good bearing to fit in a wood driving rod

used to run a small piece of foot-power machinery. It prevents wear
on the wood and admits more lubrication than the bare wood. Cut
the cartridge to the proper length, and ream out the cap hole even
with the diameter of the bore of the shell.
 Lighting a Match in the Wind

To light a match in a stiff wind is very easy if the wood part back of
the prepared end is cut and turned up about it before striking the
match. The curled-up shavings about the striker will catch fire easily
and hold a flame, where in the ordinary way it is easily blown out
when the composition of the striker has burned up.—Contributed by
E. K. Marshall, Oak Park, Ill.
 A Miniature Cement Plant
By MORTON SOUTHARD

Formolded
many years geologists searched for a substance which could be
into any size and form, and would have the hardness of
rock. As a matter of fact it was found that limestone was composed
of carbonic-acid gas, clay, and lime, and that when great heat was
applied the sealing bond was disrupted and the rock was reduced to
a powder. When this powder was placed in water the gas was set
free so fast that it made the water boil. The powder, or calcined rock,
is now known as lime. This action demonstrated that nature used
heat and moisture in forming these materials into rock. Knowing that
clay contained silica, and that silica furnished the sealing quality of
rocks, experiments were made to reverse the order of this rock
formation, and a cement was produced. Equal portions of lime and
clay were mixed together and stirred until all parts were thoroughly
mingled, and then the mixture was subjected to a very high heat,
after which the resulting mass was ground to a powder. When this
powder was mixed with water, instead of the gases passing off as
they did in the case of the lime, they penetrated the clay and the
mixture became hard. This was first called Portland cement, as it
was made from Portland limestone.
 The Furnace is Built Up of Ordinary Brick and Used for Calcining the Lime

This discovery partly solved the problem of artificial-rock making,

but not wholly, for the best makes will break, peel, and crack without
the slightest cause and when least expected, and besides its dark-
gray color and rough appearance is unattractive. Much progress has
been made with cement for interior decorations and many of the
finest marbles are closely imitated. This grade of cement will not
weather and its use is confined wholly to interior work. A white
cement is much desired and many of the large manufacturers
maintain laboratories where experiments are carried on constantly in
the endeavor to produce it.
 To build a miniature cement plant, first secure sufficient common
brick to make a furnace with an inside cavity, 20 in. square and 24 in.
high. Two sides and one back wall are built up, sealing the brick with
mortar, clay, or cement. The bottom is covered with bricks standing
on edge, and so placed that they will be about ¹⁄₄ in. apart, to serve
as a grate. The top is then covered with a piece of tin, or asbestos,
and a hole is cut in its center to receive a pipe, about 3 in. in
diameter, for a chimney. This chimney should be about 15 in. high.
Build the front wall halfway up by laying the brick loosely together so
that the fire will get the air through the crevices, then cover the grate
with kindling, place coal on top of it, and start the fire. When it is well
under way, place a few fair-sized lumps of limestone on top of the
fire and complete the wall to the top by laying the brick as closely as
possible. Use sufficient coal to burn at least two hours.
When the fire has burned itself out and the furnace has cooled,
remove the front wall and take out the burned limestone. Some parts
of the limestone will be mixed with the coal, but most of it will remain
in the lump, which is known as “black lime,” and when it is placed in
water it will give off gas very fast. Obtain some fire clay and
thoroughly mix equal portions of lime and clay, then place the
mixture in a one-piece pan, made of pressed tin or sheet iron, as a
soldered-bottom pan will come apart with the heat. Build up the front
of the furnace as before, build a fire and place the pan on the fire
and let it burn itself out. When the furnace has cooled, remove the
front, take out the pan, and pulverize the mass in the pan. When this
powder is placed in water it will become hard. If some sand or gravel
is mixed with it, and the mortar thus formed is spread out over a flat
surface, a miniature cement sidewalk will be the result.