Broke Boys Ruin Christmas: I Was Working in a Walmart Elf Costume, Now I Only Fly Emirates

HILLARY

I was working the toy aisle in a Walmart elf costume, sweating through a yeast infection and planning my fifth identity theft of the month, when I saw him.

Trey.

Black puffer. Bodega breath. Broke boy aura so loud I got wet.

I let him hit behind the loading dock before I even got his last name. Then I gave him my burner and a plan.

We weren’t supposed to catch feelings. We were supposed to finesse old men on sugar daddy apps, scam our way onto Emirates, and disappear into a Dubai penthouse with nothing but burner phones and dirty money.

But Trey kissed me like I was more than a hustle. And that scared me worse than the STD.

So I did what I do best. I ran.

Now I’m back. With his watch. With my guilt. With no idea how to say sorry to the only man who ever made me believe in something real.

If I can’t make it right, I’ll make it filthy.

TREY

She let me fuck her behind Walmart and then told me she had a UTI.

I should’ve run. Instead, I bought her tacos and helped her scam a rich white man out of his retirement fund.

We built an empire in three weeks. Sex, fraud, and a little bit of love in between.

I thought we were locked in. Until she dipped with our last ten grand and left me in a hotel room with nothing but a fake passport and a hard-on full of betrayal.

But she came back. Looking like sin. Saying sorry with her mouth and her hips and the same filthy laugh that ruined me the first time.

Now I’ve got a choice.

Let her con her way back into my bed, or remind her who taught her how to steal.

Either way, someone’s getting fucked.

A filthy Christmas novella for the broken, the bold, and the bitches who like their romance with a felony charge.