Broke Boys Ruin Christmas: His Card Declined at Dollar Tree, But His Little Brother Didn’t

Georgia:

I warned his little brother right there in the Dollar Tree aisle. If he kept running his mouth, I’d go do something real disrespectful. Like sit on his daddy’s face.

He thought I was bluffing.

Now I’ve got the man who raised him moaning my name under the glow of the Christmas tree while the family nativity set watches from the side table.

I didn’t mean to ruin their holiday. I meant to own it.

This started as revenge. I was tired of being someone’s secret, someone’s half-effort, someone whose name got dismissed like it didn’t come with consequences. So I made myself unforgettable. One kiss. One threat. One filthy secret at a time.

I should feel guilty. I don’t.

I should stop seeing him. I won’t.

Because his daddy? He doesn’t just take control. He lets me burn it all down and helps light the match.

Mr. Harris:

She came in with thigh-high boots and a mission to destroy something. Turned out it was me.

My son’s girl. His chaos. His obsession. Now mine.

She showed up dripping attitude, dared me to stop her, and I didn’t. I let her make a mess. I helped her. I tasted the aftermath.

And now I can’t get enough.

She whispers filth like scripture and straddles me like salvation. Calls me sir like a challenge and tells me she’s not sorry for a single thing.

My house is colder now. My son won’t speak. But she keeps showing up, and I keep letting her in.

Maybe I should feel ashamed.

Maybe I should tell her no.

But I’ve always been weak for women who come with sharp tongues and louder moans.

And Georgia? She doesn’t just ruin Christmas. She ruins a man in the kind of way that makes you thank her for it.