Silent Night

By Priscilla Laster

Carter has always been infatuated with Mia. A holiday season offers them some time together. Carter finds himself pampering her wounded her body and nurturing her wounded emotions back to health. If you appreciate a dialog-rich read that mixes love, romance and erotica together, I know you’ll appreciate this read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Priscilla Laster
• Release date: Jul 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310650512

Priscilla Laster

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Book preview

Silent Night

By: Priscilla Laster

Fiction, Sex, Oral Sex, Women’s Romance, Women’s Erotica, Holidays, Christmas

Carter has always been infatuated with Mia. A holiday season offers them some time together. Carter finds himself pampering her wounded her body and nurturing her wounded emotions back to health. If you appreciate a dialog-rich read that mixes love, romance and erotica, I know you’ll appreciate this read.

Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Chapter 01

Carter stood by his window, one eye on the watch on his wrist. It was just after eleven, that magical hour when most of the traffic dis down and the neighborhood in the old downtown area settles in for the night, the quiet creeping through the air with the mist from the small stream to the west of his apartment. Across the road he could see some early Christmas decorations, but he knew that the real ‘lighting up’ would start in about two weeks.

She would be along soon.

He shifts the threadbare curtain a little to the side and tries to peer down the street, attempting to see her approach sooner, but he knew she would appear around the corner as always. He also knows that he will have no chance to look at her neat little form until she does. He looks at his watch. Another minute had passed.

‘She would be along soon’.

He frets restlessly when the minutes continues to trickle away, like the incessant dripping of droplets in the back of his mind; a tap that didn’t quite close all the way.

‘She would be along soon’.

Finally, she was there. His hands tighten around the folds of the curtain as he watches her round the corner, his very being tightening up in anticipation as his eyes follows her hungrily. She’s wearing her dark, mid-thigh-length coat. He could see her shapely leg taking carefully measures steps. Her head is bent down, as always, obscuring her features. He wonders (once again) what he would see if she looks up. He knew a little about her -- her skin was milky pale in comparison to her dark coat. Her hair was also dark, cut in a straight, no-frills bob that reaches her chin and was usually tucks away behind her ear. Her arms were always folds across her chest, as if she was trying to get away from her surroundings by climbing into herself. She’s a picture of despondency and hopelessness as she walks down the pavement, the mist from the river swirling around her legs with ghostlike tendrils.

‘She’s breaking his heart’.

He follows her with his eyes, knowing her pattern well. Under the next streetlamp she would stop, bend over to adjust her shoe in the weak glow, and continue around the corner to wherever she was going. He would have to wait until tomorrow to see her again. What did it say about him, about how low he’s sunk, that these two minutes of watching an unknown girl walk down the street was the culmination of all his hopes and dreams? That his every day was spent in a state of endless waiting, waiting? He was forever waiting for something -- for the night to be over so he can get up, for the shops to open so he can struggle down the stairs with his bad knee screaming in protest to buy coffee and a microwave dinner. For the afternoon to pass so he could sit on the small little balcony his apartment was outfits with and watch the sun set over the dingy part of the city horizon he was privy to. He watches her as she stops on cue, her fingers busily tweaking at the straps of her shoes. More than anything, he was always, always waiting for her. She got up after a few seconds and his eyes follows her as she proceeds down the street, her pace a little faster now, as if she was suddenly aware of the hour and the fact that she was a pretty girl, walking alone. When he could no longer see her, he pulls the curtains in place and turns around, facing the dingy apartment he owned.

Deep down, he knew, the longest wait of all was the countdown of years that would mark the end of his miserable existence.

What can I get for you? Mia asks the two men who are sitting in a booth in the back.

They’re both dressed in similar casual attire -- jeans, dark