He growled and rumbled as he thrust, his pace steady and perfect, hitting her in that sweet spot over and over until she shattered.

But she remembered to exclaim, before they collapsed in a heap, “I love you.”

Those three words saw her getting two more presents that night. The last one ended in the shower, where the tile wall held her upright because her legs weren’t sure they wanted to work.

She smiled at him as they put on some clothes. A clock struck twelve, and tugging her pants up, she grinned and said, “Merry Christmas.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners and his cheek dimpled as he said, “You are the best present ever.”

She might have giggled and preened at his praises if not for the sudden shriek!

“Miguel!”

They emerged from the bathing chamber to find a fat man in a red suit, his beard tangled, his nose bulbous, and his cheeks florid, standing by the bed. Miguel sat in it, looking terrified, arms around the dog that still didn’t have a name. Puppy’s hackles were up, and it growled in a low tone. It wasn’t alone. Frik and Frak flanked the fat man.

“Who are you?” she exclaimed. “Get away from my son.”

“Call off the dogs!” the guy demanded.

“They’re just doing their job,” Marduke drawled.

“And so am I. Or don’t you recognize me? I’m Santa.”

“You?” She eyed him dubiously. He was more unkempt than she’d expected, more drunken-vagrant looking than jolly.

“In the flesh, Merry. So glad I finally found you. I am here to fix the snafu with your letter.”

The letter? She shook her head. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Santa looked around. “I think your definition of good needs help. Or have you missed the fact you’re in Hell?”

“Well aware.” She tucked closer to Marduke. “And totally fine with it. Really. You can go.”

Santa didn’t like that, and his lips flattened. “Suit yourself.” He turned to Miguel. “What about you, son? You going to turn down something from Santa? Mind you, it’s not that bike you asked for. You weren’t exactly good this year.” The fat man pulled something from his sack and dropped it onto the bed.

“Excuse me?” Merry huffed. “He’s been great considering everything he’s been through.”

“Breaking things. Temper tantrums. Being disrespectful.” Santa ticked off the supposed infractions. “Rules is rules. Bad kids get coal.”

Sure enough, a lump sat on the bed. Merry stared at it and then Santa, who had the nerve to deliver the insult to her kid in person.

Disparaging my baby. Her gaze narrowed.

Marduke snorted. “Oh, Nick. You did not just do that.”

Before Merry could go mama bear on Santa’s ass, Miguel shifted, leaning forward to grab the coal. He studied it then the man in the red suit.