Merry Christmas to one and all!

I was not expecting to be writing this, especially with a 24 hour deadline, but one pal named Becky from twinspirationgifts(dot)com gave a bunch of us an irresistible challenge. So, girlfriend? I don't think I've ever written 20 pages in that short a time period, but here ya go. Just because you went and fell down the stairs and all. Don't do it again!

Check out the other contestants' entries, including texasbella, Emma-Tigger Fairbrother, Vampmama, and Mid-night Cougar, by going to their Profiles. If I find more participants, I'll list them on my Facebook (you don't need an account to view it) because we can all use some Christmas cheer.

Without further ado, I give you Edward, Bella, and assorted characters from 'I Hunger', 'Little Angel of Forks', and 'Heaven Help My Heart'. A few of you may recognize the character names you gave me for Leah and Ivo's wedding. A few of you will recognize a plot bunny for which you've asked me. Enjoy!

Love and hugs,

Jess Molly

Merry Christmas, Edward

December 25th, 2025, 8am:

The Great Room is already chaos and I think my brain is bruised. A bunch of the teens are playing jazz in the back corner near the dining room, and I try to fixate upon that. My nineteen-year-old brother-in-law, Caleb, is having a ball playing the sax. If you can call it that. I'm not sure you can call his attempts to blow through such an instrument 'playing'. It sounds more like sucking than blowing. Oh, well. At least he likes jazz. He wants me to teach him to Lindy. You can't beat that in a baby brother.

William, Fox and Dana, my granddaughters Lottie and Tina, Ang and Ben's boys, Rafi, Tam, Ashley Hawkeye, and Leah and Ivo's brood are in on the jam session, too. It's not the first time I've regretted buying drums. And it's not the only racket in here, today: half the Quileute women are in the kitchen, baking up twelve enormous turkeys, niblet corn, sweet potato casserole and pumpkin pie; some of the Kwoli boys are dangling from the balconies, showing off; and the vampires are whooshing around everywhere -singing and jabbering in half a dozen languages and decorating the crap out of every available surface. The Great Room looks like a glitter bomb exploded all over it. Alice is in her glory. With a sigh, I pinch my eyes shut. It is going to be a very long day.

Where's your Christmas spiri?. Somebody shoves a hat down on my head, hard, and I see stars. White, prickly ones. I open one annoyed eye to find Seth's mate, Apple, grinning at me with amused yellow ones. She's wearing a very fluffy-brimmed red Santa hat. "Happy Ho Ho, Brother Ed," she trills.

"Urgh. Merry Christmas, Bratty Sis." I grumble, taking the Santa hat off my head and rubbing at my scalp. Her heart-shaped face falls into lines of concern.

"Headache?" she asks me sympathetically.

"Yep," I say curtly. It's the drawback of living in such a huge community. Unless Bella's around, I can't get away from anyone's thoughts, and oh, boy, are they squicky today. All the dedicated couples are making plans for the evening. Romantic plans. A few of the singles are wishful-fantasizing, too. Ew.

"Maybe you ought-a go out for a spell," she suggests kindly. Sometimes, even though she's lived in Seattle since she was three, those Mississippi genes shine through. Or maybe it's just because Jasper's her favourite uncle.

"I'm waiting for Bella," I sigh. I've got an idea that she's somewhere in the nursery, organizing up the Nativity Play, and it will be louder there than it is here. Scary boo.

The front door bumps open, admitting a blast of freezing Muskoka air and a rag-tag group of my kinfolk, bearing a bound, slush-dripping Douglas Fir about twenty feet high. I simply gawp at them because it's too big to be allowed indoors. My Dad's carrying a washtub that must be as old as I am, and in a thrice, the tree is standing in it, and Dad and Jazz are fastening the stand. Unfortunately, it's dead-center in the room, eliminating half the seating and blocking nearly all the heat from the enormous fireplace.

"Um, you can't put that there," I say reluctantly from my spot on the couch. Carlisle decided a few weeks back that he wanted to temporarily retire from leading the coven, so it falls to me to boss everybody around: the Veggies, the Allies, the Kwoli Wolves, the Hybrids, the humans, the Stripes … even the Palm Dryad and the Kitsune when they're around. Being bossy is really nothing new for me, but it's odd for me to tell Carlisle what to do. And he likes to ask me 'why' about three hundred times a day. I seriously don't think any of us did that to him. Most of the time.

"Why ever not?" Dad wants to know. I like the hat, Cocksparrow. Clashes with your hair abominably.

"They haven't done the Nativity yet, and there are so many people coming that nobody will be able to see," I tell him.

"We'll just have to get up close and personal," Rangi the Maori vampire booms, gurning a scary-face at Lottie, who makes one back at him.

"Oh, I never thought," Carlisle says affably. "Come on, good fellows, let's wrangle this monster into the corner." Dad, Ivo and Jazz manoeuver the ridiculous conifer into the front left corner of the room while the Kwoli with them smile and jiggle around like the high-strung puppies they are. There's just enough space for the tree next to the podium from whence we teach and deliver meetings. In a few moments the tree's up, and with a snick of sharp vampire nails, the ropes are released and the branches spring out –poof- raining needles everywhere. At that moment, my mother chooses to walk in.

"Oh, pretty!" Esme enthuses, flitting over to Dad, who turns smoky eyes upon her and raises a piece of mistletoe over his head. She seizes his ears and sticks her tongue down his throat. Jeez Louise. They're really acting their human age. Dad's even taking a sabbatical. He says they're going to Esme's Island for a while.

"Get your room," Ivo teases, amber eyes twinkling.

"That's 'get a room'," Dad corrects him.

The Inuit vampire blinks once, in that cute way he has, reminding me of my friend Cuãā. "Thank you." He frowns, and growls, "Get a room."

"I second that," Jasper drawls.

Alice comes skipping in from somewhere out of the back. She has little deer antlers strapped to her head. Real ones. "Ooh! I like the tree, Jazzy!" She rubs noses with him and gives him the once-over. Then, beaming, she arches her back and shrieks at the vaulted ceiling: "Tree time!"

Our allied horde stampedes in from all over the lodge. Hurriedly, I count 185 bodies, and not everyone is even here yet. Pretty soon we're going to have to build a second lodge.

A bunch of vampires kneel or bend over, and more run up their backs to create a ramp. Young Hybrid teens run up it to place decorations high on the lush, fragrant tree. Once one kid's done, he or she jumps to the floor, and the next one gets a turn. It's efficient, but noisy, because the Stripes aren't as graceful as the full-venomed vampires. Before you can say 'Jack Frost', the tree is coated from top to bottom in the new bio-luminescent lights.

I decide that they are very pretty.

Everyone is having a whee of a time putting homemade decorations on the lower branches, when the front door bams open again, assaulting us all with the frigid winter wind.

This is gonna be so great! Emmett? What have you done?

"Maaaaah!" a terrified creature bellows deeply, and the sound echoes off the walls.

All of us freeze. All of us.

We turn as one toward the door. Emmett is standing inside the threshold looking pleased as Punch, and he is holding a moose as big as a horse over his shoulders. A moose, for Heaven's sake! Indoors! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Didn't he learn anything from the cow incident back in '60?

"Moooooooooooo!" the terrified creature bleats, eyes rolling and hooves wiggling. To my horror, I realize that silver tinsel and red silk baubles are dangling from its lugubrious antlers.

Esme is the first to recover the power of speech. Her jaw works for a moment, and then she goes off on Emmett like a firecracker (Yeah, you don't ever want to get Esme started). I plug my ears, and some of those individuals who follow my lead best, copy me.

"Emmett Wallace McCarty Cullen di Yawaruna! What on earth do you think you're doing?" my mother yells shrilly.

"Moooooooo?" the moose bellows pathetically. It seems to be crying for help, and realizing that assistance is not forthcoming.

Emmett cringes a little in face of Mom's wrath. "Um… it's… Christmas dinner for the vampires."

Our mother crosses her arms, eyes narrowed. "And just where do you think you're going to keep a bull moose until evening?"

Emmett is starting to look a little like the moose. Eyes morphing black, he gulps nervously. "In my room." Oh, this I would love to see. Bull moose in a china shop? Rosalie would go off her nut.

Esme flings her arm toward the door. "Get that smelly thing out of my house, Emmett, or I'm putting you in Bella's chipper shredder!" she snarls.

"But Mom," he whines.

Carlisle puts his hands on his hips. "Emmett, I appreciate the gesture, but! Take it outside, slaughter it, put it in the woodshed and siphon off the blood. We'll warm it later. You're torturing the poor thing."

"Okay, Dad," Em says, his light dimmed only a little. He spins on his heel, angling his shoulder a bit, and the poor moose looks back at us in abject terror.

"Mooooooo!" it cries, and dumps an elephantine pile of shit right in the middle of Rosalie's red oriental carpet.

"Awwrgh!" everyone in the room yelps, pinching their noses shut. What a godforsaken stench!

"Oops," Emmett says timidly. Rosie's gonna be pissed. I hope she doesn't refuse to unwrap me tonight. Once again, he angles his shoulders to get the moose's massive antlers through the door. Eventually he gets it outside, where we can hear a mournful 'moo-ooo-ooo-ooooo' fading into the back yard.

Jasper simply rolls up the carpet, shit and all, and carries it outside. The rest of us heave a sigh of relief. There's a rush of air, and Charlie is sitting next to me, regarding me calmly through his golden eyes.

"Interesting morning?" he asks me.

"You have no idea," I moan.

"Smells like a barn in here. That because of the Nativity?" he queries. Last year, there were live sheep.

"Nah. Em brought in a moose."

"Crap. That boy's one bulb short of a working string. Where's our girl?"

"I think she's doing the dress rehearsal for the Nativity Play," I wince, nursing my sore head. The nice thing about Charlie is he can shield thoughts from me almost as well as Bella.

Yeah, I don't want to know Charlie's thoughts.

"Speak of the devil," my father-in-law smiles, as I pick my mate's scent out of the air. She walks up behind the couch and slides her hands around my neck, resting her lips against my cheek.

"Morning, Beautiful," she croons. I cover her arms with my own.

"Hi," I sigh, feeling her comforting shield slide around me. All the mental noise instantly vanishes. I turn my face to press a soft kiss to her mouth, and shut my eyes in blessed relief.

Poor Mocha-chino. The racket's getting to me, too. How 'bout we blow this popsicle stand for a bit?

"Coax me," I murmur, standing up, and circle the couch to join my mate. And stop, stunned.

Dona Bella is wearing the shortest, minxiest red dress I have ever seen. It's a classic, long-sleeved knit with a vee neck that makes me want to lick her all over. She has golden glitter in her wavy hair that brings out the colour of her eyes, and, like Alice, she's sporting a flirty pair of little deer antlers. There's a long red winter scarf wrapped around her neck, and she's wearing boots: thigh high black leather boots fashioned to look like a toe dancer's shoes. They're… ballet boots, and she has to walk on her toes, and they're … the hottest prop I've ever seen.

Bella arches a brow at me. Wipe your drool, and let's go for a run.

Nobody has to tell me twice. Bella Cullen is one minxy chick. Wordlessly, I rub my knuckles over the corners of my mouth, offer a now-chuckling Bella my arm, and escort her to the door.

"Be back by two," Esme calls after us. We wave and keep going before anybody can stop us to give us a job.

Outside, the air is crisp and we fly through Ontario's snow-laden wilderness, the white light stinging our sensitive eyes. But soon, we are under the cover of the hushed, pine-scented forest, and my headache is an unimportant memory. Bella and I run effortlessly, unhampered by the ice-riddled ground of the forest floor. Almost an hour later, we emerge in a clearing that is covered in a sheet of ice. In the summer, it's a beautiful meadow where we like to come, but in the fall the water collects in it, forming a natural rink. Bella turns, and slides right out to the middle like a figure skater. My wife is so graceful now. I have no idea how she can perch upon those toes and not tip over.

Bella unwinds the scarf from her neck and releases it into the wind, where it flutters like a red ribbon against the backdrop of the snow. She looks over her shoulder flirtatiously and reaches for the hem of her dress. And then, she peels it off. I think I've died and gone to Heaven. She has on a bright red, lacy corset and a matching gee string. On the back of the corset are tiny white fairy wings.

"Like what you see?" she asks me, fluttering her lashes and wiggling her ass at me.

Wordlessly, I pull my grey sweater over my head, and cast it to the ground. The red silk necktie quickly joins it, and I am sliding smoothly out onto the ice in order to breathe down Bella's delicious cleavage. My shirt must go. Now. I grasp the front, and rend it in two, tugging it off my wrists. By the time I'm pressed up against my mate, all I'm wearing is a pair of button-down jeans and smooth-bottomed skateboarding shoes.

"Got an early Christmas gift for me?" Bella coos.

"I thought you'd never ask," I purr, tugging at my fly-buttons. Undoing my belt, I let the jeans sag past my hips, and wait for her reaction to my little surprise.

My H-string is red silk, covered in a zillion bio-optic lights. It spells out 'Naughty: spank me' in flashing blue and white block letters. Bella snorts and puts her hand over her mouth, hiding her smile.

"Have you been a bad boy?" she deadpans.

"Extremely," I tell her eagerly.

Pushing off with her toes, my mate glides across the ice like a fairy princess, and I admire the rear view happily. I start to chase after her, and then she circles, swooping down to pick up my tie. Skating like a pro, she rejoins me, placing it around my neck, and then she uses it to pull me after her like a dog on a leash. I set my hands on her corseted hips and we glide across the ice together, equally matched and in perfect synchronicity.

"What are you planning to do with me, Dona Isabella?" I croon in her ear.

"I don't know. I'm pretty sure you're incorrigible." Bella tugs me off the ice by the necktie, and starts to pad through the trees. Abruptly, she diverts from our path and leads me to a thick fallen log. Turning toward me, she places her feet far apart, and bends her knees in a deep plié until she is sitting, her face level with my crotch, her knees pushed high by the sexy boots.

Bella eyes me coyly. "I'm going to have my wicked way with you." She reaches into my jeans, wraps her hands around my glutes, and slides the restrictive denim out of her way. "I like these," she tells me, brushing her fingers along the edge of the cocksling. Mr Ed oozes precum into the soft lining. Bella's fingers trace out his shape, driving me mad with want. "Bend over," she orders me.

I turn my back and slowly bend at the waist, resting my hands on my thighs as I brace for the hit.

"Oh, Mr Cullen. You have the ginchiest ass. It's eminently lickable,"she croons. And then, she brings down her palm with a loud smack that jars my teeth.

"Ungh!"

"I want you over my knee," she says firmly, and I smell the best of scents, emanating from between her loins. I allow her to tug me closer, and ever-so-carefully, I kneel between her legs, draping my upper body across her right thigh. It's an odd angle because of her shoe, and I'm not sure how she's going to reach my ass.

Bella pulls my shoulder gently past her thigh, tipping her knee to slide farther under my abdomen. "I want you to support yourself on your hands, and rest your hip flexors against my thigh," she directs me. Carefully, I lean forward until my hands are firmly on the ground, and lean my cheek on the log upon which she's sitting. This means my ass is tipped up in the air. My legs, constrained by the jeans, search for purchase on the forest floor, and when she moves her leg, it leaves me unable to find firm ground. I am off-balance. I have surrendered control. For the first time in weeks, I start to relax.

Bella's warm hands caress my backside, and an appreciative groan escapes me. Then, she delivers a series of sensual taps to my ass, gradually increasing their strength until I'm vibrating like a piano string. Occasionally, she moves her leg to keep me off-balance. And after several minutes of this, I let loose my noises and spout a seemingly endless torrent of jibberish at her, knowing that were I human, tears would be soaking my cheeks and falling into the snow. As I grunt out epithets and garbled praise and endearments, my mate hums at me that it's okay not to be in charge all the time. She knows I am close to coming, for my fingers push into the frozen soil and my smooth-shod feet scramble for grip. Instead of continuing to spank me to climax, she scoops up a handful of snow and rubs it over my throbbing skin.

I pant, resting my face on the smooth bark of the log.

"Get up, Edward," my mate orders me gently.

I push off gently from the ground and wobble to standing, feeling a little confused.

"Tell me what you want, Baby," she coaxes.

"I want… you to squirt in my mouth," I tell her, trying and failing to marshal my breath.

My mate motions me to my knees and I sink without hesitation, waiting for direction. Bella lifts her right leg and places the toe of her minxy boot on the log beside her, so that I can see the apex of her thighs. Her left foot remains on the ground, leg bent and spread wide. Her thong is soaked through with jism, and it clings to her womanly parts so that I can see every detail of her body's construction through the fragile silk. I press my open mouth to the thong and give a gentle suck, and Bella cries out a little. I watch her adoringly, and run a finger along the string of the thong. A simple tug, and she is laid bare to me.

"So beautiful," I tell her as always, running my hands along the insides of her thighs. "I want you to cum in my mouth, Isabella Marie. I want you to drench me in it. Feed me." A trickle of wetness dribbles down her thigh toward the cuff of her boot, and I lick it up before it can go to waste. Then I lick the other thigh just to tease her.

"Edward, I am dripping for you. Kindly get your mouth on me before I lose my mind," my Bella growls.

I caress her boot-ensconced knees gently. "You're so wet."

"It turns me on."

"I know," I purr, stroking her slit lightly with two fingers. I poke the tip of one into her vagina, and find no resistance, so I drool some venom on them and push them inside.

"Fffuuuck," my Bella moans, watching. She bucks as I curl my fingers up onto her gee, and coos when I bend my face to her pussy and run my flat warm tongue from her perineum to her tailored mons. I apply my mouth to her clit and suckle lightly, and again, my mate bucks against me. Purring, I take my left hand and place it on her lower abdomen to hold her down, continuing to curl my fingers against her gee. And I lap and suck and drool and hum and paint her shiny labia with my venom, knowing it will tingle, and wait for the show that only my precious girl is allowed to give me.

"Edward, I'm going to cum," my Bella says at last, her voice strained, and I smile triumphantly, feeling exactly as I did the very first time we did this.

I exhort her: "Cum for me, Baby. Soak me. I'm so thirsty for-" and then a wave of fluid gushes out, and quickly, I duck to capture it and gulp it down. Nothing assuages the burn in my throat better.

"Uuungh!" my Bella says, her back curling into a 'C' as her sweet hot jism runs down my throat. She squirts and squirts until I wonder if I might have to take her on a quick hunt before escorting her home. She comes for several minutes, and then her eyes roll back in her head a little and she sags onto the log, her eyes velvety black and full of stars.

I lick her clean, not missing a drop of her sweetness, and thrill as something in her ejaculate sings to my cells the way her human blood used to do.

My mate regards me curiously.

"What?" I ask, feeling quite giddy.

"You aren't going to want any supper," she says, arching a brow at me.

I feel my lip tip up in a cocky grin. "Why would I want moose blood when I can have the nectar of my Singer instead?"

"Flatterer."

"Not joshing."

"Stand up," my mate growls, disconcerting me. I do, and she grasps me by the hips and tugs me toward her, so that I have to catch myself from stumbling, for the jeans are still bunched around my ankles. She starts poking around my H-string, which really impresses Mr Ed. Of course, where Bella is concerned, it doesn't take much to impress him.

"Where's the battery?" she wants to know. It makes me feel smug.

"Up my ass," I joke. She regards me blankly, making me laugh. "Just joshing. It doesn't have one. It's a bio-optic."

"Science is so cool," my Bella declares, dipping a finger into the sling. Her eyes widen momentarily. "You're so wet. I'm surprised you haven't burned out the lights."

"There's a lot of lining between me and the lights," I tell her.

"And Mr Ed hasn't poked a hole in it either. Well, Beautiful, don't expect me to tear these from your ginchy bod. I think we need to preserve them for future use."

"Grr-wow, Minxy Kitty, you can spank me anytime," I purr.

"Let's see how Mr Ed is faring, shall we?" Bella asks, sliding her fingers under the strings of the thong to free my throbbing dick from its confines. The cold air hits my slick skin, making me shiver, and I start to fret about possible shrinkage, but no need, for my mate's hot, shiny red mouth is already wrapped around me. She takes me deep, making me groan. Releasing Mr Ed with a pop, she eyes me like she's about to eat me for lunch. Which she is. Ain't life grand?

"Hold my hair," my Bella orders, and I thread my hands behind her ears and lift the heavy curls from her shoulders. And then she really goes to town, sucking my cock so hard that I feel I am going to step off the brink into madness, and with a jolt I realize that I want more, more, always more. Immediately, I tug her hair, pulling her head back so that she releases me, and step back out of reach. I toe off my shoes, and hurriedly shuck my jeans, but then I realize that the cold ground is an unwanted distraction, so I force myself to be patient long enough to put my shoes back on. Bella watches me with a twinkle in her golden eye.

"You know, I could get used to this look on you," she joshes.

Yeah. Black skate shoes with white laces, and a red silk tie. Very natty. A subliminal growl thrums in my chest. I must be inside my mate.

Bella puts her foot down and stands up carefully. Turning her back, she looks over her shoulder, reaches for one of the scraggly tree trunks behind the log, and puts her left foot up on it. I am drawn irresistibly to her tempting ass cheeks, and reach to fondle them with both hands.

"You know," I croon in my wife's ear, "I could get used to this look, too, Minx. Antlers… corset, and boots to die for, all wrapped up like a Christmas present? Yummy. In fact, you're lucky I don't have a camera, or you might just end up on our Christmas Card next year."

Bella snorts. "Yeah, right. Then you'd have to slaughter the entire family for looking at me."

I pause to give the impression that I'm giving the matter some thought. "You're right. I'll settle for a picture for my wallet."

Bella laughs, then, a laugh that ends on a guttural moan as I push into her heat without warning. Quivering, I press my mouth against the softness of the shoulder of my beloved, and seat myself deeply in her tight pussy. My mate covers my arms with hers, tenderly as I thrust into her, grinding my hips and reveling in the sudden heat building between our joined forms.

"I like the boots, Mrs Cullen," I whisper in her ear. Indeed, wearing them, her legs are as long as mine, making it much easier to take her standing.

"I bought eight pairs in different styles," my minx informs me to my pleasure.

"Forget eight pairs," I growl. "Buy the damn company."

Bella giggles, and then forgets what is funny as I focus on bringing every nerve ending in her body to scintillating life. Soon, she is lost, mewling, whimpering and clinging to my neck in a way that makes me think I may possibly make her forget her name, even if she is a vampire. But she hasn't forgotten mine. Oh, no. With every affirmation from me, it passes through her shimmering red lips like a prayer.

"Edward."

"Yes, Baby, yes. You are mine," I tell her.

"Mine, Edward," she mewls.

"Yours," I confirm, cradling her in arms that will never fail to hold her. "Always." I press a kiss behind her ear, swimming in endorphins, basking in the intimacy of the moment.

"I'm gonna cum," my mate whimpers.

"Yes, Love. Cum for me," I entreat her.

"Cum with me, Love?"

And I fall off the edge of the world, taking Bella with me, and our leap is unusually quiet and peaceful, perhaps because of the hushed quality of our surroundings.

Half an hour later, we are lying on our backs in the middle of a frozen meadow, gazing up at a vast but featureless Canadian sky. Soon, great flakes begin to flutter down to kiss our bodies.

"Snow for Christmas," Bella murmurs.

"Mm. Nice," I say, moistening dry lips. "I suppose we should get back." I don't greet the prospect with much enthusiasm.

"I'll be with you the rest of the day," Bella promises.

"They're just so loud," I say apologetically.

"I know, right?" Bella says, eyes rolling. "And they're everywhere. I'll be so glad when everybody goes home."

"I'm glad to know I'm not the only one to feel that way," I admit, feeling more cheerful.

"You aren't the only one who gets headaches," Bella tells me. "I feel a lot better now. You?"

"Yes. Thanks for this, Minx," I tell her softly.

"You will always be my priority," my beloved reminds me, and I rejoice in the happiness of it.

Sighing contentedly, I pull off my shoes, slip back into the silly underwear, which begins to flash again in response to my body's feeble 64 degree heat, and then pull on my jeans. I stand and pull Bella to her feet, then onto my back, and slide my feet back across the ice toward home. Along the way, we recover pieces of clothing, and before we leave the forest we have found everything except Bella's red scarf, which has seemingly winged its way to Heaven.

"Merry Christmas, Husband," my Bella says, rubbing her cheek against the fur of my ridiculous Santa hat.

"Merry Christmas, Bella," I salute her, and it is not merely a wish, it is the truth.