Dark Christmas: A Bratva Next Door Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)
Dark Christmas: Chapter 6

God, she’s fucking sexy.

I can’t stop looking at the pictures.

Each one is a perfect tease, a slow unraveling of her body, the kind of images that stick with you. I almost want to burn them into my memory—every curve, every sly smile, every inch of pale skin. My cock stirs again as I sip my whiskey.

Just as I’m about to start from the beginning again, my phone buzzes with a notification from my Ring cam, followed by a soft chime at the front door. I pick up the phone and swipe to the camera feed, grinning as her image pops up on the screen.

Perfect.

I toss the photos back into the envelope, attempting to seal it, but the glue’s dried up, leaving it half-open. Nothing I can do about that now. I leave the envelope on my desk and set down my glass, descending the stairs and striding to the front door with purpose.

When I reach the door and pull it open, her scent hits me instantly— sugar and cinnamon—a sweetness that mixes perfectly with the sight of her. Her face is even more angelic in person, and for a moment, I’m nearly speechless.

The pictures were incredible, but nothing compares to the real woman.

I catch her eyes as they scan down my body, taking in my frame. She clears her throat, trying to compose herself, but I know I’ve had an effect on her, just as she’s had on me.

Good.

“Hi,” she starts, her voice a little shaky. “I’m Amelia. I’m, um, your neighbor.” She tilts her head backward, toward the small house across the street.

“Melor,” I respond, my voice calm and deep as I extend my hand. Hers is soft and small as she slips it into mine for a brief shake, but the electricity between us is immediate.

“How can I help you?” I ask, playing dumb even though I know exactly why she’s here.

She takes a deep breath, clearly summoning up her courage. “An envelope addressed to me was delivered here by mistake. Did you happen to get it yet?”

I lean against the doorframe, tilting my head slightly, amusement tugging at the corners of my mouth. “An envelope?”

She has no idea just how much I already know.

Her voice is like music—smooth, harmonious, and laced with a softness that makes me wonder how she’d sound if I were to seduce her, make her mine.

She’s dressed simply in a band t-shirt, a worn jean jacket, and tight black jeans that hug her curves. Nothing extravagant, but enough to make my cock stir to life again.

“I did receive a large envelope,” I admit, my eyes holding hers, “and I opened it by mistake.”

Her face flushes immediately, the color moving from her cheeks to her neck in a wave of embarrassment. She looks down for a second, as if debating whether to run or face this head-on.

“Did you… did you look at the contents?”

“I did, as a matter of fact. Not intentionally, of course.”

I nod slowly, watching as her blush deepens, spreading across her face like wildfire. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so sexy. There’s something about her vulnerability in this moment that has my blood pumping faster, my body reacting instinctively.

“Not intentionally?”

“It was on the box you left earlier. Naturally, I thought it was part of the gift.”

“Naturally,” she echoes.

“The envelope is in my office,” I say, my voice calm though there’s a darker edge to it now. I’m tempted to see just how far this little game will go. She has no idea what kind of effect she’s having on me, or maybe she does. Either way, one thing’s for sure—I’m not letting her leave without getting a little closer.

“Come on in,” I say, stepping aside as I gesture for her to come through the door. She hesitates for a second, but then nods and steps past me, her scent—sweet and warm—wrapping around me like a drug. It’s impossible not to notice the way her hips sway with every step, how round and curvy her ass is, just like the rest of her.

One glance is all it takes. The image of her bent over, completely nude, her skin flushed as I prepare to take her from behind flashes through my mind. It’s the same fantasy that had me hard just hours ago. And I’m right there again, trying to hold back the primal urge she’s stirring in me.

She moves into the house, glancing back briefly. “Just so you know, my best friend knows where I am.”

Her voice is steady but there’s a layer of nervousness in her tone. She’s smart. She’s not just walking into a stranger’s home without covering her bases. I like that. She’s careful, cautious.

“Noted,” I respond, my voice low, watching her as she looks around. She takes in the minimalist style of the place—clean lines, dark furniture, everything intentionally placed.

‘Nice place,’ she says.

“Thanks.”

I lead her up the stairs, her soft footsteps following behind me. The tension between us seems to get heavier with each step. I stop outside the door to my office and gesture toward the desk.

“Like I said, they were sitting right on top of the box of muffins, so I assumed they were part of the gift.”

I notice her shoulders tense up as she shifts her stance, but she forces a small smile.

“It’s fine, really. I can see how you’d be confused. It was my fault anyway—I must’ve put the wrong house number on the order form.”

She steps into the office, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the room. Dark wood, high-tech monitors, and a wall of glass that overlooks the city. I can see the impression it’s making on her, the awe she’s trying to hide.

“Nice setup,” she says, clearly impressed. “What do you do?”

“Cybersecurity,” I reply, keeping my tone casual. I don’t give any more away than I need to.

I guide her to the desk, where the envelope sits neatly. “Here,” I say, gesturing to it. “Your photos.”

She looks down at the envelope, her fingers brushing over it for a moment before she picks it up, visibly relieved. I can sense her nerves, but there’s curiosity there, too.

“God, I had these horrible thoughts running through my head. Like some perv replaceing them and putting them all over the internet or something.”

I chuckle, leaning casually against the desk. “You’ve got nothing to worry about with me. But you’re right, there are plenty of sickos out there. Wouldn’t blame you for thinking the worst.”

She holds the envelope tight to her chest, pressing it against her breasts in a way that naturally draws my attention.

“Look,” I say, stepping back a little, “no need to rush. We may not have been able to choose the circumstances of our first meeting, but now that you’re here, how about a drink? We can at least be friendly neighbors.”

She hesitates for a moment but then nods. “Sure, why not.”

I pour her a glass of whiskey, watching as she takes it with a polite smile, barely sipping it once it’s in her hands.

I study her, taking in the way she moves, how she carries herself, especially in an uncomfortable situation like this. She’s fascinating. She’s different from most people I meet in a way that she has no idea.

And I want to see more.