The Christmas Fix
Page 17
“Thank you everyone for your donation to the Food Kitchen and enjoy your feast.” I swallowed the last of my egg-nog and then sat down.
Charlotte reached over, kissed me on the cheek and rubbed my cock below the table. “That was nice,” she said sweetly, “I’ll thank you properly later, darling. Ma Ma is taking the kids overnight.”
I groaned, then placed her hand back on top of my son’s head. “Keep touching me that way and I won’t be able to get up from this table.”
Charlotte giggled. “I know.”
The Next Morning
“REMEMBER THAT DAY YOU told me I had a sassy attitude and you were going to fuck it out of me?” Charlotte was making breakfast when I came up behind her, cupping her ass and smelling her sweet bed hair. What was it about that damn hair? It was like her superpower. Even when exhausted, the minute I thread my fingers through the thick silky tresses, all thoughts of what I was about to say disappeared. “Excuse me, what?”
“You were going to...you know, teach me a lesson.”
“I never said that.”
“Not those specific words, no. The other ones, yes.”
It took a lot for her to say the F word, especially now that we had kids. She harbored them like coins, as if she were saving those words in a special jar, doling them out one by one so I wouldn’t get too greedy. She knew that particular word made my cock itch. Just like the hair.
“I could not have said such a thing,” I tried, feigning innocence while I laughed into the salty skin of her neck. I bit her ear. She leaned back into me. “Oooh, I love that.”
“Yes, I know. It’s why I do it.”
“You did say that, Mr. Taylor. Don’t deny it.”
“The fucking your attitude clean? I guess I said something along those lines.”
“A little lower. Yeah. Oh yeah. Remember what I said to you after that?”
“Is this a test?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Of course not. Do you remember or not?”
“No. Not really.”
“I said it was wrong and that I didn’t do closet fucking with strange men.”
Shit! Talk about igniting every atom in my body.
I pulled her to me, slid my hand inside the softness of her robe. “Zac, I’m trying to cook here.”
“So am I.” I swiveled her around in a sort of pirouette, bodies gliding into the kitchen counter. The spatula waving in the air.
I shut off the stove.
It was still morning and you’d think we would have had enough of each other all night, but then there he was. Mr. Happy making his appearance before the eggs Benedict.
“You’re not making this easy, Zac. I was trying to make a point.”
“Ok, what is the point? Because my own point is trying to get into the conversation. Here...” I took her hand, slid it down my stomach until it reached to the bulge inside my pajama bottoms.
“Like that’s something new,” she said giggling. “The point is since I broke one of my rules for you, I want you to break one of your rules for me.”
“Baby, what are you talking about?”
“I want you to make up with Margo.”
“Not that again.” I backed up, released her hand. “ Listen, you’ve no idea how manipulative my mother is. She’ll make your life...our lives a living hell.”
“I have a plan,” she said with a devious look in her eye.
“I’m telling you sweetheart, its better she’s not in our lives because once she is....”
“The kids need their grandmother. Don’t you see?” Then she added, “One that lives in the same zip code, Zac.”
There was a knock on the front door indicating my kids were back. As much as I loved my kids, I was disappointed that Ma Ma was bringing them back so early. I had wanted a little more skin time with my wife. Charlotte opened the door while I stood there like an idiot staring. Again, no words came to mind.
Standing there was a dark-skinned woman I’d never seen before wearing a colorful caftan and a bright orange turban on her head. She was cradling my son. Beside her was Ma Ma and Margo holding the hand of my little girl.
“May I come in?” Margo asked, taking the lead. What could I say? She had my kid. I waved her forward into my spacious living room.
That evening, I learned that Charlotte’s mother and mine had become great friends over the course of the last month. They admitted to trading stories about lost loves, making it in a man’s business world and about how they fucked up with their children. Each of them vowed not to make the same mistakes with their grandchildren. My children. I wasn’t sure I believed a word of it, but I was willing to give Margo the benefit of the doubt.
For Charlotte.
For my kids.
Maybe just a tiny bit for me.
Shit! I’d been tricked.
Was it possible to fix a relationship built on lies and manipulation? Not always, but Christmas was right around the corner. Maybe the fix was in just for that reason.
The End
Thank you for reaching The Christmas Fix. If you liked the book, please leave a review on Amazon.com and or Bookbub.
Eager to hear the story of Chase and Abby?
Go here to read The Christmas Secret Book 1 in the Craving Christmas Story.
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