A Very Marycliff Christmas

by Jerica MacMillan

  Layla turns his face to hers. “Don’t let them mess with your head, babe,” she murmurs quietly. “I love you, and I wouldn’t give you back to him even if he wanted you.”

  “That’s right you wouldn’t,” he grumbles back before kissing her.

  “Hey!” Matt yells from behind us. “Quit sucking face on the couch. Hannah’s coming around with numbers for the order of the exchange.”

  Hannah approaches each of us in turn, holding out a small red bucket covered in candy canes holding the numbered slips of paper. She takes the last slip for herself as she explains the rules of picking and stealing. “Alright, who’s number one?”

  Layla scoots forward on the couch, holding up her hand. “I am.”

  Evan slaps her ass as she stands, and she tosses a glare at him over her shoulder before approaching the tree and selecting a gift.

  The exchange starts out sedate, Layla, Megan, and Abby all selecting gifts from under the tree rather than stealing. But then it’s Lance’s turn, and he steals Megan’s gift. Just to steal it, because I’m pretty sure he’s not that interested in a fuzzy blanket, warm vanilla sugar body spray, and a candle from Bath & Body Works.

  After that, it’s on. Megan steals Layla’s present, who steals Abby’s present, who steals Lance’s present. So Lance picks a gift that Chris then steals on his turn. By the time it’s over and the wrapping paper settles, I think everything has been stolen at least once, but we’ve all been laughing and cheering and giving each other shit. Between the freely flowing alcohol and the generally happy vibes inspired by the season and a party, everyone has a good time, including Layla, who seems to climb out of her shell more and more as time passes, settling into conversation with Megan and Elena, while Hannah and Abby chat in the kitchen. Evan is surprisingly deep in conversation with Matt and Lance. Evan wasn’t Matt’s biggest fan for a while, but it seems that’s all water under the bridge, thankfully. Three years with the love of his life helps a guy get over feeling like someone else “stole” a girl from him, I guess.

  Chris wanders into the kitchen, and I decide to take the chance to approach him about an idea that I’ve been kicking around since I learned he was coming for the retirement party this weekend.

  Sliding to my feet, I head to the kitchen as well, making a show of getting a slice of the chocolate chip pie Elena made so it doesn’t seem so much like I came in here just to corner Chris. Our eyes meet, and he jerks his chin in a nod. “How’s it going, man? You’re coaching football these days, right?”

  I nod, quickly swallowing the bite of pie I’d already stuffed in my mouth. “Yup. Over at East Valley. We had a pretty good team this last year. Almost made it to state.”

  “That’s great,” Chris says, taking a sip of his beer. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” Silence stretches between us. Is now a good time to ask for what I want? Or is he going to get mad and feel like I’m trying to take advantage of him. He seems largely unaware or at least uncaring of my presence as he stands staring at his beer bottle and picking at the label. It occurs to me that Elena’s assessment is correct. He’s hurt and frustrated and doesn’t know what to do with himself.

  “Hey,” I start, my voice coming out louder than I meant it to because of my nerves, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

  When he raises his eyes to mine, wariness lurks behind the polite facade. But he nods and says, “Sure. What’s up?”

  Clearing my throat, I decide that ripping off the Band-Aid, so to speak, is the best approach. “I was, uh, I was wondering if you might have time to put on a clinic for my team. Maybe at the end of the school year, before you start your preseason training.”

  “Oh, uh, hmm.” He looks at a point over my shoulder and rubs his jaw, then passes his hand to his hurt shoulder, giving it a squeeze before finally swallowing hard and nodding, his eyes finding mine. “Yeah. I could probably make that happen. What kind of clinic are you thinking? And how many days? Do you want just me, or do you want me to see if I can get any of my teammates to come over for it too?”

  It’s my turn to stammer. “Oh, uhhh … sure? I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about all the specifics. I wasn’t even sure if you’d say yes.”

  He laughs, a low, easy sound, shaking his head. “Of course, man. I’m happy to help a friend out like that. And working with kids is fun.” He shrugs, looking down and picking at the label of his beer bottle again. “Hell, depending on what happens with my shoulder, that might be my future too.”

  My eyebrows wrinkle at that quietly delivered statement. “It’s that bad?”

  He glances up, but looks away again and takes a sip of his beer. “Yeah,” he rasps at last. “Might be. They still can’t decide if I need surgery or not. And I fucked up and went too hard on the strengthening exercises, so my therapist had to knock me back a few pegs. This weekend is all rest and stretching, and we’ll reevaluate when I get back to Seattle.” He holds up the beer bottle and gives it a little shake. “I shouldn’t even really be having this, but what’s the point of life if you can’t drink a beer with your friends at a Christmas party?” Finishing the bottle, he shakes his head. “Fuck. Sorry. I’m shit for company right now. I’ve been doing my best to keep it together, but …”

  I hold up a hand. “No need to apologize to me. You just agreed to do me a huge favor. So I’m in no position to criticize.”

  He barks out a laugh, and his face relaxes into its usual lines. Chris was always laughing and joking when I knew him. Sure, he could be serious when the situation called for it, but he was never an asshole or generally grumpy. So his behavior tonight is uncharacteristic, as far as I’m aware, and it’s good to see him returning to his normal self.

  “Email me some dates and ideas for what you want. I’ll run it by a few other guys, and we’ll see what we can put together, alright?”

  “Sounds good, man. Thanks.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Elena

  My head still pleasantly buzzing from tonight’s drinks, I climb out of the car in my driveway. I can’t wait to get inside and alone with my man.

  Layla and Evan seem to have a similar idea if the way they sat practically on top of each other in the back seat on the way home is any indication. When they got in the car, he pulled her into the middle seat and insisted she sit there, one arm around her and his other hand with a possessive grip on her thigh. I heard more than one gasp and giggle from Layla, plus a hushed, “Shh!” and, “Stop it!”

  It’s so cute that she thinks either of us care or don’t already expect them to fuck while they’re here. Having houseguests isn’t going to stop me from getting some. I shouldn’t think being a houseguest ought to make a difference either. I mean, it’s not like we’re their parents.

  Don’t run around the house naked or spooge on our nice things, and we’re good.

  Once inside, I make a show of stretching and yawning as I hang up my coat and set my purse on the console table by the door. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat. Daniel?”

  His dark eyes glinting in his cute face, he takes the hand I’ve extended to him after leaving his keys in the bowl on the table. “Oh, yeah. Totally wiped out.” He at least has the decency to spare a glance for Evan and Layla. “Help yourself to anything you need from the kitchen, guys. We’ll see you in the morning.” And then he leads me to our bedroom on the opposite side of the house from the guest room.

  “Thanks, guys,” Evan says, his voice vibrating from restrained laughter. “I think we’re heading to bed, too.”

  “Mmhmm,” I say, not even trying to disguise what we all know “going to bed” really means right now. “You two have fun.”

  Layla’s muffled giggle follows me into my bedroom as well as a muffled, “You too!” from Evan as Daniel firmly closes the door.

  He stares at it for a minute. “Part of me wishes there were a way to lock this just to make sure he doesn’t try to fuck with us.”

  I snort-snicker. �
�I didn’t know Evan was into group sex. Kinky.”

  Daniel glares at me, but the irrepressible smile on his lips belies his annoyance. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  Stepping closer to him, I layer my arms over his shoulders and around his neck. “They’re going to be too busy having their own fun to interrupt ours,” I say softly, then pull his face to mine for a kiss.

  As soon as his lips touch mine, his tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me like I’ve been dying for all night. Hanging with friends is fun, and I had a great time, but we’ve both been so busy this semester that we’ve barely had time alone. I finished my last final today, and while I’m still expected in the office where I’m interning this year over Christmas break, I’ll have a little more free time for a few weeks. And once Daniel’s on break too, it’ll be even better.

  One of the perks of being with a teacher when I’m still in school is that our downtimes so closely align. Not that there’s ever really downtime in law school. Breaks are consumed by internships and resume builders designed to make you stand out from your classmates so you can land a job once you graduate and pass the bar. And passing the bar is a whole other thing all by itself. For most people, graduation means they can ease up on studying. But for aspiring lawyers? Nope. You have to study even more so you can pass the test and then stay on pins and needles for months while you wait for the results.

  But all of those worries and stressors and aggravations can wait for another day. Another time.

  Because right now, Daniel’s lips are skating down my throat, and his hands are pushing their way into my jeans, and I can’t wait to feel him inside me.

  He growls softly against my skin, and I live for these sounds, these reactions from him. “I love you,” I whisper as he undoes the button and zipper on my jeans and shoves them below my ass.

  “I love you too,” he says back, kissing me deeply again as his fingers slide between my thighs. “I love how wet you always are for me,” he whispers against my lips before claiming them again as he pets me from opening to clit and back again in slow, measured strokes.

  Squirming under his attention, I shove my jeans down more so I can step my feet wider, giving him more access. “I want you,” I tell him, breathless.

  He grunts, a sound of pure male satisfaction. “Good. Because I always want you.”

  Stepping back, he leaves me bereft, but I recover quickly when he nods at the bed and starts removing his clothes, revealing his dark brown skin covering a beautiful six pack. He still works out just like he did when he played football, and I love his dedication. He’s even put together a training program for me that fits into my crazy schedule and makes it so I can keep baking pies without worrying I’ll end up weighing four hundred pounds.

  I shimmy out of my clothes and climb on the bed, my eyes never leaving the show he’s giving me. No, he’s not doing a striptease or anything, but I always love watching him undress for me, the way he watches me watch him, my own hunger reflected back in his eyes. Our start was a little rocky, a little unorthodox, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything since now I get this man in my bed every night.

  “Dessert tonight was good,” he tells me as he climbs onto the bed with me, one hand hooking my ankle and tugging me flat on my back. “But I won’t be satisfied until I get a taste of this sweet pussy.”

  I pull my hands behind my head, grabbing the pillow in anticipation, and spread my legs for him.

  He runs a hand up my inner thigh and lets out an appreciative noise. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he says as he rubs my pussy with the flat of his hand before dipping his head and licking me from opening to clit, just like he was stroking me with his finger a moment ago.

  I squirm and buck under his attention, and he bars one arm across my hips to hold me in place. I love it when he holds me down and forces me to take what he wants to give me, and he knows it.

  The fingers of his other hand hold me open for the onslaught of his tongue. Then he raises his head, watching me as he turns his hand palm up and slides his two middle fingers inside me, stroking my inner walls until he finds the spot that sends an electric zap through me. He grins, the smile of a man satisfied with his own prowess. “Yeah, that’s the spot,” he says, stroking it gently at first, then getting firmer as I jolt and buck against him, craving even more.

  He lowers his head again, continuing to fuck me with his fingers as he sucks on my clit, and I come in a blaze of white light, heat pouring through my veins, and he doesn’t let up at all, prolonging the ecstasy until the wave breaks and crashes on the shore.

  Only then does he gently lick my clit one last time and slowly withdraw his hand, that same smile of male satisfaction on his face. “And that’s how I take care of you,” he says as he layers his body over mine, the head of his cock notching just inside my entrance.

  But I want him stretching me, causing the aftershocks that always come when he fucks me after he makes me orgasm like that and then often makes me orgasm again. “Mmm,” I moan as just the tip slides in and out of me. “You’re such a tease.”

  He chuckles, then drives his hips forward in one firm thrust, seating himself fully. I arch involuntarily, the breath driven out of me in a gasp, and my legs curling up to clamp around his hips.

  “That better?” he asks in a voice that would sound menacing if I didn’t know he loved me absolutely and without reservation.

  “Much.”

  He starts off slow, rocking his hips into me, his lips fused to mine, his tongue in my mouth, and I know it’s because even this much friction is causing my legs to jerk and twitch as he drags his cock in and out of me. He’s taking his sweet time, giving me a moment to recover as much as possible while he fucks me slow and deep so that he can send me flying again.

  “You are almost too much,” I whisper when he trails his lips to my jaw, down my throat, curling over me so he can play with my nipples.

  His dark eyes meet mine. “And you love it.”

  I nod enthusiastically, writhing under his attention. “I do. I absolutely do.”

  He pinches one nipple while his tongue toys with the other, then he switches, paying equal attention to the other side. Sitting back on his heels, his hands fall to my hips, and he pulls me up onto his lap, holding me in place while his tempo increases. One of his hands covers my mound, his thumb dipping down to circle my clit, his eyes glued to where we’re joined.

  And the avid lust on his face is so fucking hot, it’s almost enough make me come all by itself.

  His hips move faster, his thumb now scrubbing back and forth over my clit the way he knows will take me there a second time, and his eyes clash with mine. “I love you,” he says, his voice low and hoarse with need. “I fucking love you so much. Come for me again, baby. I want to feel you strangling my dick with your tight little pussy.” His hips snapping harder, his thumb never stopping, he urges me on with filthy words that drive me crazy in the best way.

  And then it happens. The coil that’s been ratcheting tighter and tighter low in my belly releases with a snap. My limbs convulse, and I clamp down on him in rhythmic pulses. Groaning, he stretches out over me again to give himself better leverage, riding me hard through my orgasm and into his own.

  When he collapses on top of me in a gorgeous, sweaty heap, I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him close. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper.

  He lifts his head and gives me a gentle kiss. “I’ve missed you too. Only two more weeks, and I’m on break, and we can relax more.”

  I give him a cocky grin. “Like this?”

  Chuckling, he withdraws and grabs a washcloth from the pile we keep by the bed just for this purpose. “Yeah, babe. Just like this.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Abby

  Lance lets out a heavy sigh when we get into our place and pulls out his phone.

  After hanging up my coat, I turn to him with a concerned look. “Everything alright? Is something wrong with one of your clien
ts?”

  He shakes his head and shoves his phone back in his pocket before taking off his jacket and hanging it up as well, then he pulls me in close and wraps his arms around my waist. “No, my clients are all fine as far as I know. It’s, uh …”

  Disengaging, he wraps a hand behind his neck and gives it a squeeze as he paces the length of the living room. “Matt talked to me tonight.”

  I sink onto the couch and pull a throw pillow into my lap, torn between amusement and apprehension. I mean, of course he talked to Matt. We were at Matt’s house. They’re friends. But the way he’s acting means it was something serious. “Is he okay? Or Hannah? Are they both okay?”

  Lance glances at me with a quick, reassuring grin. “No, no, everyone’s fine. No one’s sick or pregnant or in trouble.” His mention of pregnancy sends a spike of adrenaline through me, because that statement isn’t actually true. Megan’s pregnant. But Lance doesn’t know that yet.

  Has she told Chris? Since neither of them mentioned it tonight, I kinda don’t think so. Which seems strange to me. I figured she would’ve told him at the first opportunity. I know she wanted to wait to tell him in person, but he’s here now, so …

  But Lance keeps talking, and I have to leave Megan and her issues for later. She’ll tell Chris when she’s ready, after all. Maybe he passed out as soon as they got to the hotel. And I can understand not wanting to tell him in the car.

  “Um, well, so …” Lance stammers. “Matt.”

  I have to fight back a grin, because this level of hemming and hawing isn’t at all like Lance. And the fact that he’s so discombobulated is reassuring in and of itself—when there’s bad news, he just spits it out and helps clean up the consequences.

  “Yes. Matt. What did Matt talk to you about?”

  He finally squares his shoulders and meets my eyes, turning back into the direct and confident man I know and love. “He offered me a job.”