Special Delivery: Winter: An Mpreg Romance Collection

by Aria Grace

  “David?” Mac snapped his fingers at me. “What’s going on? Did you bump your head?”

  I staggered backward, eyes drifting left and right. “No. Why?”

  Mom peered at me and moved a finger one way and then the other. “Doesn’t appear to have concussion.”

  Sarah sniggered and I glared at her.

  “You’re drooling,” Mac observed as he stuck his face in front of mine.

  “Am not.” I elbowed him out of the way.

  “Are too.”

  “It’s the food,” I huffed as I rubbed a hand over my face and wondered if Ian had suffered a bad break up or he hadn’t been in love in a while, and that was the reason my family were pushing us together. Or perhaps they wanted me to find love.

  “Let’s get going. You, me and Ian are heading to the car.” Mac was the only one who seemed oblivious to what was going on and was looking forward to getting his hands on the rental.

  We walked through the snow, Mac in the middle, me on one side, Ian on the other as Ian chatted with my brother. We found the car easily and after shoving his head under the hood and fiddling with whatever he found under there, Mac decided he couldn’t fix it. I grabbed my case, we pushed the car off the road and walked back to the farm house.

  Mom insisted everything was in hand and she had a pot of soup simmering on the stove for lunch. We sat around the huge wooden farmhouse table, slurping our soup while Mac and Sarah kicked one another. It was their thing. I kept my eyes down, avoiding looking at Ian. I didn’t want to give my family any excuse to tease me.

  Gran and Uncle Saul called saying the road was open and they’d arrive soon, though the rental company messaged they wouldn’t make it til the following day.

  “Are we going to open our presents that we didn’t do last night because David got lost?” Mac asked. Our immediate family did the gift unwrapping Christmas Eve and when everyone else joined us on the big day, we did the rest.

  Poor Ian. We didn’t have anything for him. One item I had to get him after the holidays was a new coat and sweatshirt. But maybe I could have Mom and Dad give it to him. It was kinda personal handing over items of clothing to a guy I barely knew, though I’d been wearing his gear since last night, so maybe it didn’t matter.

  But as everyone cleaned up after lunch, Sarah drew my attention to a present wrapped in blue paper under the tree with a name tag that read ‘Ian’.

  6. Ian

  David’s grandmother and uncle were on their way so the family gathered around the tree to do their ritual gift unwrapping before they did the second shift later. I hung back but Viv dragged me forward. “I don’t have any presents to give.”

  “Sure you do.” She pointed out the two similar boxes under the tree. I’d given my employers small gifts a few days ago, not expecting to see them until after the holidays, unless we bumped into one another while I was feeding the goats.

  My presents to them were two coffee mugs. One that read, ‘Whatever floats your goat’ and the other ‘I goat this.’ But I had nothing for anyone else. Perhaps my rib roast counted as a family present.

  There were oohs and ahhhs and squeals as the gift giving progressed and the floor was strewn with colorful wrapping paper and ribbon. “And this one is for Ian.” Rob handed me an A4 sized gift.

  “Open it,” everyone urged.

  “Wow!” It was a photo of me on one knee, surrounded by the goats. Gertie was giving me a ‘kiss’. “That’s adorable.”

  “I remember that day. She’d taken a bite of my jeans.” David was sitting on the floor near the tree and as I spoke, his hand slid over his ass. “Thank you. I’ll treasure this.”

  There were more hugs and kisses and presents placed under the tree when David’s grandmother and uncle arrived. David’s gran sipped a sherry and told stories of when Rob was a kid, and Viv and Rob assigned everyone else a job.

  David and I had to set the table. Seemed easy enough. The kitchen was bustling, everyone chatting, pots simmering, people mixing, mashing and beating things while the huge oven worked overtime.

  Everything we needed was on a sideboard. Plates, napkins, serving spoons and ladles, a crisp white tablecloth, cutlery, plates, wine and water glasses plus candles. “What are these?” I pointed to a box of colorful paper cylinders cinched at either end, which sort of looked like huge wrapped candies.

  “Bon bons, or Christmas crackers. Gran’s family always had them at Christmas and so we’ve continued the tradition. They’re hard to find. I think mum orders them online. We each get one and you pull it with someone else at the table. It makes a loud snap, and there’s a joke, a silly paper crown and a little trinket inside,” David informed me.

  “Okay, where do we start?”

  “Right here,” Mac barged over and handed us each a glass of wine.”

  David and I went around the table putting out eight place mats, while adding the glasses and napkins, but we were going in opposite directions, and kept bumping into one another in the middle. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he giggled.

  It was cute and I joined in and laughed too. “We need a plan.”

  “I go one way and you the other?” he suggested.

  “I think that’s what got us into trouble in the first place,” I told him.

  David closed one eye and mumbled but the only word I caught was “trouble.”

  “How about this? I start and you follow.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll do the plates,” I suggested.

  “And I’ve got the bon bons.”

  But the plates were much heavier than the Christmas crackers and I couldn’t carry them all at once so David bumped into me, his hips slapping onto my ass.

  “Oops. Sorry.”

  “Perhaps the plan needs a rethink,” I said.

  He caught my eye and we both chortled. It did occur to me that drinking wine paired with setting the table and putting out breakable plates was not a smart move, but the house was warm, amazing smells were coming from the kitchen, and Christmas music was blasting from someone’s phone. If we couldn’t let loose a little on Christmas day, when could we?

  In the end we divvied up the duties. I held the plates and he put them on the table. I’m sure we would have accomplished the chore much sooner if we hadn’t been taking the occasional sip of wine.

  “We make a great team,” David commented as he picked up a bon bon that’d fallen on the floor. It was then I paid attention to his jeans with a small rip on the backside. Was that Gertie? Viv had asked us to shower and change for dinner but David hadn’t gotten around to it and of course, I still wore what I’d put on this morning.

  “Hey, you pair of geniuses! Sarah called out as she poked her head out of the kitchen.”

  “We are rather smart, sis. We’ll have the table set lickety-split.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Look carefully. You’ve forgotten something?” Sarah pointed out.

  “I think we know how to ready the table for dinner,” David replied.

  “Duh. Tablecloth, bro.”

  David glanced at me and we fell against one another as we chuckled. My arms crept around him as he looked up at me through a fringe of dark lashes. He smacked a palm on his forehead. “Okay, we’re idiots.”

  “You said it, not me,” his sister responded as she went back to her cooking duties.

  “Perhaps we need more wine,” David suggested.

  “Definitely.” I topped up our glasses.

  “We need to start again.”

  Luckily, David’s gran took over and she made Uncle Saul help while David and I were sent to shower and clean up. The farmhouse was huge, and we wandered along the corridor until we discovered the room that had been assigned to him. I’d been given someone’s jeans, shirt and sweater to wear.

  “You first,” he said as he pointed to the adjoining bathroom.

  “No after you,” I objected.

  David flopped back on the bed, his hands behind his head. “I’m waiting for
you.”

  The warm shower was welcome after a sleepless night, but my mind was on David, and I slid one hand to my cock. It would be wrong to jerk off in my employer’s home, while the object of my desire was just outside the door, humming, having drunk too much wine.

  Water streamed over me as my dick swelled. An image of David joining me and bending over as he dropped the soap popped into my head unannounced. But a voice in the distance yelling had me pause. Bad idea, Ian.

  David hadn’t moved when I entered the room. “Your turn,” I told him.

  I went back into the living room to give him privacy and think about my obvious attraction to him. He was my employer’s son and here only for a week or so. Sleeping with him was a bad idea and perhaps my vision was colored by the amount of wine I’d consumed. Besides, perhaps he wasn’t turned on by me. I let it go and didn’t glance up when he made it back into the dining room, the first time I’d seen him wearing his own clothes.

  The table groaned with food as we sat down for Christmas dinner. Turkey with all the trimmings, my rib roast, ham, potatoes, green beans, mushroom something, pasta salad, sweet potatoes, even Brussel sprouts which weren’t my favorite but roasted with bacon, they were more than okay.

  “Time to pull the bon bons, everyone,” Rob announced.

  ‘Is there a rule as who you pull it with?” I asked, confused about the etiquette.

  “Nope. You can cross your arms and pull one with each person on either side. Or just choose one.”

  That was David.

  7. David

  “Grab one end tightly,” I said as he took the other. All eyes were on us and we gripped the sparkly paper and tugged hard. There was a massive snap, and he jumped. Everyone laughed. Things tumbled out. “You must wear the crown,” Viv explained. “That’s a hard and fast rule.”

  It was way too big and slid over Ian’s eye. “That’s normal,“ I told him. “It’s either too big or too small.” I adjusted it so he could see, my hand resting on his head a few seconds longer than was necessary. The gift inside was a ring and he read out the riddle that came with it. They were always so lame. “But that’s part of fun,” I explained to Ian who appeared mystified about our holiday custom.

  And then everyone else did the same and the table became a riot of bangs, shouts and people telling their jokes.

  Sitting next to Ian was distracting but I focused on the ambiance of being with my loved ones during the holidays, the noise and the laughter as Dad poured wine for everyone.

  “Merry Christmas.” We raised our glasses.

  After stuffing ourselves, and declaring it the best Christmas dinner we’d ever eaten, we helped ourselves to desserts from the sideboard. Ian and I both made to grab the same serving spoon. “You like trifle too, huh?” he asked as my hand grasped his.

  “Mmmm. My favorite,” I replied. “Go ahead.”

  He put a spoonful on his plate and then stuck his finger in his serving. “Yum”

  You said it. My head spun and heat crept over my cheeks as my gaze lingered on his finger sliding between his lips. “Yum.”

  The finger in his mouth froze and he glanced sideways at the rest of the family who were at the table. He lowered his voice and said, “We share a love of trifle.”

  “Mmmm,” I agreed. “And the cream on your lips is rather fetching.”

  His tongue poked out between his lips and licked around his mouth. “All gone?”

  “Nope, still there,” I lied.

  “Now?”

  I tapped my bottom lip. “Just a tiny drop left.”

  He pursed his lips and placed a hand under my elbow. “Are you sure, David?”

  “Oh, yes.” I plastered an innocent expression on my face. “Very.”

  He studied me with a piercing scrutiny before handing me a napkin. “Perhaps you should help me.” He placed the linen napkin in my hand. Warm skin on mine pressing the fabric onto my palm. Time slowed as I studied the sprinkle of freckles on his cheeks and his breathing slowed.

  I dabbed around his lips, pretending I was removing a tiny morsel of cream. “All done?” he asked. I nodded.

  “What are you two doing?” Mac complained. “Hurry up and finish eating. I have to whip your ass at Monopoly.”

  Ian and I shared another glance before sitting down.

  “David? Your plate’s empty. Did you scoff down your dessert already?”

  I scurried back to the sideboard and took a helping from each dish then stuffed my face with cake, cream, fruit and all things chocolate. “Yum,” I said as all eyes at the table were on me. Ian’s hand froze, halfway to his mouth, as I repeated the word from earlier.

  After clearing the table, putting away leftovers, loading the dishwasher, and helping to wash the rest of the dishes, we’d gathered around the tree for Uncle Saul’s singalong he hadn’t got to do last night. There was much praise and enthusiastic clapping, and then Gran insisted on watching Christmas carols on TV.

  By now, Dad was snoozing and Mom was concentrating on a knitting pattern. Mac hauled out the Monopoly board. He rubbed his hands together. “Ready?”

  “I want to be the racing car,” Sarah declared. It was always the most popular choice and when we were kids we’d fight over it.

  “Fine,” Mac and I agreed, though if we wanted to make our sister play badly, we would have refused. That was one of our tactics.

  “I hope you’ll join us, Ian,” Sarah told our guest.

  “Sure.”

  “Four players is perfect,” I said.

  “Prepare to lose all your money and for me to be the worst landlord ever,” Mac declared.

  “I’m so scared,” I fake shivered and winked at Ian. “Wait til your ass is in jail and I buy out every property and you come out a pauper!” I rubbed my hands together as my brother’s eyes blazed. He was anticipating victory but it’d never happen. “You are going down, Mac!”

  “Being in jail isn’t always a bad thing,” he jeered. He was right about that. Another of our tactics.

  Sarah leaned over to Ian. “They don’t mess around when it comes to this game. Hope you’re ready for it. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “Sounds as though they’ve developed a formula for winning.”

  Being by Ian’s side, enjoying family time, my stomach full to the brim with delicious food and drink had me overflowing with holiday cheer. I was going to create a housing shortage by buying as many houses as I could. My attention wavered between wanting to impress Ian and beating Mac.

  Ian cheered when he landed on a railroad and bought it. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d never make much money from it, though I supposed it was better than buying one of the utilities. When he landed on one of the cheaper properties and was undecided, Mac’s eyes grew wide sensing an opportunity.

  I brushed my leg against Ian’s, hoping he’d get the message he should buy. Seemed he got a message but not the one I was trying to convey. He stammered and blushed which was adorable and almost made me lose focus on the game.

  Mom saved us by yelling, “Buy it, Ian.”

  “Mom, you’re not supposed to help,” Mac complained.

  “Oh come on. Poor Ian’s playing with you two sharks. No make that piraña.”

  Sarah gave up and fell asleep on the couch and Ian had bowed out but stayed at my side, and when I finally pushed Mac into bankruptcy, Ian and I let up a cheer. But when I glanced around, everyone else had disappeared.

  “They went to bed,” Mac yawned. “Mom put a blow up mattress on the floor in your room for Ian. Night. Good game, bro.”

  Ian in my bedroom all night. I glanced at the time. Two A.M. Well, what was left of the night. But nothing could or would happen, even if he was agreeable. With Mac and Uncle Saul in the room next to mine, and Sarah and Gran on the side, it would be us chatting, if that.

  “You know what I want?” I said to Ian who was putting away the Monopoly houses.

  He raised a brow.

  “Trifle.”


  His eyes widened.

  “We can share a helping.”

  And so we ended Christmas Day at our wooden table, dipping spoons into a glass dish and shoveling cream, berries and fruit soaked in sherry into our mouths.

  “You got cream right here.” Ian tapped his lower lip.

  But I wasn’t falling for my own trick. ”Yeah, right. Don’t believe you, sorry.”

  His spoon clattered into the dish and his lips were on mine. We’d done this before, only this morning, with my family egging us on. The sweetness of fruit and glossy cream combined with wine and Ian’s unique taste.

  And this time, it wasn’t a polite joining together, dictated by tradition. There were groans and the nibbling of lips, teeth on soft flesh and finally a tongue pushing into my mouth and curling around my own tongue.

  Ian’s hand was on the back of my neck, his fingers in my hair. I scooted my chair closer and Ian parted his knees allowing me to push myself between his legs.

  8. Ian

  Everyone had a late start the following morning, apart from Rob who’d set his alarm as the goats needed feeding. Eating and drinking too much at Christmas was tradition, and there were a few sore heads.

  I’d woken long before David and because I was on the floor, I couldn’t see if he was awake. Every time he rolled over or made a sound, I pretended to be asleep. Not because I didn’t want to talk to him—I did. But I didn’t wish to spoil the mood from last night.

  We’d kissed but an unspoken agreement had us going no further. Everyone might have been asleep but we were surrounded by three generations of his family.

  As I lay on the blow up mattress, the ringing of David’s phone had him grunting before he finally answered. Based on what I overheard, the rental company was coming and he agreed to meet them at the car. It was time for me to head home. “I’ll walk you as far as my place. I think you can find the car from there, right?”

  “Sure,” he nodded, his eyes lighting up.”

  Is that what I think it was? Was he contemplating alone time? Maybe.