The Christmas Proposition

by K.A. Mitchell

He ran his thumbs along Fred’s jaw, drawing a deep happy sigh from the black snout. “Not always.”

  Fred backed off before he shook his head, ears thwapping, bells jangling. He stalked off to get a drink.

  “See?” Bryce nodded at Fred.

  I moved closer, putting my hand over his cold one where it rested on the rail. “I’m sure I was held as a baby. We probably have pictures somewhere. And at least my mom and dad were doing what they wanted when they died. So trauma, no.”

  He moved so our fingers laced together but that was all. “Before my mom got married, I asked her why she never married my dad.”

  I knew he couldn’t remember meeting his father, that he’d been out of their lives before Bryce was three. But he seemed happy when he talked about his stepdad.

  His hand tightened on mine as he turned to face me. “She said it was too important to get something like that wrong. If you can walk away and not look back it wasn’t worth it.”

  He was telling me something all right. But was he telling me this because it wasn’t going to be as easy to leave this time or warning me that things hadn’t changed much? I wasn’t sure which possibility scared me more.

  I freed my hand and wrapped both around his neck, pulling our foreheads together. “Your mom sounds like a smart woman.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed with a thin laugh as he kissed me.

  By the time Thursday rolled around, I was starting to think the wedding was going to come off all right. The weather held, though with a look at the sky I could tell we were in for something that afternoon, but whether it was rain, snow or ice would depend on the temperature. Tiff had been dropping off supplies, which took up most of our dining room, but she seemed calmer, so much so that I was no longer thinking of switching her ring tone to the theme from Psycho when she called right after noon.

  She didn’t bother with hello. “Mel, I need you to go down to BeesKnees Florist in Williamsport to pick up the flowers.”

  “I thought you were using the florist in town.”

  “They don’t have any red nerine lillies.” She was getting a little shrill. “They don’t have any nerine lillies.”

  I was way out of my depth. What if I came back with the wrong flowers? “And you can’t go?”

  “Because we’re already in Wilkes-Barre to pick people up at the airport.”

  Which was in a completely different direction, of course.

  She went on without a breath, “It’ll be a great way to try out the car Bryce bought you. The order is in my name.” She hung up. Not that I was going to argue, but she could have waited for an agreement. Bryce and I had been unloading some folding chairs on loan from a church. He came out of the barn. “Trouble?”

  “We’re going to Williamsport.”

  Cas told me we’d need the big cooler and to bring extra boxes to keep the flowers secure. I still wasn’t sure which vehicle to take. I knew my truck, knew how it handled in all kinds of weather. I wouldn’t say it had never skidded on me, but at least I knew it. I glanced at the sky.

  “Mel, it has four-wheel drive. It’s kind of the point to it.” Bryce was standing on the running board of the passenger side of the Range Rover, looking at me across the roof.

  “Okay.” But just to be safe, I grabbed my box of emergency stuff from the truck and put it in the back of the Rover next to the cooler.

  During the trip down, he showed off the features of a dashboard that reminded me of an airplane cockpit—not that I’d seen one outside of movies. Independent temperature control, cabin lights, satellite radio, he even set it to a metal station for me.

  “You can listen to your divas on the way back,” I offered. “Put a disco ball in here and we could handle the reception.”

  I might not have acquired the gay gene for flower arranging, but I knew gorgeous when I saw it. And Tiff’s bouquet was worth the trip. Various shades of red, with some berry type things cascading forward, it was going to look perfect in her hands. The florist assured me that the feathery things among the roses were the coveted nerine lillies and we packed to go. Corsages, bouquet, and the embellishments for the white material we were draping around the posts of the platform.

  We’d passed through a few bands of flurries and a little rain on the way down, but it started to snow like it meant it when we got back in the car. Two eighty-seven was the fastest way, but US fifteen had four lanes, though fifteen added over half an hour of driving time. Half an hour for the snow to get worse.

  “Direct route or better roads?” I said.

  “Put it in four-wheel drive when the snow starts to stick and go the way you want.”

  Two eighty-seven was more familiar, plus there were fewer trucks going to and from drilling sites. By the time we headed north, the snow blew against us in blinding sheets, reducing visibility to a few feet, no matter what adjustments I made to the lights. It was as good as night out now anyway. The Range Rover’s tires bit into the snow-covered road, though, taking us up the first mountain with ease. The road was blissfully empty, no other crazy people on a desperate quest for nerine lillies around.

  “You know not to break if we skid, right?”

  “You wanna drive? Like always?”

  Bryce was silent for a second. Then he whistled. “Is that the issue?”

  “What?” Maybe if I wasn’t concentrating on driving through eight-inches-an-hour snow, I would have been less literal. Though I had to admit, I was feeling a lot more confident in this comfy tank than I would have been in my truck. Not so much that I was speeding around corners, but at least I wasn’t crawling anymore.

  “Me driving. Metaphorically.”

  It still took me a second, then a flush hit my cheeks.

  “You want to fuck me, Mel?”

  “Not the time.” I muttered. Now all the blood was going rapidly downhill, along with the SUV. There was a nasty curve at the bottom of this slope, and as we hit it, the tires seemed to find nothing but ice under the snow to grab and we started a slide. Heart crashing into my throat, I tugged the wheel gently to line us up. A pull in the other direction, and we slewed away from the guard rail. We barely cleared it, but then the car careened even more out of control. I knew I wasn’t going to save it this time. I aimed for a break in the trees, the gentlest looking landing spot I could find and steered the skidding car toward it. We crashed through the brush, and I was glad there was enough deeper snow here to slow the momentum before we hit a pretty big oak right in front of us. I let my head drop onto the wheel.

  Oh God. I’d just crashed a ninety thousand dollar car that I’d had for less than three days. I didn’t even want to open my eyes.

  Bryce grabbed my arm hard enough to squeeze the blood from it. “Mel, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” I think I sounded as if I’d been drinking, my voice thin. Adrenaline was as good a drug as any. “How about you?”

  “Did you hit your head?”

  “No.” I still couldn’t look. “How’s the car?”

  “Fuck the car. Sit up.”

  He hauled me up and looked at my face, then let me go.

  “The airbags didn’t go off.”

  “Because you kept us from hitting anything. Nice job.”

  “I’m so sorry about the car.”

  “Jesus.” Bryce unbuckled his seatbelt and shoved open his door, letting in a blast of wind and flakes as he stepped out. He walked around the car, then climbed in. “The fucking car is fine. It’s built for this, like I said.”

  “Apparently not or we’d still be on the road.”

  “You think your truck wouldn’t have slid if we were going that fast?”

  “I wouldn’t have been going that fast in my truck.” Or if you hadn’t been talking about me topping you.

  “Four-wheel drive doesn’t mean fly.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  “Can you get us out?”

  I rocked it gently before trying to back out. We moved three inches, then I heard the tires spin.

/>   He got out. “Try it again.”

  “Stay back. I won’t be able to see you.” I wasn’t sure we weren’t better off here than on the road until it let up a bit, but I tried to reverse it again.

  He climbed back in. It might as well have been midnight. The light was gone and snow and wind shook even the Range Rover. I ran the heat for another minute before shutting off the engine. There was a blanket in my emergency box.

  I was hoping he’d say no, but still, “Do you want to try to get us out?”

  He shook his head. “I think we’re better off waiting.”

  “Could be awhile.”

  The last ticks of the engine faded away.

  “Should we call someone?” Bryce asked.

  “You can try.” I held up my phone to show I had no service. It was fifteen miles to the nearest intersection, a lot farther to an actual town.

  He checked his phone and put it away.

  The silence stretched for a moment. A leather-filled, plush, nicely-heated silence. I was so glad we weren’t in my truck.

  “So,” he turned to face me, “is that what you meant about me always driving?”

  I shrugged. It wasn’t that I was unhappy with the way we had sex. At all.

  “Because you never gave me any indication you wanted it another way.” Bryce leaned back against the door.

  “Look at me.” I knew I was on the pretty side for a guy. Had it pointed out to me with a lot of emphasis growing up in Epiphany. And not the way Bryce was gorgeous with his long lashes and full lips, but I had the coloring and the lighter bone structure that even at six feet I just looked—different. It was even worse when my hair was really short. Then I looked younger and pretty. “How many guys don’t think bottom when they look at me?”

  “That’s bullshit. You know what I thought when I saw you in that diner?”

  “If I blow him, do I still have to tip him?”

  Bryce gave me half a smile. “No, he looks like a fucking angel. I wonder if he’d fuck me.”

  “But—”

  He cut right through my argument. “You never acted like that was on the table, so I didn’t ask. And you know what else?” He leaned forward. “You love it. Not just a cock in your ass, but you love me taking charge.”

  “Because you don’t leave any room for anyone else to.”

  “Uh-huh. Face it. You’re such a control freak in life you love giving it up in bed.”

  I grabbed his jacket in a fist and dragged him across the console to kiss him. “I’ll show you a fucking control freak.”

  I shoved my seat back and climbed over the console. There was enough room on the bench seat. Crawling over the back seat, I snagged the blanket from the box.

  “You coming?” I said.

  “Here? Now? Are you serious?”

  I grabbed his hand and put it on my crotch. The adrenaline, the conversation and most of all the incredible possibility had me stubbornly, desperately hard.

  “Guess so.” He smiled and climbed back. It was a little less roomy than I’d thought, but I’d fucking make it work. I’d done it on the bench of my truck.

  “Someone could come by any minute. A cop, a tow truck.” He shed his jacket.

  I looked out the window. It was still dark, or maybe sunset had come and gone. The snow made everything invisible.

  He slid down along the seat so I could climb on top of him. I ground my dick against his while we made out like teenagers, no place else to go but the back seat of a car. His hands on my ass urged me to pump my hips into him and I did, my tongue reaming out his mouth.

  I worked a hand between us, got his jeans undone and his dick slapped into my palm. It felt better than anything I could imagine, him this hard, the tip wet, and all for me. For what I wanted to do to him.

  “Pretty big risk, Mel.” He panted against my neck as I stroked him. “Not like you.”

  “Shut up.” I shifted my weight to my knee and the foot on the floor to try to work his jeans down his legs. “Oh shit.”

  “What?”

  “Please tell me you’ve got your handy little supplies on you.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Keep hoping I can get you up in the hayloft. It’s a little fantasy of mine.”

  “Do you have any idea how prickly hay is?” I finally crouched to get his jeans down, then yanked off one boot and the jeans off one leg. “If you want to turn your ass into a pincushion, maybe, but I won’t be on the bottom. Speaking of…” I grinned. “Roll over.”

  I gave a little groan as he turned belly down on the blanket. I shoved my jeans out of the way and found what I needed in his jeans.

  “You might wish you’d packed extra lube,” I murmured in his ear as I slicked my fingers and the rubber I’d rolled down my dick.

  “You have done this before?” His voice sounded a little nervous.

  “Yup.”

  I used my finger to push what was left of the lube inside him and he gave a little gasp. The sound went right to my dick. Being half-dressed, going at it in the back seat and getting to fuck him for the first time was all conspiring to get me primed to go off like a rocket. I tugged at my balls and rubbed under his, finger inside and thumb outside putting pressure on his gland, until he was shoving himself back onto my hand.

  “Do it, c’mon, Mel. Just do it.”

  I didn’t want to just do it, however iconic the ad campaign had been. I wanted him to fall apart under me because my dick felt so good slamming into him.

  I brought up my second finger, but didn’t push it in, only rubbed against the muscle until I worried we’d passed the half-life on the lube. I lined my cock up to his hole, kneeling above him with his one leg braced on the floor and the other stretched out along the back. I rubbed and when I felt him pulse around me, I pushed in, both of us moaning. There was too much resistance and I backed out, gave him a few seconds, then tried again. This time when his muscle fluttered, I went all the way in.

  I’d been in more men than most people have ears, but I was going to go out on a limb and say Bryce had the tightest ass I’d ever fucked. Just holding still like that, Bryce’s deep breaths pulled on the skin of my cock, even through the condom. And when he groaned, I felt it, almost as if I was in his throat.

  “Let’s see what you got, angel.”

  I held his hips and started to fuck him, slow shallow strokes, rolling my hips to make more room for my dick.

  “Yeah.” He arched his back, hips slamming up to meet me.

  I held on, hauling him back toward my thighs. I could barely see the glitter of his eyes, the white of his teeth. It could have been anyone under me, but then he groaned my name and it wasn’t. It was Bryce-fucking-Campion sliding back on my dick. I lost my mind and just fucked the shit out of him.

  Things did blur for a bit. We were both loud because we could be, so I felt it, felt his ass get tighter then softer, right as he panted, “I’m coming. Oh, fuck.”

  I wanted to wait for him to finish, let him ride the wave for as long as he could, but my balls had their own selfish agenda. My hips slammed me forward again and again, all that heat and tightness on my dick and I was gone, emptying my balls into the rubber so hard I felt it up in my abs and the back of my head.

  We both winced as I pulled out of him, even though I was as slow and careful as I could manage.

  Bryce blew out a long breath. “That’s what you’ve been hiding behind your angelic blue eyes, huh?”

  I bit his shoulder. “Stop with the angel stuff.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just—I told you. I get enough of being called pretty.”

  “One time I was stuck in a hotel, really bored, sucky cable, no internet. I read some of the Bible. Angels are seriously bad ass.”

  “Nice try.”

  “How about if I only say it in bed?”

  That was a painful reminder that tomorrow was the wedding. Opportunities for Bryce to call me anything, in bed or out, were dwindling down to nothing. “Okay. It stopped snowing.�
��

  I got myself dressed again while Bryce was still looking for the boot I’d chucked away. Taking the condom with me, I climbed out the back door.

  We were on a fairly flat stretch of land, and the Range Rover had flattened the underbrush so it wasn’t hard to walk. The snow was pretty deep but on the road it had been warmer and I figured there was only about eight inches. If we could get the car back on the road, we could probably get home. Ignoring my ecology lectures, I tossed the condom into the woods.

  I opened the back. “Stay inside for a second.” It was dark, but I had a flashlight in my box. And anti-freeze, and a chain.

  I latched one end of the chain to the hook on the SUV’s frame and found a good tree about ten feet away to get the other end around. I’d never tried this before, but Mr. Morris down at the salvage yard swore it worked. Maybe on something like a Ford Fiesta, I thought as I looked back at the Range Rover.

  Offering an apology to any wildlife that might wander by before the anti-freeze washed away, I poured some around the tires to unlock them, then some more in the path I hoped the car would take. I snapped off some branches and laid them under the tires. Capping the jug, I opened the back door.

  “C’mon out.”

  Bryce looked at my work. “That’s a great idea, but what do you have for a winch?”

  “Us.”

  “Okay. Don’t take this wrong, but even if you were twice my size there’s no way the two of us can pull the car anywhere.”

  “C’mere and sit on the chain, but get ready to move if the car comes at you.”

  He looked at me warily.

  “It’s got the camera thing for backing up.” I said. “I’ll try not to run over you.”

  “That would be good, thanks.”

  When I turned the car and the camera on, I could see him eyeing the set up again.

  I rolled down my window. “Ready?”

  I thought he might have made a quick prayer. I put the car into low gear and put my foot over the accelerator, then Bryce plopped his weight on the chain.

  I felt it through the frame and touched the gas. There was a little leap but not enough. I stepped on the break again.

  “Bounce on the chain,” I yelled through the window.