Last Gift
Jen Frederick
Jessica Clare
~~ * ~~
To our fans – happy holidays!
Daisy
NICK WATCHES THE CARS HEADING down the side street of our apartment building. It’s unusually busy, and I can tell it’s making him tense. It’s evident in the stiff set of his shoulders, and the way he ever so gently bends down the mini-blind so he can peer out on the snowy streets, unnoticed. When his hand brushes at his waist as if looking for his gun, I realize just how on edge he is.
I lick my fingers and put aside the Christmas cookie batter I’m making, and move to his side. “Nikolai,” I say softly. “What is it?”
He looks over at me, beautiful eyes dark with worry. “It is nothing, Daisy.”
But I know it’s not nothing. Every inch of his body is telling me that it is something. So I move to his side and peer out the window, trying to see what he sees. There are cars in the street, moving slow, but it’s to be expected. In the distance, there are Christmas lights covering every inch of the nearby buildings, all sparkling and pretty. I see nothing unusual, but I am not an assassin, so perhaps I am missing something. I turn to Nick. “What is it?” I repeat.
He nods at the window. “Many cars. They slow on this street. They watch something.”
I blink for a moment, and then laugh. “Of course they watch something. They’re slowing down to look at the Christmas lights.” I point at the nearby buildings, festooned with green and red and white lighting. There’s even an animatronic nativity that I passed by. It’s garish, but still impressive. “I imagine it’s parents taking their kids out to see the decorations.”
His shoulders relax a little. “Da? Is tradition?”
I nod firmly and link my arms around his waist. “Tradition. Nothing to be worried about.”
His breath exhales slowly, and his hands rub my back. “I still think like hitman.”
He does. I imagine it’ll take time for that to work out of his system. My Nick needs a distraction. “Do you want to get in the car and go drive past the lights?” Nick gives me such a disgruntled look that I laugh despite myself. “That must be a no.” I snuggle against him, loving the slow, possessive feel of his touch as his fingers skate down my back. “What Christmas traditions do you have?”
“I do not celebrate.”
This surprises me. I pull back and look up at him, puzzled. “Not at all?”
He shrugs. “You forget my upbringing.”
I do. My face immediately softens in memory. My poor Nick, brought up since childhood by the Bratva, raised to be a killer. Any kindness or softness he might have known before me was all an act, something he paid someone to do for him. The Bratva trained him to be an assassin; they did not train him to be a normal man.
I was foolish to ask. How could I not know the answer? It’s there in the way his hands have tightened around me. He realizes he is missing a vital part of a normal life, and it bothers him. It is another missing puzzle piece, and he wants to be whole for me.
I feel cruel for asking. I will distract him, instead. I am good at distracting. “I think we should get some mistletoe for our apartment.”
“Da?” His voice is musing, almost playful, and it makes me feel achy with need. I love it when Nick is playful. “You wish to hide underneath and surprise me with kisses?”
“Parts of you with kisses,” I agree breathlessly, and my fingers go to his belt. He stiffens again, but when I go down on my knees, his fingers caress my jaw with such love that I ache inside. I unbuckle his belt and pull it free, and by the time I tug down his zipper, he’s erect underneath his jeans and hard at what I’m suggesting.
I slide his clothes down his thighs and his cock pushes free, firm and beautiful and inches from my face. I am learning what pleases Nick as we live together. We practice a lot, I think with a smile, and I’m getting better at driving him crazy. I don’t reach immediately for his cock. Instead, my hands stroke back and forth on the thick muscles of his thighs, and I watch his cock jerk in response to my touch. There is a drop of pre-cum beading on the head, and I want to taste it.
I will, but not yet.
Nick’s hands are moving over my face, my jaw, my hair, frantically touching me but not wanting to interrupt what I’m offering. I know he loves this; it’s because he loves it so much that it gives me such great pleasure to do. I love pleasing Nick. I love seeing his face when my mouth is on him. This angle will make it almost impossible to watch his expression, but I will picture it instead.
Slowly, gently, I move my massaging hands up his thighs and curl them around his heavy balls. He groans as my fingers stroke them, and I feel his body twitch again. When another drop appears on the head of his cock, I lean in and lick both of them up, not wanting to lose that precious flavor.
My love makes a sound low in his throat, and it is beautiful to hear. “Daisy,” he breathes, and follows it with a nonsensical rapid-fire comment in Russian that I can’t make out. I’m taking Russian in one of my classes at school, but he’s speaking too fast for me to pick it up.
I close my mouth around the head of his cock, and my hand goes to grasp the base of him. Nick can stand it no longer. His hands tangle in my hair and then he’s pushing deeper into my mouth.
I loosen my jaw to welcome him, to take him as deep as I can, and moan deep in my throat when he thrusts into my mouth. He’s a little rough, but I love it. I love him losing control; it’s not something Nick does easily, and it’s not something Nick does around everyone.
But I love it.
Then he’s fucking my face, his cock thrusting into my mouth, the head pushing at the back of my throat, and I do my best to take him. He’s big, though, and I’m still inexperienced, and so when I pull away, my gag reflex working, he lets me. I cough a little, and then give him a faint smile to let him know I’m okay.
Nick takes his cock in hand, wet and gleaming from my mouth, and begins to rub the head of it against my lips, watching me with intense, fascinated eyes. I part my lips, feeling the hot, soft skin brushing against my own, feeling him glide the pre-cum on my face.
Then, he pumps himself hard in hand and he’s coming on my face, splashes of heat spattering on my cheeks, my mouth, my lips. I lick them, because he likes the sight, and I love the taste of Nick. So wonderful.
He groans at the sight of me, face upraised to him, covered in his come. Then, he strips off his t-shirt and begins to mop at my face. “You are too good for one such as me, Daisy, my love.”
“I love you, Nikolai.”
I’m rewarded by that intense satisfaction in his eyes.
I’m pretty sure I burned the cookies in the oven. I’m pretty sure I don’t care, either.
Tomorrow, I decide, I will go to a gun shop and look for the perfect present for Nick. Something dangerous and beautiful, just like him.
~~ * ~~
Nikolai
“YOU SEEM PREOCCUPIED TODAY,” a soft voice on my right says to me. It is some girl whose name I cannot remember or, more honestly, a name I do not care to learn. She’s the interrupter. All she does is constantly interrupt me while I draw, while I dream. Today she has broken up my replay of last evening’s decadent lovemaking.
I try not to be angry with her. Perhaps she has no Daisy in her life, no one whom adores her and she adores back. Another person would feel, I suppose, sympathy because of her lack so I try not to scowl at her. Daisy would tell me to be polite.
“I am occupied with thoughts of my beloved,” I tell the interrupter. There. That is polite. I smile at myself. Daisy would be proud of me. I will tell her of this later when I pick her up from class.
Thoughts of my vehicle turn my smile into a frown. We are driving a rental because we have fierce arguments over t
he type of vehicle I want to buy for us, for Daisy really. I want to buy a Maybach with armored sides and bullet proof windows. Daisy screamed when she looked up the price for one on the internet. I think it is just the right price but her face was like a little thundercloud when she shook her phone at me, the one I have bought her.
She tells me she cannot drive yet because she has no license and unlike lingerie or fur coats, I cannot buy her one. She must take a test. I tell her she drives fine, but she demurs. Public transportation is fine, she says. There are buses that can take us everywhere, not to mention the train that runs from the interior of the city out to the suburbs.
Public transportation would be fine for me, but not for Daisy. There are other people who could touch her and even harm her.
It is perhaps paranoia, as she calls it, but I think it is just good sense, like leaving the house with a small revolver in my boot or Ka-Bar knife in my backpack. I have only a few tools of my former trade in our apartment—some of them are known to Daisy. Others I have failed to tell her about, such as the handgun in the closet and the one in our kitchen and the one I have taped under the front hall table. I will not leave Daisy undefended but I know she would feel uncomfortable with all the firearms. She asks, “where are all your guns, Nick?” and I tell her sadly “There is gun in nightstand and I have this small one.”
This is not a lie; more like not bothering her with unnecessary details. I am in charge of protecting my sweet Daisy so that she can give me all her tender love. I smile to myself, happily lost in the dream of her once again. I pick up my pencil and begin anew.
“Your beloved,” I hear the interrupter say. “That’s so old fashioned but sweet.
“Yes, sweet.” What would Daisy have me do? She would want me to smile at the interrupter. Daisy smiles at everyone. I try to smile at the interrupter. Is her name Patty? Dotty? Kitty? I cannot recall.
“You’re very devoted, aren’t you?” I finally look at the interrupter. Her dark hair is curled and lies in waves around her shoulders. She has very long eyelashes, like the legs of a spider. I think some would think she is attractive, but she looks nothing like Daisy. “What’re you giving her for Christmas?” she asks.
Giving her for Christmas. The words strike a chord in me and I slowly turn toward the interrupter. “Giving for Christmas…?”
“Yeah, I mean, she’s your beloved so you’re getting her something, right?”
I nod. Yes, I am, I think. Gifts for Christmas. Beaming at the interrupter, I ask, “What would you like, if you could have anything?”
She blinks at me and places a hand over her chest. “God, what I wouldn’t give for a guy like you to be so over the moon over me. Where’d you two meet?” Spiderlashed lady sets her face on one of her hands and moves closer to me. I’m uncomfortable by her nearness and by her strange eyelashes. I may draw these in my next work, giant long-legged wisps of black, like whiskers on the eyes.
“We meet…” I trail off and think of what Daisy would like me to say because the truth is that I spy on Daisy while researching a hit, a kill. I know Daisy would not want to me to tell the truth. “We meet in coffee house.”
“Your accent is just delicious. Do you have any brothers?” Flick, flick, go the eyelashes.
“Nyet, no brothers. No siblings.” I check the clock. Our time in class is almost up and I have not yet completed my project. Sighing, I begin to pack my things so I am not late to pick up Daisy. Last time I lingered overlong speaking with the professor about the darkness in my sketches and how I needed to incorporate lighter shades. By the time I arrived at Daisy’s campus, there was a horde of males surrounding her. At least two or three. Daisy says she is making new friends and so I hid my dismay.
“Well, if you and your girlfriend ever want to hang out, you should call me. Want my number?”
At first I shake my head in the negative, but Daisy would like more friends…so perhaps yes? “Da, you write it down for me.”
“Just give me your phone and I’ll put it in. “
I frown, unsure of whether I should do this, but then think of Daisy’s laughing face when she was talking to the other students. I hand over my phone, the public one—not the one I use to text Daisy. That phone has private images and private texts that no one should ever see but me.
The girl smiles at me and the legs of the spider flutter up and down. Once my phone is back in my hand, I see her name is Callie. “Thank you, Callie.” I hold out my hand to shake hers. She looks at it strangely and then shakes her head.
“You’re an odd duck. A hot one, but odd. Good thing I like odd.” She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly, holding on a little too long. “God, your hands are so big.”
My hand looks normal, I think, holding it up in front of me.
She laughs. “You’re so literal!”
“Thank you,” I say and try to bring her attention back to the Christmas gifts. “You are a woman, Callie,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “So nice of you to notice.”
Of course I notice. I notice everything. “Yes, I notice.” Impatiently I continue, “You like Christmas?”
Her eyes light up. “Who doesn’t?”
“What is it you like the best?” I ask. Traditions are important to Daisy. I want to start our own traditions.
“Gifts, of course,” she smirks.
A few other art students have wandered over. I ask all of them. “What is best gift you receive?”
They shout out answers.
“Jewelry.”
“Xbox.”
“Car.”
The last is from Callie. I point to her. “You get a car as a gift?”
“I wish,” she shakes her head. “But I’d like one. You giving them out?”
I nod slowly. “Yes. Yes, I think I am.” I clasp Callie around her shoulder, like she is a good comrade. “Thank you for your friendship.”
Turning, I head for the rental car. I am excited. Very excited. I am going to buy Daisy a car for Christmas.
When I arrive at Daisy’s college campus, my spirits are high and I care not that Daisy is surrounded by males—two at least. The third I am not so sure of. There are females there too. I wonder what they discuss. Perhaps gifts. I hope one of them wishes for a car so that Daisy will understand how normal this gift is. As I approach, I study the other individuals surrounding her to see what they might have that Daisy does not. Her coat is keeping her warm. I would like to buy her a fur but Daisy says that she doesn’t like the thought of wearing all those dead animals.
“Nick!” Daisy hails me immediately. She draws me into the crowd and I lean down to kiss her, just a small brush of my lips against hers. Then, to be sure, everyone understands that Daisy is under my protection, I place my gloved hand around the back of her collared neck.
“All done kotyonok?”
She nods eagerly and waves goodbye to her friends. “You seem in a pretty good mood.”
“Da, I run over motorist on the way here. Very satisfying.”
“Nick,” she exclaims, batting at my arm.
“Little hitman humor,” I joke.
Suddenly she stops and turns me to face her. “You never joke.” Her eyes are searching mine but she cannot see the gifts I have in mind for her, only that I love her so I stare back into the rich blue depths and think of her heavy eyelids the night before as she sucked me deep into her mouth.
“Last night,” I whisper to her, “so good, da?”
“Da,” she agrees.
“Tonight it is my turn.” I bend down close to her ear so no one can hear the words but her. “Tonight I will kneel between your tender thighs and I will lick you until you are screaming for mercy, but no mercy will be yours. Instead, I will torment you with my fingers and tongue and cock until you are senseless, until you feel nothing but pleasure in every nerve and fiber. There will be no centimeter of you that is not touched by me. When you arise from our bed tomorrow there will be no memory in your head but of me fucking you.”
Her knees buckle and I clasp her to me. “You shouldn’t say those things to me in public,” she gasps, glancing around.
“No one but you and I matter in this world, Daisy,” I tell her in all seriousness. “But come, let us get home so the fucking can commence.”
This elicits a giggle from her. “You’re so filthy and formal at the same time. I love it.”
I hold open the car door of the cheap sedan. It will be one of the last days Daisy will ride in this. Climbing into the passenger seat, I hand her my public phone. “I make friend for you today.”
“Is that right?” she takes the phone and flicks it open. “Is it this Callie person?”
“Da, she offers you her phone number so you can meet her.”
She snorts and then closes the phone. Leaning her head against the seat, she says, “I’m thinking she wants to be friends with you, Nick.”
“Nyet, she invites you to have coffee with her. I will come with so you are not alone,” I offer magnanimously as if it is a big gesture for me to accompany Daisy to a coffeehouse when in truth we both know that I am desolate without her. “But she is a little strange. You should not sit close to her. Her eyelashes look like giant spider legs. It is hard to concentrate on what she is saying when those long black things are creeping close to you,” I advise.
Daisy sighs. “Okay, Nick, if we decided to hang out with Callie, I’ll be sure to sit back far away from her.” There is a tone in her voice, one that suggests she is holding back a laugh. I take a moment to glance at her before focusing on the traffic in front of me. “What is funny then?”
This time she does laugh outright. “She’s probably wearing fake eyelashes, Nick! And she was flirting with you. She wants you to call her to take her out for coffee.”
“But I am with you Daisy, for always. Why would I want to have coffee with a girl with spiders on her eyes?”
She reaches over and lays her head against my arm. “I love you Nick. I love that you are completely clueless because otherwise I’d probably be tormented by jealousy.”
“There will never be anyone but you.” A break in traffic allows me a moment to drop a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Also, we will be home soon. I will show you what I mean.”
Last Gift Page 1