Refrain & Reprise

by Sadie Grubor

  John places his large hand on Ryan's shoulder, pulls him close, and takes another sizable step back. "Whatever you say, son."

  "Thank God!" Mia's exclamation draws my attention from the fryer.

  She hurries through the French doors, leaving them open as she pulls her cell out of her back pocket.

  "I promised Jack I'd video this," she states, tapping her phone.

  "Princess," John calls out. "You need to come over to the safe zone."

  Before I can glare at John, Chris rushes out behind her.

  "Mia," he shouts, "don't get too close."

  Her step slows, glancing between me and the fryer.

  Catching up to her, Chris throws his arm over her shoulder and guides her next to John. "This is as close as you're getting."

  "Where's the baby?" Ryan asks, looking up at his aunt.

  "Grandma has her." Mia smiles down at him.

  "Does Max have a tale?"

  Chris frowns, Mia scrunches up her face in confusion, and John bursts into laughter. Living so close to John and Linda, they are aware of everything Ryan and the shit he comes up with. Plus, I couldn't wait to share that shit with someone, so the moment they arrived, I told the whole story.

  "No," John chuckles. "Max doesn't have a tale."

  Ryan grumbles, "What’s a guy gotta do to get more tales around here?"

  "What am I missing?" Mia asks, glancing from Ryan to her dad.

  "Boys have tales. Girls don't," is all he says. It's enough, because her eyes widen, mouth drops open, and she starts laughing too.

  While they're distracted by Ryan, I check the thermometer to make sure the oil is ready. After a few minutes, their laughter quiets, and the temperature is perfect.

  "Alright, let's do this!" I exclaim.

  Grabbing the triangular handle of the turkey hook, I raise the bird up and over the pot.

  "Hold on!" I pause at Mia's exclamation and look over.

  She lifts her cell phone, and says, "Okay, go ahead."

  "See no evil, Ry," I state.

  When my boy covers his eyes, I flip off Mia's phone, and say, "That's for you, Jack!"

  Returning to my task, I say, "It's all good, Ry. You can watch now."

  I lower the turkey into the pot, listening to the oil hiss and sizzle against the raw meat. When it's finally submerged, I release the metal handle and step back.

  "Ha!" I shout, pointing at my audience. "You all thought I couldn't do it!"

  "Well, that was uneventful," Chris states.

  "Agreed," John adds. "I had the fire department on standby."

  Mia turns her phone on herself. "Sorry, Jack, he actually did it. Tell Liza I said hi."

  Lifting my arms high above my head, because I'm fucking awesome, I shout, "I am the king of turkey frying!"

  "Yeah!" Ryan cheers, jumping up and down with his arms up, mimicking mine.

  "Come on, little dude." I motion for Ry to follow me back into the house, and he hurries to my side. I lean down and lift him onto my arm.

  "Turkey King. Turkey King," we chant, entering the kitchen.

  "No injuries?" Linda asks, surprise in her voice.

  I'd be offended, but she looks so content sitting next to a playpen with Zoey and Maggie inside and Max in her arms.

  "Of course not," I scoff. "I am the king of turkey frying."

  "You're the king of something," Serena teases from the kitchen island, grinning over the bowl of boiled potatoes she's smashing.

  "You are married to a culinary genius," I boast.

  "I can't believe he actually did it without a disaster." Mia comes in with Chris and John close behind her. "No flames. No overflowing."

  "No losing a finger or hand," Chris adds, sounding a bit too disa-fucking-ppointed.

  "Y'all are always underestimating me," I say flatly with a shake of my head. "By now you should know how goddamn awesome I am."

  "Can someone explain the restrained doll over there?" Chris nods in the direction of the fridge.

  Fuck! I forgot to take that down.

  "Isn't that the cute little Elf on the Shelf I got Ryan?" Linda asks, confusion lacing every word. Before I can respond, she continues. "Why in the good lord's name is it hung by its feet and bound in rope?"

  "And what exactly is that Barbie doll wearing?" Mia asks, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

  Linda's eyes come to me, demanding an answer.

  "Daddy says Bart was a bad boy and needed to be taught a lesson," Ry responds.

  Mia snorts, bites back a laugh, and then asks, "What did he do that was so bad?"

  "He touched Barbie's cookie," Ryan informs, shaking his head. "You shouldn't touch other people's cookies. Not without consent. Right, Dad?"

  His face turns up to mine, the biggest smile on his face.

  Ruffling his hair, I smile down at him. "Right, bud."

  Mia loses her battle and bursts into a fit of giggles.

  "Dear God," John groans.

  "Elliott," Linda hisses.

  Looking up from Ry's face, I find John rubbing his forehead, Linda's mouth hanging open, and Chris smirking.

  "What? Consent is important," I defend.

  "So are condoms," Ryan adds, pride in his voice.

  The slam of a glass bowl on the countertop draws my attention to Serena. My eyes meet her glare.

  "I'm teaching life lessons here," I argue.

  "Teach your son how to say grace, not about bondage," she orders.

  "We already practiced. Didn't we, Ry?"

  "Yep!" he shouts, grinning wide. "We're thankful for Mommy's boobs!"

  "Oh my God," Mia cries out, laughing harder.

  "Sweet Jesus," John grumbles, while Linda just gasps.

  "I told you shit would go down," Chris says into his phone, which is aimed at me.

  "Seriously, Elliott?" Serena slams her fist on the counter.

  Motioning to Ryan, I explain, "That's completely taken out of context. He needs to do the entire thing."

  "We're thankfully for Mommy's bountiful boobs," Ryan says, giggling wildly.

  "That was between us, traitor," I accuse, making him laugh harder.

  "Elliott…" I'm very familiar with my wife's angry tone.

  "I swear, baby, we practiced without the bountiful part," I explain.

  Lifting a mashed potato covered spoon, she points it at me.

  "You had better hope so, or you'll be divorced by New Years," she threatens.

  "I'll be honest, the turkey was amazing," John praises, slipping his arms into his coat.

  "Thank you."

  "But," he quickly adds, "please untie the elf before Linda loses her mind."

  I nod. "Well, it's Christmas Eve, so we have to release him to return to the North Pole."

  Linda comes up from behind us, adding, "I hope you know you'll be on the naughty list for what you did to poor Bart."

  "That's nothing new," Chris tells them, zipping his coat up and around Maggie, who is currently asleep against his chest.

  "Are you gonna punish me this year?" I waggle my brows at him.

  "You're an idiot," Chris states, picking up the infant carrier from the floor and walking out the door.

  "Thank you for everything," Mia says, hugging Serena. "Merry Christmas."

  "Merry Christmas," my wife returns.

  Mia turns to me, gives me a goodbye hug, then follows Chris out to their car.

  "Goodnight," John and Linda call out before they too exit for their walk home.

  "Night," I shout after them, and close the door.

  "Thankful for my boobs? Really?" Serena crosses her arms over her chest.

  My eyes drop to where the glorious breasts are now on display.

  Licking my lower lip, I nod. "Fuck yeah."

  "You're a perv," she says, and walks away.

  "That ass is pretty fabulous, too," I offer.

  She spins and opens her mouth, but Ry rushes down the stairs with Serena's vibrator in his hand. "I found Zoey's tail!"

/>   "Oh my God!" she exclaims. "Ryan, give me that!"

  As he rushes by, I snatch it out of his hand.

  "Where did you—” Serena begins.

  "Why would you remove her tail?" Ryan cuts her off. "And why is Zoey's bigger than mine?"

  "That's what she said," I blurt.

  "I…I just…" Serena shakes her head and points down at Ryan. "I'm done. You handle your son. I'm putting our tailless daughter to bed."

  The instant “your son” and “our daughter” comes out of her mouth, my dick pulses. So, I'm quick to calm Ry down and convince him to go to bed so Santa can come.

  And by Santa, I mean me. And by come, I mean me again.

  After tucking him in, I enter our room, closing and locking the door behind me. The sound of the shower draws me into our bathroom.

  Stripping my clothes along the way, I'm naked the moment my feet touch the tile floor. The fogged glass of the doors doesn't completely hide my gorgeous wife. Nor does is open quietly when I make my move to join her.

  "We need to bring the presents up from the," she turns as she speaks, "basement and get them—"

  Grabbing her round hips, I yank her against me and crush my mouth to hers. Our lips part at the same time and my tongue plunges inside, tangling with hers.

  I slip one hand from her hip to her ass and glide the other up her wet skin. Stopping to cup her left breast, I brush my thumb over her hard nipple.

  She breaks the kiss and gasps for air.

  Squeezing her ass harder, I slide my hand over her breast until I can cup the back of her neck.

  "Elliott," she pants.

  "You called him my son," I growl, grinding my cock against her lower belly and moving her hands over my biceps, shoulders, and up my neck. Taking my face in both her hands, she brings it to hers. Our eyes lock, and she says, "Because he’s your son, Elliott."

  Closing the distance, I'm about to take her mouth again, but she turns her head and pushes against my chest.

  "Serena," I growl.

  She leans close, bringing her mouth to my ear, "What do you say, baby?"

  Grinning, I fist her red hair and tug. Head back, her long neck is exposed, and her mouth is mine to take.

  "You act like a brat, I'll treat you like one," I warn.

  "Is that so?" she taunts.

  Fuck, if this woman isn't the best thing to ever happen to me.

  "Ask me for my tongue," I instruct.

  "Maybe I don't want it," she says with a small shrug.

  Giving her ass a tight squeeze, I watch anticipation light her eyes. Then I slap my wet hand against her wet ass. She jumps, biting back a scream.

  "Are you going to be a good girl and use your manners?" I begin to rub the cheek I just struck.

  I see the defiance in her eyes before she gives a small shake of her head.

  Raising one brow, I move my hand around her body, press her against the tiles, and plunge a finger inside. As I pump, I run the tip of my tongue along her parted lips.

  She tries to capture it in her mouth, but I evade the attempts, watching her frustration escalate.

  "You," I plunge a second finger inside, "know what to do."

  "Fuck me," she demands.

  "That's not very nice," I scold, removing my fingers and pinching her clit.

  "Oh, fuck," she shouts.

  "Not until you ask nicely, baby," I remind with a tap of my fingertip to her clit.

  "Please," she whimpers.

  "Please what? Please stop?"

  Removing my hand from between her legs, I take half a step back until her body no longer touches mine.

  "Fine," she growls. "I'll handle it myself."

  She reaches down and shoves her hand between her legs.

  Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I stop her, and she groans.

  "Please," she begs.

  "Please what?"

  "Please watch me make myself come."

  "Fuck, baby." I release her wrist. "When you ask so nicely, how can I resist?"

  Two of her fingers adeptly part her lips for my viewing pleasure, while the other two drive inside. With my free hand, I fist my cock and start to pump.

  "Faster," I order, and she complies.

  "Please let me come," she begs.

  It's almost my undoing.

  Watching my wife make herself come is one of the hottest fucking sights. Getting an up-close view is better.

  "Not yet," I grunt, dropping to my knees.

  Warm water beats against the back of my head as I furiously move my hand up and down my aching dick, and lock my eyes on the way her fingers slip and plunge inside. My balls tighten and the tingling at the base of my spine becomes a burn.

  "Now, baby, show me how wet you can make those pretty fingers," I order.

  Pumping my own way to release, I lift one hand to the wall next to her thigh.

  "Elliott," she moans.

  Her hips buck as the orgasm sweeps through her.

  I lean in and kiss the back of her hand. Knowing exactly what I want, she moves her fingers from her pussy to my awaiting mouth. The moment her taste hits my tongue, my release explodes from my body.

  I may love the way she asks, begs, and obeys, but there is no fucking doubt who runs this mother fucking show. And I will always kneel before my goddess.

  Merry fucking Christmas to me.

  ~~ End ~~

  Next… A Stone Hard Christmas

  Stone Hard Christmas

  Xavier Stone

  "Don't give me that look." I point my finger at her determined face.

  "Don't tell me what to do with my Vada," she stresses.

  The way she's acting, you’d think I short circuited her favorite vibrator.

  "I'm not telling you—"

  "You can't seriously bring that run-down car out here," Sid lowers her voice, trying to mimic me. "It won't survive the trip."

  "That's fact, not telling you what to do," I object. I was hoping this would go better. I was hoping she would let me fucking finish trying to give her the best pre-Christmas gift ever.

  "Close enough, Sasquatch," she grumbles, pushing out of the aerodynamic chair at her desk.

  I open my mouth to argue my case, but my little tiger is too quick to draw her claws.

  "Ya know, I've almost forgiven you for the company party incident, and you have to go and do this." She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at me. "Don't you laugh."

  "Oh, come on!" I bark with a laugh. "It's not my fault you're gullible."

  "Gullible," she scoffs. "I was hopeful! And that means it hurt all that much more when you lied to me."

  "Tiger," I coo, reaching for her.

  "Don't touch me." She swats at my hands. "You don't get to douse the fire in my loins, suggest I just abandon my baby in Pennsylvania, and then fondle me."

  "Come on, it's not my fault you really believed there would be a Santa stripper and a holiday orgy going down at the studio party. I mean, there were kids there," I argue.

  "Oh, I know there were kids there," she counters, poking me in the chest. "I know this because we walked onto the studio lot and were greeted by a bounce house, party game stations, and Santa arrived to deliver gifts to them. However," she stabs my chest with her finger again, "you didn't say it would be a family party—even after all my fantasizing aloud about what I thought it would be like."

  "It's not my fault you have such depraved notions about my parents’ company. In fact, it's a bit judgmental that you think they are just sex-crazed nymphos."

  Dropping into her chair, she sighs, "Yeah, being with you is really killing my fantasies."

  "Thanks," I deadpan, then get us back on track. "So, since Vada won't be—"

  "I have made no decision on Vada," she interrupts. "Are you jealous of my car?"

  "Why would I be jealous of that car?"

  "That car?" she gasps. "You should totally be jealous of her, ‘cause I love it way more than you. In fact, I'm contemplating leaving you just to
go back home to her."

  I open my mouth to remind her I'm the one she loves most, but am distracted when she picks up her cell phone and taps the screen.

  "What are you—?"

  "Hey, Daddy," Sid coos.

  "Oh, that's low," I grumble.

  I love Sid's parents. Her mother is a total MILF, though she hides it behind her proper housewife persona, and her Dad is hilarious. What I didn't quite realize, until Sid moved to LA with me, is she is a total daddy's girl. An unrepentant one at that, always trying to use him to stack things in her favor.

  Lucky for me, Mark isn't too overbearing about it, and half the time I'm sure he's only getting her worked up so I have to deal with her crazy rather than him. I mean, the guy has dealt with it for years, so I get it. Lucky for Sid, she's my kind of fucking crazy and being part of these things with her is something I’m a thousand times ready to do. Unlucky for Sid, it doesn't fucking matter what her daddy says. I'm a grown ass man who doesn't take orders from my girlfriend's father.

  She grins and continues. "Vada is all looked after back home, right?" She nods. "Great, ‘cause I'm going to bring her out to California."

  "There is no way—"

  "It's not a joke," she argues into the phone.

  Ha! He's on my side.

  "I've been trying to tell her, Mark," I shout. "But she won't listen to me."

  Sid turns a scowl on me, and mouths, “Shut up."

  "I'm not getting rid of her," she protests.

  "You don't have to," I say on a part growl, part sigh. Not once did I say get rid of the fucking car. I just said the black Xterra would never make a cross country trip.

  "But I could have her transported out here by… Fine, traitor," she snaps. "See if I let Mom talk to Xavier anymore." She grins victoriously. "All is fair in—hey!"

  I snatch the phone from her hand, push my body between her legs, and put the cell to my ear.

  "I'll leave you voicemails to play anytime you want," I inform him.

  Mark laughs. "You trying to work her up for a reason, son?"

  "Give back the phone, Sasquatch!" Her arms stretch up, but with my body so close, she can't stand or get higher than my pectorals.

  "No, I actually brought it up because I have a surprise for her, but she won't stop bitching long enough to hear me out," I tell him.

  "Ah, well, once you two are sorted, give us a call and let us know when you're on your way for dinner."