That Man 3

by Nelle L’Amour

  Upon saying my name, he shot me a sexy little wink. It sent tingles down my spine. The sooner we opened presents, the better. He was affecting me again.

  As was tradition in our house, we all sat down around the tree, with our mugs of coffee, and began the ritual. Cross-legged, Blake sat right next to me. So close, I could feel the heat of his body. My heart pitter-pattered, and my pussy felt as lit up as the Christmas tree.

  My parents and I exchanged gifts first. They were thrilled with what I’d gotten them—matching lambswool scarves and each a book—and I was equally delighted with what they’d gotten me—a stunning Coach backpack that matched my briefcase. It was quite an extravagant present given they were now living on my retired father’s pension. I gave them each a big hug.

  Blake and I watched as my parents then exchanged gifts. After all these years of marriage, a deep-rooted, true love still lit up their eyes as they handed each other festively wrapped up boxes. For Mom, a lovely red pullover sweater, and for Dad, a handsome argyle cardigan. Every year, the same glow, the same thank you, the same kiss on the cheek. Knowing my best friend Libby’s parents had gone through an ugly divorce, I felt blessed to have my loving parents.

  There were three remaining large boxes. All from Blake.

  “Those two are for you, Mr. and Mrs. McCoy,” he said, pointing to the two monstrous side by side boxes, identical in size and wrapped in exactly the same hunter green paper. Each was topped off with a humongous red velvet bow.

  “You didn’t have to buy us anything,” said my mother, reaching for the two boxes and handing one to my father. I watched as they opened them and gawked when they uncovered what was inside. Two magnificent Ralph Lauren plaid cashmere blankets. They must have cost a fortune. My parents could never afford anything like them.

  Blake was beaming. “I hope you like them. My parents have the same ones, so I thought they were a good bet.”

  My mother lovingly held the soft cashmere blanket to her cheekbone and then wrapped it around her shoulders. “Oh Blake, dear. They’re so beautiful. You shouldn’t have.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “An outstanding choice, son. Thank you from both of us.” My father, though he didn’t blatantly show it, was equally impressed and delighted with Blake’s extravagant gift.

  Blake gathered the last remaining box in his hands. This box was different in size and shape than my parents’—big and bulky—and it was wrapped in a whimsical, childlike snowman-themed paper. “This is for you, tiger.”

  My stomach muscles twisted. Shit. He called me “tiger” in front of my parents. While my mother, enraptured with her new blanket, was oblivious, my father raised a brow. Maybe, he just thought it was odd.

  “Thank you,” I stammered, taking the box from him. It was not particularly heavy or solid. I had no idea what could be inside. I carefully unwrapped it. A big red shiny box was now in my lap. Slowly, I lifted off the lid.

  My breath hitched in my throat when I eyed what was inside. With trembling hands, I took it out of the box. Another toy. This time a beautiful, white plush tiger with black stripes, a pink nose, and glass eyes as green as mine. About three feet tall, it was in a seated position, its limbs spread apart as if ready for a hug and then a fuck. Around its neck hung an exquisite pink tourmaline heart on a gold chain. My birthstone! I had told him in Vegas my birthday was in October. He remembered! My own heart hammered as my eyes met Blake’s. I knew this necklace was meant for me to wear. To have his heart close to mine.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice soft and sultry. “It’s a snow tiger. They’re an endangered species. Very special and rare.”

  “I love it!” Tears were verging. I love you.

  So wanting to hug him, to be in his arms, I hugged the cuddly tiger instead. “Thank you,” I said in almost a whisper, pressing my lips against its soft, sweet face. A tear escaped my eye and disappeared into the tiger’s velvety fur.

  My mother’s voice brought me out of my trance-like state. “Honey, do you want to help me make breakfast?”

  I lifted my head, hoping tears were no longer falling. “Sure, Mom.”

  “Wonderful. I’m making eggs.” Eggs? She turned to Blake. “Blake dear, how do you like your eggs?”

  Blake shot me a cocky grin and then responded. “Mrs. McCoy, I’m easy. I like my eggs every which way.”

  My pussy throbbed. Oh, God, egg talk! I suddenly became aware again of the little egg hiding inside me.

  My father stood up. “While my girls make breakfast, I’m going to dig out the driveway.”

  I glanced out the window. Our front yard was covered in snow. At least three feet—significantly more if you counted the drifts against our almost buried picket fence.

  “Let me do it,” insisted Blake.

  My father smiled. “I could use the exercise. But I’d appreciate your help, son.”

  “You’ve got it, Mr. McCoy.”

  My father nodded. “Thank you, and you can call me Harold.”

  As my mother and I retreated to the kitchen, Dad and Blake readied for the manly task that awaited them.

  Chapter 5

  Blake

  While I was in extra­ordinari­ly good shape from working out at the gym and doing the Santa Monica Stairs, I’d never shoveled snow before. At our family house in Aspen that we’d recently sold for a small fortune, we always had plows come by to dig us out. Man, shoveling snow was fucking hard work. I was breathing heavily and working up a sweat despite the nippy temperature. As I struggled to scoop up the dense powder from the packed driveway, I watched in awe as Jen’s father seemed to effortlessly shovel it away.

  “Pace yourself,” he urged. “And use your shoulder muscles as much as possible so you don’t hurt your back.”

  He was definitely in good shape for a man his age, and I tried my dammedest to keep up with him. Like with pumping weights or any sport, my mind was filled with the task at hand. But when I took short little breaks, my mind drifted to Jennifer.

  I’d had the most sensual experience of my life last night. Watching her play with her toy and come over and over again was one thing. But sleeping with her in the raw in my arms was something else. Our naked bodies spooned together, almost one, her heart mine, palmed in my hand. Sharing a blanket, our bodies warming each other. Yes, I had fucked many women, but I’d never slept with one after the act. Only my tiger. The girl I loved.

  I could have spent the whole day with her in bed, fucking and snuggling, but that wasn’t going to happen at her parents’ house. Plus, I woke up excited about giving my girl her other Christmas present. My heart pounded with anticipation as she unwrapped it under the tree and then exploded with elation when I saw in her eyes how much she loved the plush tiger. I was lucky to have found it at a toy shop in Ketchum and the tourmaline heart in a nearby jewelry store. Buying a woman presents was something new to me too. I never did that; all they got from me was my cock. But when it came to Jennifer McCoy, I couldn’t buy her enough. That’s how much I loved her. I could have easily gone into every store and bought her a boatload of beautiful things, but the reality of that badass blizzard combined with my burning urge to see her stopped me. Buying something for her—especially something perfect—gave me a high like a drug. I’d experienced this very high when I’d purchased the painting. It took my breath away—almost as much as she did. I couldn’t wait to fasten the pendant necklace around her neck. Wherever she was, my heart would always be near hers.

  Little by little, we cleared the snow and could even start to see the pavement. Mr. McCoy gave me another helpful tip—to keep one hand close to the shovel blade for better leverage. I readjusted my hands and discovered he was right again. It was easier this way.

  We worked away in silence for another half hour. Heated up, I peeled off my jacket and wrapped it around my waist.

  The silence was unexpectedly broken by Mr. McCoy.

  “Blake, I googled you this morning.”

  I gulped and felt my f
ace flare. I speared my shovel into a pile of snow and met his intense eyes with mine.

  “So you head up SIN-TV. That’s a porn channel. Right, son?”

  “Yes, sir, it is.” There was no pussyfooting around the truth. He knew.

  “I assume my daughter works for you. In the porn industry?”

  My throat tightened. I swallowed painfully. “Yes, sir. She does. She’s wonderful at her job.” It had quickly become apparent to me Jen had never told her overprotective parents about her real job. They probably thought she worked in children’s television. For sure, they didn’t know about the Don Springer incident, and I was going to keep it that way.

  “What exactly does she do?” ventured Harold.

  “It’s not what you think. She doesn’t handle the rowdy stuff.”

  His brows shot up. “What does that mean?”

  “She’s a development executive. She’s developing a really classy block based on bestselling books targeted to women.”

  “You mean like that Fifty Shades book?”

  By this time, who hadn’t heard about that book? “Yes, but even better.” I’d actually read a few and was quite impressed by the storylines, character development, and overall writing. And the level of steaminess was off the charts.

  “What I’m thinking of doing is making these productions not only for women but by women. Women writers, producers, and directors.” I hadn’t yet shared this thought with Jennifer, but was positive she would jump all over it.

  After another shovel of snow, Harold nodded his head approvingly. “That’s a good idea. She seems so happy, and she’s told us how much she loves her job though she never told us she was involved with adult entertainment. My wife doesn’t know, but eventually I’ll tell her.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  Harold and I both shoveled more snow. We were almost finished.

  “One last thing, son.”

  The tone of his voice made me uneasy.

  “I saw you with my daughter last night.”

  My stomach knotted. I put my shovel down. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. You kissed her.”

  Words stayed tangled in my lumpy throat. My face flushed. I couldn’t hide the truth.

  “You’re more than just her boss. She’s in love with you.”

  I sucked in a breath of the cold air and shot out the words. “And, Mr. McCoy, I’m in love with her.”

  To my surprise and relief, he smiled. “Did you have anything to do with her breakup with Bradley?”

  “No, nothing at all.” A lie as white as snow. I wiped some sweat off my brow and inwardly shuddered.

  “Well, to be honest with you, son, I never liked him though I never told my daughter or my wife that. He just rubbed me the wrong way.” He regarded me warmly, his eyes squinting from the glint of the snow and the sun. “I have a good feeling about you, Blake. Take good care of my little girl, Jennie. She’s my one and only.”

  I smiled back at him. “I will, sir.”

  His eyes darkened. “And make sure you don’t hurt her.”

  I nodded. “You have my word.”

  Satisfied with my response, he tossed his shovel. “C’mon, let’s head back inside. I’m as hungry as a bear.”

  Equally famished, I followed suit. Warmth radiated inside me. I’d scored points with Jennifer’s father. When I got back to LA, I was going to have a heart-to-heart with my dad too. Especially since Jen and I worked together, he needed to know.

  Chapter 6

  Jennifer

  I helped my mom make breakfast in our charming knotty-pine kitchen. Despite the fact she was a gourmet cook, she’d never updated it. It still bore memories of my childhood. We were standing a shoulder’s width apart, working away at a Formica counter.

  I took a break from the fruit I was dicing. “Mom, can I ask you a question?”

  Beating eggs in a bowl, she smiled at me. “Of course, honey. Anything.”

  “How did you know you loved Dad?”

  Her smile morphed into a concerned frown. “Oh dear, you’re still in love with Bradley?” She’d clearly not picked up on my feelings toward Blake. Though so much of me wanted to share what was going on, it was all too new, and I was unsure how things would move forward once we were back at work. I responded with a sigh.

  “Hardly. I’m totally over him. I’m just curious. That’s all.”

  My mom quirked a relieved smile. “I fell in love with him the minute I saw him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

  My mom had been his student his first year as a young assistant professor of English at Boise State. There was only a year difference in age between them.

  “And then what?”

  “The feeling was mutual. He asked me out.”

  “Weren’t you nervous about going out with your professor?” When I thought about it, a student-professor relationship was not that different from an employee-boss one.

  “Yes. I was. But my heart ruled my brain. I was young.”

  I was young too. But I knew what’d happened. Ultimately, that one date turned into a relationship. A love affair. A jealous female student made the university aware of their relationship. Fraternization was not allowed. My mother, an aspiring scholar, sacrificed her career, putting my father’s interests and needs before hers. She left the university, and three months later she and my father married. While I was crazy in love with my boss, there were so many doubts circling my head. Conquest Broadcasting didn’t forbid work relationships, but it wasn’t going to be easy. And it wouldn’t surprise me if one of his jealous blond bimbos like Kitty-Kat did me in. Both my career and my heart were at stake. I needed to know.

  “Mom, do you have any regrets?”

  She smiled wistfully. “Not one. Your father and I were meant to be. I couldn’t imagine life without him.” She paused and pecked my cheek. “And you, my darling, were meant to be ours.”

  I hugged my mom, at once excited and anxious about what the future might bring. Perhaps, Blake and I could find some time to talk. There was a lot to talk about.

  *

  I helped my mom serve the beautiful platter of scrambled eggs she’d made along with the linked sausages and a large bowl of fruit salad. Buttered toast, fresh squeezed orange juice, and fresh coffee were also on the breakfast menu. I was never going to be as good a cook or hostess as my mom. Somehow, that Martha Stewart gene had skipped me.

  Blake and Dad were already at the kitchen table. Both were rosy-cheeked from being outdoors. The color in Blake’s face made him even sexier to me. His eyes sparkled.

  “That looks delicious, Mrs. McCoy,” Blake said as my mother handed him the platter.

  My mother smiled at the compliment. “Thank you, dear. Help yourself and pass them around. And please call me Meg.”

  Once the other courses were on the round table, my mother and I joined them. I helped myself to a generous portion of everything though it was hard to eat with my beautiful Blake in my face.

  He ate heartily. Something I found so sexy about him. “There’s nothing like good old eggs and sausage for breakfast,” he commented between bites.

  So far, he’d been very well behaved. I kept waiting for him to trigger the vibrating egg, but maybe he’d forgotten about it. Relaxing a little, I lifted a forkful of the perfectly cooked eggs to my mouth. As I did, the shoulder of the oversized sweater I was wearing drooped down.

  My mother’s eyes widened. “Darling, what’s that red welt on your shoulder?”

  Flushing, I gulped down the eggs. I’d totally forgotten about Blake’s bite. “Um, uh, I think it’s a bug bite.”

  Mom’s face grew alarmed. “Oh dear Lord, I hope we don’t have bedbugs.” She gazed at my Dad who wore a bemused expression. “Darling, we’d better call an exterminator right after the holidays.”

  “I don’t think we’ll have to.”

  My father winked at me. My stomach muscles tightened. What did he and Blake ta
lk about outside? Did he know?

  I shot Blake a glance, but he kept a straight poker face.

  My still concerned mother asked if he’d gotten any bites. “Not a one,” he replied and went back to heartily eating his breakfast. I hastily pulled my sweater up over my shoulder. I’d lost my appetite.

  My mom noticed I wasn’t eating. “Jen, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you eating more?”

  At that minute, Blake became Mr. Bad Boy. With the remote likely in his left hand under the table, he turned the vibrating egg on full speed. It pulsed inside my pussy. Holy shit! I couldn’t sit still. My eyes locked on his. He grinned at me fiendishly.

  “Jen, you really should have more of your mother’s eggs. They’re so delicious.”

  Yes, they were. Except there was another egg I was finding more delicious. The one buried inside me. The pulsing was driving me crazy. Taking me over the edge. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t shriek. Then I began to hum, fearful my parents would hear my crotch buzzing.

  “Jennifer, are sure you’re okay?” Worry laced my mother’s voice.

  “Yes, Mom. I’m just really full.” Oh was I! I was going to explode.

  My orgasm began its takeover. I jumped up from my chair “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  On my way out of the kitchen, I shot Blake a dirty look. He’d promised to behave. I should have never trusted him. He grinned that devastating diabolic grin. I raced to the guest bathroom and let myself come with waves of pleasure.

  “Beautiful bastard,” I sighed as I pulled out the egg. He’d made me hunger for him all over again. I craved and loved him so much.

  Chapter 7

  Jennifer

  By the time we finished breakfast and I helped my mom clear the table, it was close to noon. My parents lingered over coffee, telling Blake childhood stories about me. While I was grateful Blake wasn’t forced to tell work-related stories, mortification raced through me. Blake, however, seemed to enjoy each and every one and frequently laughed out loud. God, he was sexy when he let out that deep laugh, his two little dimples lighting up his face. Even I had to laugh when my parents shared the time my father had told me I needed a little elbow grease to finish building my dollhouse. Silly me ran to my mother’s pantry, yanked out the shortening, and smeared it all over my arms. What a doofgirl!