by kj lewis
Zoe is spot on in her gifts to Finn. And Colin, in a hilarious nod to my outburst about him taking the kids to a ballgame a couple months ago, gives me season tickets to the Yankees.
Coincidentally, Sam picked Quade and Quade picked Sam. Am I irrationally jealous? Of course. Do I have to admit they know each other very well? Regretfully, yes. It’s evident by the inside stories behind their gifts for each other. Quade’s final gift is a trip for the two of them to a three-day music fest at Red Rock Park in Colorado. That plonker better have reserved two hotel rooms.
Grace has Poppy’s name who has been playing with every item in her stocking while everyone was opening theirs. There’s been a feather boa wrapped around her shoulders throughout the evening.
“There’s one thing I wasn’t able to fit into your stocking,” Grace tells Poppy setting a box in front of her. Pops eyes expand into saucers at the beautifully wrapped gift in front of her. She looks from the large gold bow to Grace. “Open it sweetheart.” Poppy takes her time, intrinsically sensing this is something special—just for her.
Pierce helps her lift the top off and when she folds back the tissue paper, she quickly glances to me. Looking for guidance. Sensing her distress, I slide onto the floor next to her and she sits in my lap. She’s quiet and we all take our cues from her. Letting her process. She reaches into the box and pulls out a pink and orange crocheted blanket. It’s large enough to cover her queen size bed.
Her little fingers inspect the yarn and when she’s ready she looks to Grace.
“Do you remember this?” Grace asks her and Poppy nods.
“Mommy was making this for me before she died.” Her eyes well, but no tears fall. “My favorite colors are pink and orange.”
“That’s what I heard. I ran into your grandmother,” Grace says, pulling the blanket out of the box, “right after Thanksgiving.” She drapes it over Poppy. “She remembered me, and we ended up having coffee. She was telling me about the blanket. I told her I would be honored to finish it. I hope that’s okay with you?” Grace asks uncertain.
“I have a blanket too.” Poppy says to Zinnie who nods.
“You sure do. Only the one mom made me was pink and blue. My favorite colors when I was your age.”
Grace unfolds the rest of the blanket and points where the colors are inverted. “Your mom made almost all of it. See this corner where the colors are backwards from the rest of the blanket? This is the section I finished. I wanted you to always know where your mom stopped and I started. You can see, she made almost the whole blanket.”
“Will you teach me?” Poppy asks Grace, who answers with a simple yes. Grace is perceptive and understands. She isn’t expecting Poppy to jump up and down. Instead letting her work through her feelings on her own. Poppy doesn’t leave my lap, but she leans forward and gives Grace a kiss.
The last person to open their stocking is Zinnie. Charlotte has it filled it with unique things she had been collecting from street fairs and boutique shops.
“One more thing,” Charlotte says.
Zinnie digs to the toe of the stocking and pulls out a stack of business cards wrapped in a blue ribbon. They have a logo on the front, Eleven Hearts. Below is a web address. Charlotte hands her an iPad and Zinnie types in the address. Up pops a fully-created blog site loaded with pictures and post Zinnie has already written. It’s high quality. I knew Charlotte worked in web-design, but I had no idea she was this talented.
Zinnie reads the descriptive blurb then slings herself onto Charlotte, knocking her onto her back.
“I love it!” she says. “This is exactly what I would have wanted. I can’t wait to show it to Jules when I start my internship.”
“Remember—” Pierce states.
“I know,” Zinnie says with a bit of exasperation. “I won’t post anything that tells people where I am.”
The girls don’t know it, but Pierce has pretty much taken over their security. Ever since another billionaire’s child was kidnapped several weeks ago, he is taking no chances. The girls have more security than the fucking president, they just aren’t aware.
The night ends with a mix of traditions. Egg Nog from Zoe’s family. Carols from Quade’s. We each light a candle, from Grace’s. Pierce asks to put Poppy to bed while the rest of the crew clean. Zinnie says her own good nights and when the last dish is put away and the last of the wrapping paper picked up, I take a minute to appreciate Sam’s squad.
“You know,” I tell Zoe, Grace and Charlotte, “when you invaded my house that first night, I had no way of knowing what you would come to mean to my girls. I certainly had no way of knowing what you would mean to me. Now, I couldn’t imagine the girls’ lives without you. You’ve sacrificed a lot of your time the last few months to get the girls to a place where they feel safe and empowered to be themselves. I couldn’t have done this without my boys, but there’s no way I could have done it without you women too.”
She skims her fingers over my skin in the way she traces the binding on her favorite novel before inhaling its scent. Reading every inch of me like I am a book that she reads over and over. I writhe beneath her explorations and by the time she’s turned every page and marked her favorite parts. I’m close to coming.
Handel’s Messiah with just the five of us was perfect. Finn is bunking in the tent with the girls, giving Sam and me a few glorious hours to spend inside each other. This is better than any gift she could give me.
“Sam,” I whimper. I need her. She’s been driving me mad for the last twenty minutes. She shimmies down my thighs, giving her a better angle on my cock. She sucks just the tip before pulling me to the back of her throat. I’ve never told her this is what I crave. She just knows.
“Fuck yes.” My hips rock toward her mouth. She moans her approval. Her left hand cups my balls.
“Turn over,” she says, my dick falling to my stomach. Against my will, I do. It aches to not be in her mouth. She straddles my arse and massages every inch of skin she can find. Once she’s convinced I’m too relaxed to move, she aligns her body with mine. She raises my hands above my head and her fingers entwine with mine. I’ve never been in a position like this before. She’s not trying to dominate me, but I’ve never had anyone who focused only on me.
I can’t lie. I’m a fan. It feels hella good to be loved.
Her hands clamped in mine, I can feel the pleasure from her sex leaving a trail as she slowly rides the curve of my arse. I love how uninhibited she is.
“I don’t want you to get carried away,” she whispers in my ear, her body gyrating against mine. “And I know your first instinct will be to flip me over and fuck me into this mattress, but I want your word you won’t. Not until I say so.”
Her voice is low and so full of desire that it’s really all I need to get off. With her on top of me, I begin to grind my dick into the bed beneath me.
It’s clear she likes the friction it supplies against her own movement, because she moans loud enough to wake the dead.
“Shh, baby,” I chuckle, even though we are on opposite sides of the apartment as the others.
“You make me so hot, Walt. I want you so much.” Her words tickle my ear and I start to roll over.
“No. Remember?” I do, but how she expects me to stay like this when she makes me feel like a fucking sex god, I’ll never know.
She sucks on my neck and works her way down my back. The role reversal fogs my brain a little, because it feels fucking amazing.
My dick is leaking like a faucet at this point, and by the time her teeth sink into my arse cheek, I’m moments away from breaking my promise.
Her lips tickle the top of my buttocks before she bites the other cheek. But nothing prepared me for what she did next. I’ve never had my arse eaten out before. Finn, on more than one occasion, has tried to convince me that I’m missing out, but I never thought it would be something that happened. I had to beg Camilla to even put her lips on my dick.
But with Sam, it’s like she wants ever
y part of me as much as I want every part of her. She came apart when I did the same to her an hour ago. I thought I was going to have to resuscitate her. Now I understand why.
“Oh my God, Sam.” I put my head into the pillow, making noises I didn’t know I was capable of. This woman is totally ruining me for anyone else. Her finger massages my opening and before I can say, “I’m not sure about that,” her finger breeches me. She curls it and when she does, she hits something that causes a full body explosion inside of me. My arse lifts into the air, and I hear her evil chuckle. She knows exactly what she is doing.
The bottoms of my feet feel like I have been fire-walking, and even though I am almost certain I could come just like this, there is no way that is how this plays out.
One ninja move later, Sam is wearing a large handprint on her arse and is flat on her stomach. I’m leaking so much I wouldn’t need lube, but I do need a condom for this, so I take the time to grab the lube, applying it liberally to Sam before coating my dick with it. She doesn’t protest or stop me. In fact, she urges me on with her dirty talk.
“Relax, baby.” I say as the head of my cock breaches her arse. Her breath catches, and I kiss a trail up her spine to calm her. Slowly, I sink into her. Her heat incinerates me, and I have to lie still or risk coming on the first thrust.
We lie there. Neither of us moving. My fingers entwine with hers, as hers were with mine moments ago.
“Move,” she pleads, and I do. Each slide in and out, measured and intentional, shatter any remaining barriers between us. I’m not one to have dick measuring contests, but I’ve been in enough locker rooms to know that my girth and length is above average, but it doesn’t appear to be an issue for her. She begs me to move faster, but I don’t. Instead, I torture her and, in kind, myself, with slow precise undulations.
“I love you,” she whispers. My entire body freezes at the words. Did I hear her correctly? Without thinking, I flip her over, remove the condom, and sink inside her. Her legs wrap around my waist and her wet heat swallows my cock. But that will have to wait, because the woman I love just told me she loves me.
“Say it again,” I demand.
But she doesn’t. Not yet. Instead, she leans up and plants the gentlest of kisses on my lips.
“I love you.” It’s an admission. Like it was embedded within her, bursting to get out, and she just couldn’t control it anymore.
“I love you,” I tell her. I don’t want to make her wait even a minute to hear it again. My hips move, but I’m so beguiled by her that I’m not even aware of it until my cock swells deep within her, melding us together.
For the first time since we’ve started this affair, Sam and I sleep next to each other. I’ve wanted this as much as I wanted to hear her declare her true feelings. Each life can be measured by its milestones. Tonight, was a milestone in our relationship.
The alarm we set chimes, pulling us from our sleep. We’re both a little too tired for Christmas morning sex, so we lie together through soft kisses, talking about the girls and the hopes we both have for today. I want to ask her about her family, to let her know her memories have a place in our lives, but she’s so reluctant to talk about it. Instead, I take the easy way out and give her her gift while it’s just the two of us.
I reach into my night stand and snag the ribboned box, setting it on her bare stomach. “Merry Christmas love.”
“We’re not exchanging until after breakfast,” she chastises.
“Well, this one is just between the two of us.” I nudge the box up her torso. She smiles and removes the ribbon.
Her face shows a combination of surprise and confusion. She sits up silently, pulling the ring out of the box and sliding it onto her right hand. When I don’t protest the placement, she relaxes a little and smiles. Sam knows there’s no way we talk engagement rings without first telling the girls. I know I’m ready, but I’m not sure she is. In some ways Sam is older than her years. She’s seen more than any one person ought to. But in other ways, she’s still young. She put her life on hold for so long, that she is really just now starting to live. I know she’s ambitious and wants to finish school. Marriage right now, for her, would be pressing pause on her dreams again.
So, for now I’ll settle for just telling the girls we are together. That I love Sam and she loves me. I plan to tell them tonight. There’s not a single part of me that’s worried about their response.
For now, this is the right ring for her. It’s a bezel-set four-carat oval sapphire set in yellow gold. Simple and stunning. Just like her.
Despite our lack of sleep, Sam spends the next thirty minutes showing me how much she loves the ring. Fuck me. I’ll have a ring for her every day if it brings this kind of smile to her face and this kind of pleasure to my body.
Breakfast is full of pancakes and laughter and stories. I think about how different the holidays were just a year ago. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was miserable. Disengaged. Living only for myself. Now, I live for these girls. Seeing all of them, Sam and Finn included, unwrapping presents, comparing gifts, oohing and aahing over their bounties makes me feel like a provider. Not because I buy them gifts, but because I can make them feel safe and cared for.
“Oh my God! Catch him,” Sam yells to Zinnie, who grabs for Finn before he falls on his arse. Finn is not meant to be on ice skates. Zinnie goes down with him, but Finn braces her fall with his body. Sam doubles over. She and Finn are practically crying.
We put Finn out of his misery, leaving the rink to grab some much needed cocoa from the restaurant next door.
“Merry Christmas,” the waitress says flatly. I don’t blame her. She’s working on Christmas. I order cocoas and warm croissants to heat our insides.
“They make you work Christmas?” Poppy asks the waitress, appalled.
“Someone has to.” The woman smiles kindly to my inquisitive little girl.
“Don’t you have family to be with?” asks Poppy, and I put my hand over hers. There’s a hint of sadness in her eyes.
“My little girl isn’t here anymore,” the woman says softly.
“Are they sleeping in heaven like my parents?” Poppy asks. The woman seems touched by her genuineness, but it’s clear she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“She is,” she states, mustering a smile for Poppy.
Poppy. I think people can’t help but appreciate her frankness, because it’s so evident that it’s from a place of purity.
“Did you two go home to use the loo?” I ask Finn and Sam.
“I forget how far away they are here.” Sam slides into her chair. Finn is still laughing at whatever she said before they sat at the table.
“The waitress lost her little girl,” Poppy tells Sam who props her arm on the back of her chair.
“I’m really sorry to hear that. So many people have lost some—”
“Samantha?” The waitress says her name and Sam’s face pales before she even lifts her head.
“Samantha,” she says again. Only this time it’s filled with anger and a hint of malice.
“Mrs. Yates,” Sam says with a pained look on her face.
“Is this your family?” The woman looks at Poppy and Zinnie. She looks from me to Finn, trying to figure out which one of us might be her husband.
Sam starts to introduce them, but she cuts her off.
“You were the one who left those flowers, weren’t you? How is this fair? You stole my daughter from me. I loved her and you killed her. And nothing. No consequences for you. No. You get a happy family to go home to. I will never have a family again. No wedding for Kathryn. No grandkids to buy twenty-dollar hot chocolates for on Christmas day. You stole all that from me.” Tears begin to stream down the woman’s face. “You’re a killer and you walked free.”
Sam walks over to place her hand on the woman’s arm. “Michelle, please. Kathryn wouldn’t want—” None of us even see it. The woman’s opened hand moves fast and with precision, slapping Sam across the face. Finn and I bot
h jump up, but Sam holds out her hand to stop us.
“Don’t you speak her name,” Mrs. Yates spews. “Your choices killed my daughter. You killed your family. I wake up every day unable to breathe. And you’re here, laughing and happy. I pray every day God would bring back my daughter and take you. I hate you,” she says through sobs. The entire restaurant is silent, watching the horror play out in front of them. Mrs. Yates walks away leaving the hateful words that apparently have been stored inside for years.
“Samantha,” I call gently. She looks like a cornered animal and I don’t want to spook her. The pain across her face is enough to bring me to my knees.
“This is why,” Zinnie says tearfully. Her face is red and splotchy. “This is why you pushed me to let that man walk. Because he is just like you. I didn’t want to. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I trusted you. And for what? You are just like him.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You made me break my promise to my parents. I promised them they wouldn’t die in vain. That I would make sure the person responsible would pay for what he did.”
“Zinnia,” Finn says firmly and with a touch of warning.
“I can’t undo that. You turned me into her!” Zinnia yells, coming to her feet.
“Zinnia, that is enough.” Finn’s baritone cuts the air.
In this moment, I’m not sure what to do or who to comfort first.
“I trusted you.” Zinnie cuts deep one last time before running out of the restaurant. Finn calls her name and runs after her.
Before I can process or reach for Sam, Poppy darts through the tables after her sister. Her curls flying behind her, her eyes red from tears. She’s five. I have no choice but to chase after her, leaving Sam standing alone at the table.
A ping announces the arrival of the lift. It’s dark outside. Sam steps off, a shell of the woman she was this morning.
This morning. It feels like a lifetime ago.
Finn and I both finally caught up to the girls, and by the time we had them safely home, they were exhausted from the emotions soaring through them. Zinnie was so upset she vomitted, settling down only a couple of hours ago. Right now, Finn’s in the middle of my bed with the girls under each arm. It was the only way we were able to quiet their tears.