by Amber Bardan
I look at her and am shoved back to that feeling of not being able to speak. “Then we’d better make ourselves a girl and even things up.”
Her grin slips, and she meets my gaze. She gets a pink glow. Her hand slides to her middle, and I know she’s picturing how I’ve already filled her up twice, and hoping it takes.
I’ve got six months more of pent-up fuel in my tank to knock her up with.
She sighs and opens the tube and rubs a tiny amount of gel on Oliver’s gums. “That should help.”
She leans down and plants a kiss at the top of his head. Her hair brushes my shoulder, and her scent mingles with Ollie’s. Together, they strike a punch to my chest that I know is the feeling that no matter where in the world we are—this means home.
“I’m going to freshen up.”
“Okay.” I smile at her and drag Ollie higher up my chest and hug him. His fist is back in his mouth, but his lashes lower. Her medicine is already helping him. She doesn’t need to freshen up in order to get back in bed with us, and we both know it.
She’s giving the two of us a chance at our own hello.
I appreciate the sentiment, but she could never interrupt a single moment of my life if she tried. She moves to the dresser, shrugs off the robe, and fishes in a drawer.
A groan tugs from my belly at the sight. My handprint is a perfect cum target on her round ass. Once I’ve got her nicely pregnant, I’ll have to give her another bright-red mark to give that a try.
She glances over her shoulder and catches where I’m looking. Her gaze flutters down, and she runs a hand over her rump where it’s still swollen. She seizes her lower lip between her teeth and winces.
I swallow. On second thought, maybe I got carried away?
Her gaze flies back to me, heavy and sultry. She releases her bottom lip and strokes her ass.
“Ouch,” she says with the evilest twist to her lips I’ve ever seen.
Nasty, little, fucking tease.
Yeah, I got carried away. Shouldn’t have hit her that hard. Now I’m going to have to fuck her constantly until it fades when it’s the holidays, and her parents are staying here.
She smirks, knowing me more than well enough to read my mind, then slips into the master bathroom. The sound of water emanates from the other room. Making me picture her soapy and dripping wet.
It’s only the precious treasure on my chest that can keep me from joining her. But not to worry, she can go ahead and get herself clean. I’m just going to get her dirty again later.
Then we can shower together.
A little snort sounds under my chin. I look down at Oliver, who’s sound asleep. Let myself have a few moments more cuddling, and brush my lips on his baby skin, before taking him back to his room.
I’d keep him in our bed all night but don’t want to get him off his routine. Libby’s mad for routine. Not to mention, I’m not even slightly done with Mummy tonight.
I get him all settled in his crib with one last kiss on his fluffy baby hair, then leave his room. Another door creaks down the hall.
My father-in-law stands in the guestroom doorway in striped blue pajamas.
He raises a hand but doesn’t come out. “Glad to see you home, son.”
“Thanks.” I wave back, chest tighter for the reminder that it hasn’t only been Libby praying for my safe return. I’m a lucky man with so much to come home to. “See you in the morning.”
He inclines his head and closes the door.
I return to my room and wait to give my wife her real holiday surprise. The one she really won’t see coming.
Chapter Four
I find the small red box I asked Mom to have ready before I even landed and shove it under my pillow.
My pulse trembles like the night I proposed. The way I love her continues to shock me every single day. We were kids that night. Eighteen. But our parents didn’t try to tell us to slow things down.
I’d warned Libby we’d get married, back when we were in pre-school. I held out only until she was legal. She’s three months younger than me, and at eighteen, those few months waiting for her to catch up felt like forever. I’m the only man she’s ever known, and she’s the only woman I’ve ever wanted to touch.
The bathroom door opens.
She walks into the room wrapped in a big, fluffy cream towel.
“Don’t bother putting on a nightgown unless you especially want me to ruin another.” I grin and pat the space beside me. “C’mere, I’ve got your present waiting for you.”
“Oh, yeah. Is it your belt again?” Her lips quirk, and she saunters closer with all her secret sauciness that only I am privilege to.
My heart back-flips. Fuck me. This woman. “Better.”
She lets out a husky laugh and shucks off the towel, before climbing in beside me. “Your belt’s going to be hard to top.”
This will.
With all her clean, naked softness so close it’s hard to remember that this really is important.
I take the box out from under the pillow and hand it to her. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”
Her lashes beat. Don’t think she expected an actual physical present.
She gifts me a smile and tugs at the bow, opening the box. Then she squints. “What’s this?”
She lifts out the silver key.
I can’t speak. My throat’s so thick with six months of things I’ve wanted to say. Wish I was good with words or a pen, like she is.
The best I usually manage is, “Miss you, baby girl.”
Except this time, I don’t plan on ever having to miss her again.
“It’s the key to Dad’s store.”
Her mouth opens wordlessly. She stares at the key, and I can see the conclusions forming, but she can’t quite believe it yet.
There’s a reason I had her move back to our hometown before I got here.
No more moving house. This one is it for us.
“I’ll start in the New Year, once we’ve had some time to ourselves.”
Her face changes color, pink first then red with rising emotion. “Is this real?”
Libby’s a proud military wife. She reminds me in every letter she writes that she’s honored to be mine.
But this year has been different for us.
“Are you sure?” She stares at me with eyes half filled with tears.
She knows what my job means to me. Enough to bring me to actually leave every time. But not anymore.
And I’m all good with this. I gave my best to my country, but now I can’t serve the way I used to, it’s time I give my best to my family.
To my perfect, patient, loyal, gorgeous wife.
She knew my injury would have repercussions, but we haven’t discussed how.
“Two-fucking-hundred percent.”
She slams the box and the key down on the side table and throws herself at me. I hug her, but the moment her curves hit me, hugging isn’t enough. I want to drown in her.
Need to shower her with all the affection she’s been missing and deserves.
I roll us over. “Honey, I hope you’re not sleepy, because I need to eat you for at least the next hour.”
She laughs, and I’m pretty sure her parents are going to hear more than Santa’s bells ringing out before Christmas morning.
But let her scream if she needs to. I don’t care anymore.
Tonight is all about her.
Her thighs spread underneath me, and her eyes get her lusty, dreamy look. I slide down her body between her legs.
Damn. She shaved while she was in the shower. Not the whole thing, just the underside, leaving me the sexy triangle I love above her pussy. Now her hairless lips shine with her arousal, and I’m going to eat it all.
“I love you so much, Matty.” Her soft words reach me before I can touch her.
I look up at her. “I love you, baby girl, with everything I am.”
She honors me with her love-struck smile. The one that’s a little lazy and completely fucking a
dorable.
“You’re never going to have a moment without me again.” I shove two fingers in her cunt, and she’s soaked.
Knew that would get her off.
Knowing that I’m here for good. She’s stuck with me for eternity and more. That’s what soul-mates do.
“Going to eat you and fuck you senseless every day until we’re a hundred and eighty.”
She moans, her tight pussy already clamping around my fingers. But she freaking better not dare come before I taste her.
I run my tongue between her folds. Her sweetness has my cock ready to tear through the mattress. But my cock will wait out the next hour just like I will.
I rub my tongue on her clit, under the hood where she can never take it very long. Her hips buck. She clamps around my fingers with a soft cry.
Her juices flood my face. I devour her, sucking as much of her pussy as I can into my mouth, but let her have this one easy. The next few orgasms she gets, will be much more punishing.
With that in mind, I slip a finger, all lubed up from her arousal, to the tight pucker of her ass.
She gasps and grabs a fist full of my hair as I shove it inside. There’s many, many naughty things she wrote me. Put all kinds of nasty ideas in my head. I’m not taking her ass tonight, but I’m going to spend the next couple weeks getting her ready for when I do.
I go back to tonguing her now oversensitive clit.
Her breaths shriek. I know from experience she gets more worked up each time she comes. I don’t rush this one. We have all the time in the world.
My finger moves in her ass.
She goes wild, squeezing my face to her pussy and grinding on me. I work her over until she begs, and her next orgasm has her shaking from her head to her cute little toes.
I’m not only indulging her fantasies for Christmas. I’m fulfilling them forever.
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Chapter One
The tequila burned a path of blazing hell-fire down her esophagus.
Charlie gasped and slammed the shot glass down on the bar. “Holy shit, why can’t we drink wine?”
Melanie gave the kind of dark seductive laugh that only a person with one-hundred-and-ninety-percent unapologetic self-confidence can muster. “Because tonight you’re a boss-bitch who just acquired a top Telco, and you can handle your damned liquor.”
“Not sure I’d put it quite that way.” Charlie wiped her mouth on her wrist. Halifax Communications made the acquisition. She’d simply done the grunt work.
And what grunt work there’d been.
Despite her preference for a crisp white wine, a little tequila might be the thing to hit the spot.
Melanie tapped the bar, then held up two fingers. The bartender refilled the glasses as promptly as if the two of them were the only ones there—despite it being a teeming Friday night with dozens of other patrons waiting to be served. But then Melanie had that effect on men in the service industry.
And that effect on men in general.
Lucky Melanie. Everyone should have a superpower. Melanie’s was man-mustering, and hers was well…
Did the ability to reason calmly with crazy people count?
Because these days that seemed to be the only thing dominating her schedule. Meeting with disgruntled person one. Meeting with disgruntled person two.
Pacify, mollify, apologize.
Repeat.
If only she could reason with the hundreds of people emailing abuse daily, for nothing more than doing the job she’d been ordered to do. She downed the next tequila, this time prepared for the lung-punch it caused.
“See, you didn’t even flinch that time.” Melanie winked one of her bright chocolate eyes, her whole face curling in mischief. “Now we can have some fun.”
“Aren’t we already?”
Melanie features morphed from wink to arched brow. “Not yet, we aren’t.”
She reached out and plucked at Charlie’s blouse.
Charlie glanced down at her gaping collar and newly viable cleavage. “What did you just do?”
Melanie held up the button she’d stealthily removed. “I knew you’d just do it up again.”
“That’s because I like my clothes on properly.” She yanked together the sides of the collar. If she hadn’t gained a few pounds the last few months with over-working and under-exercising, it might be fine. But those pounds went right to her bra.
Her bra which was now over capacity.
So it wasn’t fine—so not fine, she may get thrown out of the bar for indecency.
“I warned you when you decided to come directly from work you’d better not arrive in nun-habit.” She smirked and tossed the button over her shoulder.
“Excuse me, but there were nuns at my high-school and none of them wore pencil skirts.”
Melanie’s gaze flicked to Charlie’s thighs. “Actually I like the skirt just fine. Points for that. If I had an ass like yours I’d wear pencil skirts every damned day.”
Charlie laughed. “Glad my ass at least has your approval.”
What Melanie didn’t need to know was about the navy high necked sweater she’d left at the office to avoid just this kind of conversation. It wasn’t as though she didn’t like nice clothes, just that when you work fourteen hours a day, you dress for comfort.
And practicality.
And if she were being completely honest, none of the prettier things in her wardrobe were fitting presentably, or at all…so there was that.
Melanie glanced over her shoulder. “You remember the signals?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Single girls in a bar signals. Standard safety precaution. Scratch your nose if you’re fine. Double scratch if you’re so fine you won’t be sharing a cab ride home.
But tug your left earlobe and it’s a call for immediate evacuation.
“Can we buy you ladies a drink?” The voice came from behind her, and the reason for Melanie’s question became apparent.
“Sure. I’ll have a Moscato.” Melanie beamed. “And this buxom wench will have a Chardonnay.”
Buxom wench?
Charlie released her collar. Well, if she were going to let loose tonight, why not live a little dangerously? Just how long had Melanie been trying to organize a night out—months?
May as well make the most of it, since this was her first weekend off in recent memory. The two men slipped between them and ordered and paid for the drinks. Charlie shuffled over to make room.
“Paul,” the first bigger brawnier guy said, taking Melanie’s hand.
The other turned to Charlie. “Blake.”
“Charlie.” She extended her hand.
He shook her hand gently, and smiled. Blake may not fill his suit or loom the way Paul did, but even if they hadn’t apparently made their pick, Charlie would have gone for Blake. His smile lines gave him a happy charisma that made her smile right back.
“Celebrating?” Blake asked.
“How could you tell?”
Blake nodded to the empty tequila glasses. “I have a sister and a tequila night is always a celebration night.”
“Ah,” Charlie said. The bartender handed her the glass of Chardonnay. She didn’t drink, already feeling a little warmer than she’d prefer. “Well, you are correct.”
He set his beer down and leaned against the bar, cutting off her view of Melanie.
“What’s the celebration?”
Charlie leaned to the side. Melanie met her gaze and scratched her nose. “Work. We finished something we’d been working on for a long time today.”
He picked up his beer bottle. “Well, cheers.”
Charlie clinked her wine glass against the bottle. “Thanks.”
She raised the glass to her mouth. Her attention flicked across the bar, and caught. A man raised a glass, almost in time to hers, to his flat, hard, completely unsmiling mouth.
The wineglass clinked again
st her tooth.
Holy moly.
Heat moved into her cheeks. She’d thought just moments ago that her standards were realistic. Maybe not. Because the guy across the room would’ve caught the attention of every female in the vicinity—and he’d certainly caught hers.
Completely, just by existing. She couldn’t even pinpoint what it was. The bicep flexing his black t-shirt sleeve was certainly impressive, but what was it about his face, without an ounce of softness, that made her want to touch it?
“…you do?”
She blinked, returning her attention to Blake. Nice Blake who’d been perfectly pleasant, and even polite enough to have not glanced below her chin once.
What was the question?
Blake ran a hand through his pale brown hair, but all Charlie could think was how the guy across the room’s darker hair would be too short to grab hold of.
She took a guess at the question. What did she do for work? But for some reason the truth seemed too exhausting with nice Blake, who kept asking questions. “I’m a PA.”
He smiled. “That’s great.”
She should feel bad for the fib, but loathed president of a Telecommunications dynasty, just didn’t feel like the better answer.
Melanie peaked out from behind Paul’s shoulder and her finger brushed her nose twice.
Charlie held onto her slipping smile, and nodded. She hadn’t expected the girls part of the evening to end so soon. If this hadn’t been so last minute, she’d have preferred to have come out with a few more friends. Maybe gone somewhere a little quieter where you could hold a better conversation and order a cocktail.
Melanie and Paul slipped from the bar and headed towards the exit.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you, Charlie.” Blake clamped a hand on her upper arm then pulled a ten dollar bill from his wallet. “Why don’t you go ahead and get yourself another drink.”
She blinked. Had she missed something? Blake was leaving too?
He slapped the note on the counter, then headed off down the bar.