Stuffed: A Thanksgiving Romance

by Jessica Gadziala

  Okay.

  So being beckoned by the guy you had been in love with for pretty much your entire life after believing for years that nothing could ever happen between you, yeah, it was pretty much a dream come true.

  And, having had first hand experience at how much better he was in reality than fantasy, my libido was trying to take control and let me throw myself at him.

  But we needed to talk.

  "Adam..."

  "Uh-oh," he said, smiling again. "Serious voice."

  "Well, this is a serious topic. I'm not moving, Adam. I'm looking for jobs here."

  "In graphic design."

  "It's what I went to school for."

  "You went to school for literature. Graphic design was your safety net. It was supposed to be something to get you by until you found what you really wanted to do." He took a couple steps further, making me have to resist the urge to retreat. "You can't live a life inside a safety net, Cal."

  "I can sure try," I said, smiling because I knew he was right.

  He smiled back, but smaller. "I get that you get nervous when things start changing or are out of your control. But you have to see that this, us getting together, then you losing your job, then your parents offering you to stay while you figured things out... you have to see this as fate."

  "Fate?" I asked, trying to not believe it, not wanting to set myself up for something that might not happen, not willing to let my feelings for him out of that tightly locked box inside until I was sure it was safe. "That's a little..."

  "Don't do that. Girls who have loved a guy since they were both kids don't throw it in his face when he shows up and says he feels the same way."

  And right then, those feelings I had, yeah they round kicked out of that mother effing box.

  "Did you just..."

  "Loved you even when I shouldn't have, Pip," he said, moving across the floor toward me. "Maybe life happened and it got pushed to the back of my mind, but it was always there. I just didn't realize it until you walked into that kitchen again. But it all came back with you standing there. You know, I worried growing up would change you, would make you into someone different than who I knew all my life. But you're the same girl, Callie. Just with a little more life experience and a slight potato chip addiction."

  A snorting laugh escaped me at that, glad he put some levity into an otherwise scarily intense declaration.

  Because, fact of the matter was, it was one thing to feel that way yourself. It was a complete other to realize the person you felt that for, felt that way for you as well.

  "You love me?" I asked, shaking my head at him.

  "Yeah, Cal. You love me too," he said, his body moving into mine, his fingers gliding up my arm then over my shoulder to settle at my jaw. "Come on. Admit it."

  "I love you too," I admitted, because, well, I did.

  "So, you see why it would be stupid to keep putting out applications in D.C. when we both know what you really want is to come back to Massachusetts with me and give this a shot."

  I did. I did see that.

  "But there are more job opportunities here," I reasoned.

  "I don't exactly live in the boonies, Pip. There are places to work by me."

  That was also true. He, my parents, my brother, and even my cousin all had good jobs in my hometown. Granted, all in varying fields. But that being said, any company with any level of success employed graphic designers.

  "In fact," he went on, both of his hands moving to cross over my lower back, pulling my body flush to his so that I needed to arch backward to keep looking at his face, "you know who I happen to know?"

  "I'm sure you're about to tell me," I said with a small smile.

  "Emily Andrews. And Emily happens to run a small indie publishing house." I felt my heart start to pound hard in my chest, making my pulse beat in unusual places- my temples, my throat, my wrists. "And when I talked to Emily, she said she happens to be in the market for new editors. That literature degree of yours that everyone thought was so useless... it happens to make you qualified to edit."

  No.

  No freaking way.

  No way was he friends with someone who could give me every book lovers dream job.

  "Alright, breathe, Pip," he said, chuckling slightly.

  "You got me a job?" I asked, my voice a strange, croaking sound.

  "Well," he said, shrugging a little. "I got you an interview. The convincing her to hire you thing is up to you. Though, I have complete faith that you will nerd-talk her into it."

  "Okay. I think I need to sit down," I said, my head literally feeling like it was spinning, putting all previous issues with vertigo to complete shame.

  Adam's arms squeezed me tighter. "I got you," he said, refusing to let me go. "It's everything you've ever wanted, Cal."

  He was right.

  I had always wanted a job that coincided with my love of books.

  And I had always wanted Adam.

  But somehow, inexplicably, having all my dreams come true was proving to be one of the scariest feelings I had ever known. Maybe because getting all you ever wanted meant that there was a chance you could lose it all as well. In a way, it was easier and safer to never reach for those things, to never know what it felt like to hold them and then feel them possibly slip through your fingers some day.

  "Alright, what's going on in there?" Adam asked, reaching up and tapping the center of my forehead.

  I let out a slow breath and gave him the truth. "I'm scared."

  "Of what?"

  "Getting everything I want and losing it again."

  Adam nodded a little, understanding that. "Look. A job, even a dream job, is just a job. It's replaceable. For every position you lose, there are a dozen others you could find. And me, well, I can't guarantee that we will live happily ever after. But I can promise you one thing, Pip," he said, leaning his head down, eyes intense, tone sincere, "you're never going to lose me." He let that sink in. And it did, down to my marrow. "Besides, I am under a threat to not hurt you by Cor."

  I felt my lips tip up at that idea, Cory never being the kind of brother to threaten boyfriends. He just wasn't that type. "What did he threaten you with?"

  "Arson. He will burn down my house," he said, grinning.

  "Why would he punish me for you being an ass?" I asked. "I love that house."

  "Knew you would. And when you come back, you can actually see more of it than the foyer, hallway, and master bedroom."

  "You better not have screwed up that library," I warned.

  "Just restored the wood. I think I only have enough books to fill one shelf."

  "That's blasphemous," I said, hands sliding up the material of his shirt, arms folding across the back of his neck.

  "Luckily for me, I know this girl who knows a lot about books..."

  I returned the warm smile he gave me, my heart swelling wide in my chest, the sensation so perfect it was almost painful. I went up on my toes as my arms pulled his head down toward me, my lips sealing over his, kissing him with every bit of happiness, confusion, excitement, and fear inside my body.

  His hands moved down, grabbing my behind and squeezing, pulling my hips against his where I felt his hard cock press into my stomach. A needy moan escaped my lips, muffled by his. Adam's fingers slid upward, snagging the hem of my shirt and dragging it up. My lips ripped from his so he could free me of the material; my hands going to his buttons to do the same for him.

  His hands went to my hips, turning me, and pulling my back against his solid chest, his hands whispering up my belly to cup my breasts, his fingers pinching and rolling my nipples until I shamelessly rubbed my ass against his cock, begging for relief from the torture. He released my breasts, his hands grabbing my pants and panties and dragging them halfway down my legs, giving me a second to step out before his palm cupped my sex, making my legs get shaky for a moment. I had to bring my arms up to wrap around the back of his neck to keep my feet as his thumb moved up to start stroking over my
clit. His middle finger moved down my cleft and slid inside me, a deep, low, rumbling sound vibrating from his chest.

  "Drenched for me," he said, nipping into my earlobe.

  "Adam, please," I begged, grinding down onto his hand.

  "Please what?" he asked, voice a sexy grumble.

  There was a time for making love.

  There was a time for sex.

  And sometimes, well, it was time for something else.

  "Please fuck me," I demanded, cheeks heating a little at using those words, and especially using them with him.

  There was a low, growling sound in his chest in response, his hand leaving my sex as his other hand moved to my shoulder and bent me forward toward my bed. My hands met the soft material of my girly comforter, my knees hitting the edge of the mattress, my ass in the air toward him.

  I heard the zip of his pants, the ripping of a condom wrapper, then felt his body move in behind me. His fingers slid down my sides over my ribs, making me shiver, then up over my ass, before I felt his legs cage mine in on the mattress. The head of his cock pressed between my thighs, sliding up my slick cleft and rubbing over my clit as my hips slammed back into him, needy, greedy for the feel of him inside me again.

  His cock slid backward and pressed against the opening to my body, just creating pressure for a long moment, until my hands curled into the sheets, until my hips started grinding against him, until I let out a loud whimper.

  Before the sound was even fully out of my throat, Adam thrust forward, his cock slamming impossibly deep.

  "Oh my God," I moaned.

  His fingers dug into my hipbones, borderline painful.

  There was no teasing, no build up.

  He pounded into me hard, deep, fast, using my hips to slam deeper, yanking me backward each time he thrust forward.

  "Mine," he growled, his pace getting faster somehow, my moans louder and more desperate by the second. "Finally fucking mine."

  I was.

  But I always had been.

  "Adam... I..."

  The orgasm ripped almost violently through my system, making me collapse forward onto the bed, body completely boneless and the waves kept crashing through me, my cries loud enough to disturb all my neighbors as Adam's body came down on mine, still thrusting until my body went completely slack and he came on a hiss.

  "Fuck," he said a minute later, lifting up his weight that had been crushing me. "Sorry," he said, nipping into my shoulder as he slowly slid out of me, gently slapping my ass as he moved into my bathroom.

  The low, short chuckle was all the proof I needed that he had seen my periodic table of elements shower curtain. He walked back out, his pants back up his legs, but left unzipped, making them sling almost indecently low on his hips. Chest just a little sweaty, hair just a little more rumpled than it usually was, he was the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my life.

  His eyes moved over me, making me painfully aware of my nakedness, but my body too sated to do anything about it.

  "I could get used to seeing you like this," he told me, sitting down beside me then laying back, tapping his chest. And, well, I didn't need any more encouragement than that. I pushed up on wobbly arms and rested my head on his shoulder, my chest on his chest. His arms went around me, one stroking through my hair, the other resting across my hips. "So?" he asked a long couple of minutes later, my eyes getting heavy.

  "So?" I repeated, tilting my head to look at his profile.

  "So are you going to stop being chickenshit and take the leap or what?"

  "I'm not chickenshit. I'm... cautious," I objected.

  "Use whatever synonym you want, Pip. It all just means scared."

  He wasn't wrong. "I just want to make sure we both know what we're getting into."

  "Cal, I literally know just about everything there is to know about you from how it took you until you were nine to give a bike without training wheels a try. Then, after falling off six days in a row, declaring that people were no more meant to ride on two wheels than fish were to walk on land and that you were never getting on your bike again. I know how you claimed to stage an anti-Valentine's Day protest every February, but you actually holed up in your father's study and read Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time. I know you hate mangoes and love junk food. I know that the first time you got drunk was when you were sixteen and that Cory had to come pick you up from where you were sitting inside a bathroom at the house of one of the kids you went to school with a fucking macaw that you named Paulie even though he kept telling you over and over that his name was Magoo..."

  "Magoo is a stupid name for a parrot."

  "And then when Cory opened the door and asked you why you were with a parrot in the bathroom instead of socializing with the kids your age, you declared the bird was smarter than the whole lot of them and was a better conversationalist. And then..."

  "You can stop there," I said, eyes huge, knowing the story that, while it started funny, went downhill from there.

  "And then you threw up, cursed tequila to the devil, and cried the whole way back to your parents' saying you were such a disappointing daughter to them for getting drunk while underage. Despite the fact that Cory and I rolled up drunk in that house more than a handful of times."

  "I can't believe Cory told you that," I said, shaking my head. "It wasn't one of my more glorious moments."

  "He thought it was hilarious."

  "Did you?"

  "Well, I think you renaming a thirty year old bird after knowing it two minutes was pretty funny. But, no, Cal. I actually thought it was sad."

  "Sad?" I repeated, pushing up on his chest to look down at him, brows drawn together.

  His hand raised, brushing my hair behind my ear. "It just wasn't you. You weren't the house party and getting drunk girl. I knew the only reason you would end up in that situation was because you were feeling shitty and decided to do something you never did- jumped over the cliff, blindly following the rest of the lemmings."

  I tried to shrug it off, but shook off that urge and gave him the truth. "I was lonely," I admitted. "All my life, I had you and Cory to tag after, even when I knew it ticked you guys off. But then you both went away to college and I realized just how alone and isolated I was. So, eventually, I decided to try to go out and do normal teenager things. I went to sports games. I went to school dances. And then I went to that party. That was the last time I tried, though," I said, remembering the massive hangover I had, suffering through a power walk my mother dragged me on, not saying anything about my drunkenness, but punishing me for it the way only a mother could.

  "You were never meant to blend into the crowd, Cal. That was the most amazing thing about you. You were your own person. And, for the most part, were that way unapologetically. That was why people like Amy picked on you. They didn't understand that. They were intimidated by it. So they tried to tear you down."

  I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat at even thinking about asking what I was about to. "Did you and Amy ever..."

  His loud, booming laugh stopped me mid-sentence, his body jumping under mine, making mine do so as well, his gaze on the ceiling for a long minute. "Honey, maybe I've been hard up in the past," he said, still grinning as he looked at me, "but I have never been that hard up."

  "She was sort of all over you," I said with a shrug, not wanting to seem like I was jealous.

  "Amy is not used to rejection so she doesn't take it well. Besides, while you and Cory might have been in the dark that I saw you as something other than a little-sister-type annoyance, I didn't fool Amy. She knew and she wanted to, I don't know, prove that she was better than you."

  "She's really gonna hate me now, huh?" I asked, smiling a little. "I got the dream guy."

  His smile went a little wicked then. "You had dreams about me, huh? How many of them were dirty?" My cheeks heated and he smiled wider. "In fact, how much do you want to bet there is a battery-operated device in this nightstand that you named after me?" he asked, mov
ing to roll and go reach toward the nightstand.

  "No!" I shrieked, trying to grab his hand. But he was faster. The drawer slid open, he reached in, and sure enough, he came back out with a baby blue vibrator I bought online several years back. It had served me well through the dry spells. His smile was victorious as he raised a brow at me. "Admit you thought about me while you pressed this up to your pussy on some lonely nights."

  "Adam..." I said, cheeks on fire.

  "Admit it, baby. I'll admit that it was you I thought about more times than I care to admit while I jerked off."

  "Oh my God, stop," I demanded, rolling off to my side and covering my burning cheeks in my hands.

  "Really, Cal?" he asked, his hand stroking down my bare skin on my side. "I've tasted you. I've been inside you. And you're still embarrassed to admit you touched yourself while thinking about me?"

  He had a point. But that didn't mean I had to face him when I admitted it. "Okay, I thought about you."

  "Hmm," he said and I heard the unmistakable buzzing of the vibrator turning on, my body stiffening in response. "Well, now I get to be the one doing the touching," he said, voice low, deep, promising.

  And then he did the touching.

  And I reaped the benefits of it.

  Three times over.

  THIRTEEN

  Callie

  "I'll start on the bookshelf," Adam called to me as he moved to grab a box that we had taped together that morning.

  I looked up from the tea I was fixing, watching his strong, perfect body move across my small living room in a pair of thick charcoal gray sweatpants and a rumpled white tee, is hair messy. It was messy because my hands had gotten all tangled in it when I woke up to him kissing down my belly then going down on me.

  It was a hell of a way to say good morning.

  And after, he gave me slow and sweet before getting up and running out to grab bagels and a coffee for himself seeing as I didn't keep any in my apartment.