After Grandma’s announcement, Blake stole me away from the festivities, and we fucked our brains out in my childhood bedroom; the dress stayed put, and under the layers of tulle and lace, I came a multitude of glorious times.
Soon afterward, we reboarded the private plane. Though no longer blindfolded, I still had no idea where we were going. Blake still refused to tell me. And it was dark. Yet had it been daylight, I still wouldn’t know because I didn’t spend much time gazing out the window. My face was either buried between Blake’s thighs or hovering over a chair cushion while he rammed into me from behind. And in between fucking our brains out, I slept dreamily in his arms in an in-flight bed made for royalty.
I returned to the moment. As the South Seas sun disappeared into ocean like a ball of fire, a warm breath tickled my neck and a sultry voice swept me out of my delicious memories. Blake. My husband.
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
I felt something hard and cold drape around my neck. I looked down and gasped. Circling my throat was a strand of lustrous beads that hung down past my breasts. They were iridescent green—almost the color of my eyes—and had a pavé diamond clasp. I spun around. Leaning against the balcony, I soaked in my breathtaking man. Shirtless, he was wearing a pair of white sweats that hung sexily low on his hips and skimmed his perfect pelvic V. The tropical breeze ruffled his tousled hair and that dazzling smile lit his gorgeous sun-kissed face. I cupped my palms over his broad sculpted shoulders and searched his ocean-blue eyes.
“Blake, Christmas is not for another five months. What is this?” Whatever this exquisite necklace was, it was mega-expensive.
He adjusted the strand. “They’re Tahitian peacock green pearls—the rarest of all. I was going to give them to you last Christmas but—”
His voice trailed off, but before he could say another word, I crushed my lips against his. “Oh Blake, they’re so beautiful. I love you so much,” I gushed after breaking away.
With a yank of a string, he pulled off my bikini top. My breasts quivered under his lustful gaze. Grasping the rope of pearls, he began to slowly circle them around my nipples. At the erotic, cold touch of them, my buds hardened, and a hot rush of tingles blossomed in my core. Goose bumps spread across my flesh while wetness pooled between my legs.
“I want a proper thank you, Mrs. Burns,” he purred, now squeezing together my breasts with the strand. My eyes shot down. A big bulge dominated his sweats. Obviously, the pearls were multi-functional. My new piece of jewelry was his new toy.
As his mouth melted into mine, I slid down his sweats and then my bikini bottom. Fisting his wondrous cock, I glided it inside me.
“That’s better.” He winked as he began to pound me.
By the following morning, his cock had been many places. And so had my pearls.
Mrs. Burns had a lot to look forward to. Our honeymoon had just begun.
Epilogue
Blake
Christmas, Five Years Later
“Merry Christmas, tiger,” I said brightly after planting a loud wake-up kiss on my wife’s warm lips. My gaze stayed on her as she fluttered opened her eyelids. She looked like an angel, her mouth parted slightly, her porcelain skin flawless, her lustrous hair fanned out like wings, and her eyes dreamy.
She smiled. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
After five years of marriage, Jen had not converted to Judaism. But she had taken some courses at our family synagogue and was even studying Hebrew so she could read the prayers with me. And she’d become, thanks to Grandma’s mentoring, a wonderful Jewish cook—even able to make a Chanukah brisket as good as hers. The arrangement we had worked for both of us, and best of all, we celebrated all the holidays we’d each grown up with. I had to admit Christmas was my favorite.
Jen sat up slowly. Her still sleepy eyes glanced down at my hand. “What’s that you’re holding?”
A fiendish grin spread across my face. “It’s one of your Christmas presents,” I replied, handing her the small gift-wrapped box. A sparkling green bow topped the shiny red paper.
Carefully, she plucked off the bow and then tore off the wrapping. Excitement danced in her eyes as she beheld the black velvet box beneath.
“Come on, open it,” I urged. I couldn’t wait to see the expression on her face. This was a good one. God’s former gift to women was a genius when it came to giving gifts. Call me the gift that keeps on giving.
“Okay,” she murmured, snapping open the lid. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at the iridescent pink ring.
“Is this a piece of jewelry?” she asked, her tone perplexed. She lifted the ring out of the box and put it on her middle finger. I must say it went very nicely with the pink tourmaline heart-pendant necklace I’d given her our very first Christmas together. Except it was a little big. Okay very big. That’s because it was made for something super big. My cock.
I slipped the ring off her finger. “Baby, it’s a toy for you. A piece of jewelry for me. A cock ring.”
Her brows shot up. “A cock ring?”
Despite my giving her a battery-operated sex toy every Christmas (my little tradition), she was still so naïve it was adorable. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it’s going to make me bigger and more powerful.”
“But, Blake, you don’t need to be any bigger or more powerful.”
“Trust me, baby, every man can use a little extra something. And you’re just going to love the attached vibrating heart bullet.”
I’d done a lot of research looking for the perfect battery-operated accessory. Trust me, I was not the one-size-fits-all type of guy. The cock ring I’d finally found was made of a soft, stretchy material. It could expand as I expanded. Nice—totally worth the exorbitant price unless it was false advertising. I shoved the duvet down and there he was—Mr. Burns—commando and at attention, ready for playtime in our favorite playground. I’d woken up, as usual, with a mighty boner.
“Put the ring on me, tiger.”
Wordlessly, she took the ring from me and slipped it over my enormous erection. Her innocent green eyes met mine, begging for further instruction.
“Now slide it down to the base.”
Responsively, she edged it down with her deft fingers until it was right where I wanted it. It felt good—not too loose, not too tight. I flicked on the vibrator. The soft buzz sounded in my ear as I sat back on my elbows and flexed my knees.
“Sit on me, baby, facing the mirror.” In my extensive research, I’d learned that reverse cowgirl was the ideal position for maximizing the benefits of this little toy. It happened to be one of our favorite positions. And this magical toy was only going to make it better.
Guiding my cock into her, she did as bid. I had a bird’s eye view of her sweet ass and the beautiful curve of her back. Man, that delicious pair of dimples where the two met was so damn sexy. They fucking turned me on.
I began to thrust in and out of her, picking up speed with each long, hard stroke. I could feel my cock getting bigger, as if that was possible, swelling to epic proportions. A super-erection! My breathing grew shallow and I was working up a sweat. My buzzing cock was making me buzz everywhere. Jen reached her hands back and placed them firmly on my hipbones to hold on. This was one hell of a ride.
“Oh Blake,” she cried out, arching back her head. “This is amazing.”
Watching the two of us fuck in the mirror, I couldn’t agree more. Besides being so hot and wet, she was taking my cock to the hilt. I felt the tip pounding her womb with each powerful thrust—for sure hitting her magic spot—while the vibrating bullet attachment stimulated her clit. I always went many rounds, but my, I meant her, new toy was sustaining my erection beyond belief. Holy shit! This toy was the bomb. Seriously, I’d give it ten stars on Amazon if I could. As my tiger began to whimper on the brink of an epic orgasm, a loud knock-knock-knock sounded at the door. Shit.
“Mommy, Daddy! Wakey up! I wanna see if Santa came and left me pwesents.”
The other love of my l
ife. Our adorable three-and-a-half-year-old…Leo. My heart melted at the sound of his sweet little raspy voice.
“Coming, sweetie pie,” shouted Jennifer. “And so is Daddy.” Oh, fuck were we. On the next hard thrust, she convulsed all around me while I exploded like a stick of dynamite. Playtime was over. Time to unbig myself. Next activity. I couldn’t wait to open presents under our Christmas tree. To see my little man’s expression as he unwrapped his, and that of my tiger when she saw what I had in store for her. Ho! Ho! Ho!
*
Our majestic Christmas tree sat in the bay window of our large living room. Almost ceiling high, it was decorated with many of the ornaments Jennifer had collected as a child. We’d picked out the tree together with Leo and had decorated it over cookies and hot chocolate. Leo loved helping hang the ornaments as much as he loved helping light our Chanukah candles.
Right after Leo—named after my grandpa, Leonard—was born, I sold my Wilshire Corridor condo and found our dream house right on the beautiful, coveted street across from the Santa Monica Stairs where Jen and I worked out every weekend. While it was hardly the size of my parents’ palatial estate (something neither Jen nor I wanted), it was stately and spacious and reminded Jennifer of some of the large houses in Boise she she’d grown up around. There was a big grassy backyard, a gated pool, and a guest house where Jen’s parents stayed whenever they visited. Which was often. In fact, they were occupying it right now. Barely dawn, I was sure they’d be here later in the morning to share our Christmas festivities. Most Christmases, we traveled to Boise and Sun Valley, but this time, we needed to stay close to home. Just in case… So, Jen’s parents, never wanting to miss a Christmas with their beloved grandson, came to LA.
“Oh boy, Daddy! Looky at what Santa got me!” Leo squealed as he tore apart a huge box wrapped with whimsical snowman paper and a big bow. He could barely hold the package in his little hands. “Combat Wombats!”
“Wow!” I winked. “You must have been a really good boy.” Yours truly, Santa, had cleaned out the entire section of these bestselling toys. I’d bought him everything from action figures to the motorized Wombatmobile, which he could actually sit in and drive down the street.
Leo smiled broadly, his two cute dimples bracketing his mouth just like mine. “Will you play with me, Daddy?”
God, I loved that last word. And the way he said it. DAD-dee. And I loved being that man. I told him for sure after breakfast. Leo gleefully opened the rest of his presents—okay, I was spoiling the kid, but what the hell—and then Jennifer and I exchanged ours. She handed me mine first. It was monstrous and quite heavy. I carefully tore apart the exquisite metallic wrapping. At the sight of what was beneath, my eyes grew wide and my heart smiled. It was a framed oil portrait of Leo and me. I fucking loved it.
“Tiger, I love it,” I said, forcing myself not to say the f-word in front of Leo. I smacked my lips against hers. Leo was too busy playing with his new toys to notice.
Jen smiled warmly and brushed her hand through my hair. “I want you to hang it in your new office.”
That was a great idea. At the age of thirty-five, I was now the head of Conquest Broadcasting. I’d inherited my retired father’s expansive top floor office suite and had more wall space than I knew what do with. I knew exactly where I was going to hang it. Right by the entrance so I could look at it all day. I gently set the painting down on the antique rug. Now, it was my turn to give Jen her present. I handed her a small Christmassy shopping bag to which I’d attached a large SpongeBob “Merry Christmas” balloon.
“I know it doesn’t look like much.” My voice trailed off as she took the bag from me and removed a bright red eight by ten envelope. My eyes stayed fixed on her as she unfastened it and slipped out a single sheet of paper. Her green eyes widened and her jaw dropped to the floor as she read the announcement. The paper shook in her trembling hands.
“Oh my God, Blake. You bought back Peanuts?”
Peanuts was the children’s network she’d hoped to work at when she was first hired by my father, but he’d sold it just before she came on board. Jen had always dreamed of working in children’s programming but was forced to work for the porn channel I headed up. SIN-TV. What a fine job she had done. With passion and perseverance, she’d created a mega-successful women’s erotica channel, MY SIN-TV. But now, it was time for her to move on. And to have a family-friendly career. I’d closed the top secret deal only yesterday. Peanuts was officially now once again part of the Conquest Broadcasting media family. And it was going to be part of our little family too.
I held Jen’s stunned face in my gaze. “And, tiger, you’re going to run it. Get used to your new title: President, Peanuts TV.”
She gasped. A hand flew to her gaping mouth. Finally, she found her voice. A stammer. “B-but, who’s going to run MY SIN-TV?”
“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’m promoting Myles.” Myles Harding was my gay head of programming for SIN-TV, but I’d learned he’d been dying to work for our women’s counterpart. It was all going to work out perfectly. My tiger was finally going to have the chance to live out her dream and create her very own SpongeBob. And a lineup of programs that would make me proud—and our children elated. She was going to be our superhero. With my thumb, I tilted up her chin.
“Do you like your present, tiger?”
A huge smile adorned her face. “Oh, Blake, it’s the best Christmas gift ever.” She flung her arms around me and crushed her lips against mine. Our tongues danced joyously, and I became lost in our passionate embrace. A little voice broke us apart.
“Mommy, I’m hungwee.”
Jen flushed with embarrassment and excused herself to make breakfast.
While she toiled in the kitchen, Leo and I retreated to the adjacent family room where we cuddled together on the comfy over-stuffed couch. With Leo snug on my lap, I picked up the remote and clicked on the big screen TV facing us. Wouldn’t you know it…the SpongeBob Christmas episode was on—the very one I’d watched with Jen at her parents’ house—our fateful first Christmas together. Leo loved SpongeBob as much as Jen and I did. As was our ritual, the two of us sang the silly opening credits song together at the top of our lungs, shouting out SpongeBob SquarePants each time it was mentioned.
The episode began, and Leo instantly broke out into a cluster of giggles at one of SpongeBob’s hilariously endearing antics. His sweet laughter was contagious. Ruffling my little man’s unruly dark hair, I joined him.
My little cub. He was the spitting image of me. Except he had Jen’s incredible long-lashed green eyes. Every time I looked into them, I recalled the first time I set my eyes on Jen’s—the day I interviewed her for a job at SIN-TV. And how they’d mesmerized me and reduced me to a spluttering mess.
Grandma had said, “Blakela, you’re gonna get vun just like you.” She was right, and she vus wrong.
I was a holy terror as a child. But not, my Leo. I knew every parent boasted their kid’s the best kid in the world. But let me tell you, mine was. He’d been the perfect baby. Slept the night and was all smiles. And now he was the sweetest, smartest toddler in the world. Already potty trained. Number one in his pre-school. And definitely, the most popular kid too. Little girls fawned all over him. This kid was born a player. On the playground, he was already breaking lots of shovels and hearts. I was going to have to teach him a thing or two about love when he got older.
Leo was the perfect name for him. Born in July, he was definitely a lion. He ruled the playground; he ruled our lives. He roared when he cried; he roared when he laughed. His middle name was Ness, which meant miracle in Hebrew and indeed he was. A gift from God. Following Jen’s hysterectomy, Marcy had told us since Jen had been spared an ovary, she could still produce quality eggs. The problem was she couldn’t carry a child. Marcy turned us on to one of her colleagues—a top fertility doctor. And simultaneously introduced us to a very special surrogate who wanted to carry our child. On the very first attempt, one of my little swimme
rs fertilized one of Jen’s eggs via IVF—in vitro fertilization. The embryo was transferred to our surrogate and nine months later, we were a family.
Halfway through the cartoon, the tantalizing aroma of pancakes and sausage drifted in the air. I was famished.
Just as the episode wrapped up, Jen called out, “Guys, breakfast is ready.”
I set my little man on the floor. “C’mon, I’ll race you to the kitchen.”
Leo’s eyes lit up. It was another one of our rituals. I always let him win. I was raising him—or should I say, we were raising him to be a winner just the way my parents raised me. And instilling in him the value of going after what you want in life. So far, that was a lot of toys, cookies, and goodnight stories.
“Mommy, I beat Daddy again,” boasted Leo as he energetically ran into the large kitchen on his little pajama-clad legs.
A big smile beamed on Jen’s animated face as I feigned exhaustion with pants. What an actor I was! The one thing I never had to act out was climaxing with my tiger. Fortunately, Leo’s room was far away enough from ours so my tiger could still roar my name. And man, did she.
With breakfast already on the table, Jen swept Leo into her arms and smothered him with kisses. “That’s awesome, my sweetness.”
I eyed them proudly. Happiness filled every crevice of my body. I always knew my Jen would make a great mother and she was. And soon, there would be another cub to add to our den.
Joining them at the kitchen table, I couldn’t wait to dig into breakfast. I was ravenous. I reached for the bottle of maple syrup on the lazy Susan, and as I doused my sausage with it, my eyes met Jen’s. Ever since that breakfast over five years ago at Jaime and Gloria’s beach house, maple syrup made me horny as hell. It had the same effect on Jen. We read each other’s eyes. Yup, she was thinking what I was thinking. Right after breakfast, we’d have our live-in nanny take Leo for a ride in his new Wombatmobile down the street while we fucked our brains out and sent each other orbiting.
THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2) Page 14