by Alexa Riley
“He’s still our baby,” Phillip says, and I feel the smile in his voice.
Taking a deep breath, I try to enjoy the moment “I’m being ridiculous. I know.”
“Never. He’s getting so big so fast.”
Looking around the room, I see our friends helping celebrate our baby’s first birthday. There are a lot of parents with their kids who are running around and having a good time. This is a happy occasion and I’m spending it crying. I didn’t realize how emotional this was going to be, but I guess seeing my little man turning one has hit me harder than I expected.
Noah’s happy face makes me smile, and feeling the warm security of Phillip’s arms helps me relax. I know we’ll have more children, but he’ll always be our first. And he’ll always be my baby. No matter how old he gets.
“Molly?”
I turn my head and remove the toothbrush from my mouth. Phillip is standing in the bathroom entrance, looking at me nervously.
“What is it, baby?” I ask, rinsing my toothbrush and putting it back in the holder.
He comes into the bathroom, meeting me halfway, and puts something in my hand.
Before I look down at what it is, he’s kissing me, and I’m lost to his warm lips and tongue. I always forget myself when his mouth is on me and this is no exception. When he pulls away, I lean up, trying to get more, but he puts his hands on either side of my face.
“You’re almost a week late. I think you should take that.”
I’m confused for a second and then look down at the pregnancy test in my hand. I want to laugh at the absurdity. Phillip always knows about my cycles better than I do, but this would be impossible.
“I think you’re mistaken. I just stopped nursing Noah a week ago. I doubt it happened that fast.”
“You can conceive even when breast-feeding. You’re still producing milk, but your cycles have been pretty regular, even when nursing.”
Rolling my eyes, I take the test from him and go over to the private toilet in the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. There’s no way I’m pregnant. I know Phillip would be ecstatic if we had another baby, and I would, too. But I think I would know if I was. Although, he’s been trying his best to knock me up since the day we met. It took so long with Noah that I’m sure it will be a while before I’m able to conceive again.
I’ve been so emotional the past couple of weeks and I just chalked it up to no longer nursing Noah. As I sit down and pee on the stick, I start to run through things in my head. I don’t want to get my hopes up because I know being pregnant right now is a near impossibility.
But as I finish up and walk out of the room, I’m in a fog of hope. What if this is it?
Phillip is standing by the sink with his arms out, waiting on me. I go to him, placing the test on the counter in front of us. His warm arms engulf me, and suddenly, I’m completely safe. Nothing can touch our family and all’s right with the world. All my worries wash away as I feel him hug me close and place a kiss on the top of my head.
Closing my eyes, I don’t think about what could be. I only think about what is. How perfect our life is and how lucky we are that Noah is a healthy baby. The thoughts of what could have been, how off-track we could have gone, start to flit through my mind, but they are easily dispelled by all the love that surrounds us. There’s no room for dark thoughts about what could have been when we are exactly in the right place. What led us to this moment doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we are together.
“Come to bed, my love,” Phillip says, pulling me from the bathroom.
“What about the test?”
He doesn’t say a word as he turns off the light and takes me out to our bedroom. He picks me up and places me in the middle of the bed. He slowly strips me out of my sleep shirt, which used to be one of his, and my panties. He kisses up my thighs and back down to my feet, loving every inch of me. Thoughts of the test are in the back of my mind, but he’s doing an excellent job of distracting me.
I feel him everywhere, kissing my toes and running his fingers slowly across my naked skin. I feel his warm chest move over my body, and I realize that is also naked. I’m in a sensual fog of lust and only focusing on the here and now.
When his mouth moves to my hip and his tongue softly traces the lines there, I try not to get shy. Instead, I just focus on how good it feels. When I was pregnant with Noah, I got a lot of very noticeable stretch marks. I’d never had them before, but the ones from carrying such a big baby were so red and deep. I was worried Phillip wouldn’t think I was pretty like I used to be, but I was wrong. He tells me how I’m more beautiful now than before and how they show him what I went through to give us a family. Every time we make love, he pays reverence to them and to me.
When his tongue moves lower, between my legs, my thighs fall open without a hint of hesitation. He has had every inch of me, and he can continue to have it if that’s what he wants.
His mouth licks me in the places he knows so well, in the exact rhythm that I love. There’s no finesse and no teasing. Just his mouth on my pussy, taking an orgasm from my body. I hardly move. I just lie there while he sucks on me until I’m close. And when I’m there, my back stiffens and I cry out, feeling the bone-deep pleasure run through me. It’s exactly what I need and I didn’t even know it.
“How do you always do that?”
“Do what?” he mumbles, kissing his way up my body.
When he gets between my legs, he doesn’t make a move to push his cock into me. Instead, he just hovers over me, looking down into my eyes.
“Always give me what I need before I even know I need it?”
His smile is a little cocky, and it makes me smile, too. Though I can feel that mine is lazy and a bit dazed after the climax he just gave me.
He doesn't answer. He leans down and takes my mouth, letting me taste myself. His kiss is as possessive on my lips as it was on my pussy. He consumes me and I just lie there and take it. His body moves and his cock presses against my opening. With one full thrust he’s inside me, filling me up. This is what we both need. Coming together as one to reconnect our bodies and souls. As silly as it sounds, he’s my soul mate. I know without a doubt that I waited my whole life for him. And I’m glad I did because he was worth the wait.
Our love-making is slow and easy, without any rush. Phillip takes the lead as he gives me endless amounts of pleasure. I cum so many times I lose count, but he demands more and more. Finally, when I’ve nearly passed out from all the orgasms, he floods my pussy with his cum and allows himself the release.
We lie there quietly, wrapped around one another, and I’m about to drift off when Phillip whispers into the dark.
“If it’s a girl, I’d like to name her after you.”
“Hmm?” I’ve nearly drifted off when his words reach my ears.
“I saw the test before I brought you to bed. I was right. As always.”
Epilogue
Phillip
Six years later…
“One, two, three, four…”
“Dad, why are you counting?”
I grit my teeth because Noah is sitting beside me and I don’t want to cause a scene. We’re at MJ’s soccer game and I don’t want to embarrass her.
“Nothing, son,” I say to Noah through a clenched jaw. Instead, I watch carefully as MJ’s coach talks to Molly on the sidelines, leaning in a little too closely for my liking. He’s always smiling at her, acting all friendly, but today it’s getting obnoxious. He’s leaning in and laughing at everything she says, and it’s pissing me the fuck off.
MJ’s our almost-five-year-old daughter, named after Molly. We started calling her Molly Junior when she was born, and MJ just sort of stuck. She’s currently on the field deciding between picking flowers and tackling the other kids, but she’s having a blast.
The only problem seems to be coming from her over-friendly coach.
Molly mentioned in passing the other day that the coach sends a lot of emails and it was a little an
I started watching him around her and making an effort to always be by Molly’s side whenever the games were going on. I trust my wife, and I know that she would never cross a line, but this motherfucker needs to watch himself.
He reaches out and places his hand on her upper arm, giving it a squeeze, and I glare at them when I see it happen. I’m up off the bench before I know it.
I see Molly take a step back at the contact, and that enrages me further. She doesn’t like anyone touching her but me. And neither do I. I’m the only one who gets to touch her, even in the most casual way. She’s mine. In every fucking sense of the word.
“Touch my wife again and you’ll be writing letters to your mom with your toes.”
His look of shock on his face should be comical, but I’m seeing too much red to appreciate it. I feel Molly put her hand on my lower back, and I relax a little, but the anger is still boiling inside of me.
“Excuse me, Mr. Tanner. I didn’t mean to offend—”
“Keep your hands, and your email, to yourself.”
Another man comes up from the sidelines and steps in front of the coach, getting between us.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d step back from my husband before there’s a scene these children don’t need to witness,” the man says.
I look over his shoulder to the coach, who’s now blushing violently.
“Phillip,” Molly says from behind me, “this is Brad and his husband, Ron. They invited us over for a cookout this weekend. I was just telling him that we’d love to attend.”
I’m unable to say anything, so I just nod. I feel Molly peek around me and wave to Brad and Ron.
“We’d love to get the kids together if you’re still interested. Let us know.”
Before I can apologize or say a single word, Molly is pulling me back into the stands with Noah.
“Well, that went great,” she says, letting out a little sigh.
“He shouldn’t touch you,” is all I’m able to grumble as Noah and Molly fall into fits of laughter.
She leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek and all’s right with my world. How is it that this woman can give me exactly what I need, exactly when I need it?
Wrapping my arms around her, we watch the rest of MJ’s game and I offer a wave of apology to her coach after the game. He may not have wanted my Molly, but I’m not taking any chances. She’s mine until the end of time, and I’ll make sure no one and nothing stands in my way.
THE END
Noelle's voice has captivated Alex, and she's become his greatest obsession. Since he hired her to read audiobooks, listening to her is the only thing that makes his lonely world bearable. Thank God she's never seen him. His scars would only scare her away.
Alex has starred in every fantasy Noelle's had since she first heard his voice over the phone, and reading erotica samples to him only fuels her desire. Listening to him on the other end of the phone is the best part of her day, and she's willing to do anything to please him.
On Christmas Eve a storm comes through, sending Noelle in search of her reclusive boss. Once she's at his cabin with no place to go, there's only one way to keep warm.
Warning: This is the sweetest, cheesiest, most Christmassy book ever! It's filled with late-night confessions, dirty deeds, and a lifetime of love. If you love this time of year, I've got some cheer for you!
Chapter 1
Noelle
“‘Please,” she begged. “I need to feel you inside me now. It’s been too long.” Annabelle pleaded with Sam before taking matters into her own hands, grabbing his hard cock and guiding it to her wet pussy. Wanting to make them whole once again, to never be apart from the only man she’d ever loved. Would ever love.
“I’ll give you what you want. Just give me what I want,” Sam demanded, pulling back just a little from her, the head of his cock barely touching her opening. She knew what he wanted, and she was sick of fighting these feelings. She’d find a way to make them work, no matter how different their worlds were.
“I love you. Only you.” She gave him the words he wanted because they were true. She knew it down to her soul.
Samuel thrust home into her welcoming body, his hard cock just as hungry for her as he was.”
The heavy breathing through the phone pulls me from my narration “Mr. Lockwood, are you okay?”
“Alex,” he grunts, sounding irritated with me. “Say it.”
“Alex,” I whisper. He’s been correcting me for months now, but for some reason I always still say ‘Mr. Lockwood.’ It reminds me of who he is—that he isn’t a friend I’m talking to on the phone. He’s a client and nothing more, no matter what my late-night fantasies tell me.
I hear a grunt, then the line goes quiet. I wonder if he’s mad at me, and I inwardly curse myself. I had steady work before I started narrating books for his company, All for You, but with him offering me more and more projects, he’s been my only client for well over two months now. It sounds silly, and I’m sure I can get more projects elsewhere, but I like working for him. He handles things a little differently than most clients I work with, but I like his way. Seems I like a lot of things about Alex, despite knowing very little about him.
The silence hangs in the air as I wait for him to speak again. His words do things to me. Things they shouldn’t. I’ve somehow latched myself onto him recently. Waiting for our daily calls has now become a little bit of an obsession, one I’m sure my mother would tell me was just as unhealthy as my lack of a social life.
“Hmm,” I mumble, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. I can’t bear the tension, but all I hear is his heavy breathing, something that reminds me of the many erotica books I’ve read. The hero would breathlessly pant into the heroine’s ear after a hard round of sex. It’s a sound I’ve never actually heard myself, but I find myself imagining what it would be like if Alex made the sound in my ear, his body on top of me.
“I think that’s enough for today,” he finally says, his deep voice rolling over my skin like a warm rough caress, like it always does when he speaks to me. If anyone one should be narrating a book, it’s Alex. He has a voice like I’ve never heard before, and I’ve heard many in my line of work. Voices that are supposed to be the best aren’t anything special compared to his.
“Okay, Mis— Alex,” I correct myself quickly, once again making myself look like an incompetent fool who can’t remember anything. “I’ll have the Scott book sent over this afternoon. Just a few more touches and it will be finished. Then I’ll start on this new one, if you liked the sample I just did.”
Alex likes to do the samples over the phone and also likes to check in daily on my project status, something that’s not normal with audio work. Almost everything could be done over email, but Alex says he likes to do it this way. For what he’s paying me to voice audiobooks, I’m happy to jump through hoops for the projects. Okay, that’s only partially true. I would jump through the hoops, but our phone calls mean more to me than just work.
Sometimes our calls dip into personal life, mainly about me and my life. Every now and then, I find myself rambling on, and he just listens. Maybe he’s really polite and feels sorry for me for having to carry on conversations with someone who is virtually a stranger. Though he doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore.
“That sounds perfect. I have a lot going on tomorrow, so I want this taken care of tonight and off both our to-do lists,” he says, slipping back into business talk. It’s crazy how he does that. Sometimes I wonder if maybe he has a crazy sex life, because my narrations always seem to run on the dirty side and they never affect him.
I usually end up in a pile of goo when we we’re done, with hard nipples and wet panties. We’d hang up and I’d have my hand down my pants before the line even cleared. It wasn’t narrating the books that turned me on. I’ve been doing romance narrations for years. Normally I did them alone so no one would hear. But somehow, reading aloud to Alex has me beyond turned on. It could be that the pieces he selects for samples are always the dirtiest parts, or it could just be him.
I told myself it was because Alex was playing with me. I thought maybe he even had a little crush on me like I did him, but after time went on, he never seemed affected. He never tried to be more friendly to me like I was with him, and after a while I thought maybe I made it up in my head. My mother always told me I live too much inside myself, and it seemed to have happened again. I’d built something up in my mind that wasn’t really there. Worse, the thought of not having this interaction anymore was terrifying in some weird way.
“Okay. I’ll send the file right over.” I try to keep my tone just as causal as his, but I’m still chewing on the fact that he has a lot going on tomorrow. It’s Christmas, so I should expect him to be busy. All I have planned is a TV dinner and Netflix.
“Have a merry Christmas, Noelle.”
“You too, Alex.” I hit End on the call, promptly wanting to disconnect from him. I drop the phone onto my desk and bring up my emails. I want to go ahead and send the file, but my internet won’t connect. After restarting the modem and my laptop, I make my way over to the window while everything reboots.
It really is a perfect Christmas Eve. Snow has already begun to fall, and the Christmas lights on my tree behind me reflect in the window. It’s as if they’re mocking me. My house is decorated like I’m hosting a Christmas party tomorrow. There isn’t a spot that isn’t covered in some kind of Christmas decoration. Why I do this to myself, I have no idea.
I’m an introvert and always have been. I made a couple of friends in college, always preferring to have my nose deep in a book. But since then they’ve dropped off one by one, slowly losing contact over time. No one wants to be friends with the girl who rarely leaves the house.
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