by Penny Wylder
“I want you inside me,” I say.
“That’s all?” He begins trailing his lips down my neck and across my collarbone.
I realize that he wants me to say it. “I want you to fuck me.”
He raises himself up, knees straddling my hips, and hands me the condom. “Then you do the honors.”
Seeing him tower above me with his perfect body and his cock rigid and straining for attention is an image I’m going to remember after he’s gone. Often. Hopefully with fully charged batteries. I take the condom from him and open it. I can’t help myself: before I put it on him, I have to touch him. He hisses out a breath as I circle him with my hand, head falling forward to watch me. I love the feel of him under my fingers, and I trace the veins running along his length while watching the muscles in his stomach jump.
Trevor reaches down and circles my hand with his, and I get the image of him guiding my hand, making me get him off. I see the same thought in his eyes, and I know it’s something we’ll revisit later. Instead, he raises an eyebrow at me and pulls my hand away. I slip the condom onto him, rolling it carefully down until he’s covered.
He doesn’t waste any time, covering my mouth with his and pushing me back onto the bed again. The kiss lights me up again, and he knows it. He resumes his trail down my body, kissing and licking and leaving spots of fire behind. He licks across one nipple, and I groan, the sensation of his tongue dragging across it racing down to my clit. “Trevor,” I say, out of patience. “I told you what I want.”
“In that case.” He jerks my hips towards him, fitting himself against my entrance. Slowly, so slowly, he slides inside me, and it’s been so long since I’ve had real sex that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be so filled up. I close my eyes, feeling him press in, and in, and in, until I’m so full of him I think I might burst. Until his slightest movement sets off tremors in my whole body. And still, I want him deeper. He slides out, and in again. Just a little faster, my body adjusting to the sheer size of him.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he says. I roll my hips against him and watch his eyes flutter closed, hear him groan. He slides in faster in response, and I wrap my legs around him. I pull him close and press him into me, his thrusts hitting that spot deep inside of me that makes me see stars. My hands on his ass, I speed him up. It’s not enough, not yet.
“I need more,” I say, and I hear him gasp. “I won’t break. Fuck me.”
I get my wish. His hands scoop underneath me, tilting my hips and holding me still as he pounds into me. I hold on to him, unable to do anything but feel as he fills me with his cock. He grinds against me with each stroke, and suddenly I’m on the edge. Everything is delicious friction and I’m caught between the pleasure in my clit and the pounding of his cock, and I can’t breathe. The pleasure in my body is overwhelming, and I’m sinking through layer after layer towards the brightness that’s at the end.
Trevor shifts my hips, and everything changes. What I thought was pleasure before was just the beginning. I go over the edge, moaning, trying to keep myself in check. My body shudders on his cock and my pussy spasms around him as he fucks, speeding up to his own climax. It’s only a moment before he’s swearing, his cock jerking inside me as I feel him come. But we can’t stop now, we’re still moving together, lost in this rhythm of movement as pleasure takes over our bodies.
I feel him slow, feel him breathing, but I can’t say anything yet, can’t open my eyes. He moves to the side, pulling me with him so that we’re lying together, still entwined, his cock still inside me.
“I never imagined it would be like that,” he says, breath still coming hard.
“Me either.”
A grin that reminds me just how young he is lights up his face. “You imagined me?”
I lean in and kiss him, slipping my tongue between his lips. I feel him stir inside me, hardening. Laughing, I say, “In many, many ways.”
“I look forward to hearing more about those ways. In graphic detail.”
I hear the shower running upstairs, and give him a look. “For now I’ll let you use your imagination.”
His eyes follow me as I untangle myself and get off the bed. “I plan to.”
“Put some clothes on,” I tell him. “I’m making pancakes.”
6
Trevor takes a quick shower in my bathroom, and by the time he comes out—sadly covered again in sweats and a t-shirt and smelling delicious—I have coffee ready and am already in the process of cooking the pancakes. He pours himself a cup of coffee and sits at the breakfast bar, looking completely normal except for the fact that he’s staring at my ass. I can’t seem to keep the grin off my face. Maybe my sisters are right and this is what I’ve been missing—though I’ll fall dead before I give them the satisfaction of knowing that.
I hear steps clattering down the stairs, and Brad appears in the kitchen followed by one of the twins. “Hey mom.”
“Morning,” I say, putting one platter of pancakes on the dining room table before flipping the one that’s cooking. I make a couple more and put them on another platter on the breakfast bar. Brad grabs the syrup from the pantry and slaps Trevor on the shoulder as he slides onto a stool. “Happy Birthday, man. I totally forgot about it, was reminded on Facebook this morning. I would have got you something.”
Trevor laughs, the sound sending a buzz through my skin and making my stomach flutter. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You should have said something, Trevor,” I say, scooping a few more pancakes onto the platter by him. “We would have gotten a cake, and definitely a gift.”
“I already had my birthday treat this morning,” he says, and I feel my eyebrows shoot straight into my hair. He takes a fork and lifts a pancake, toasting me with it. “Your breakfasts are legendary, Stella.” The wink that follows has me ready to throttle him and jump him.
Daniel trudges into the dining room, clearly less awake than his twin, but he manages to find the table and the pancakes all right. “Morning, Daniel,” I say.
I get something close to a grunt in response, and I’m reminded how thankful I am not to have a teenage son anymore. Opening the fridge, I grab jam, chocolate spread, and whipped cream. I place them on the bar in front of Trevor. “Well, since it’s your birthday, you should have more options than just syrup. Take your pick.”
I hear the shaking and spray of the whipped cream can as I go back to finishing the batter. Almost done.
“Dude, really?” Brad says. “Whipped cream—that’s what you pick when you have the chocolate stuff sitting in front of you? Why?”
“The same reason I put whipped cream on anything,” Trevor says. “So I can lick it off before getting to eat the rest.”
I turn to find him looking straight at me, and I flush at the same time I feel my pussy turn to liquid. I manage to pull my eyes away from him in time to save the last pancake.
“Whatever,” Brad says. “More chocolate for me.”
I turn off the stove and ferry the rest of the pancakes into the dining room as Bradley and June come down the stairs. “Morning everyone,” Bradley says, holding out a fist to Brad. “Namesake.”
Brad bumps his fist. “Namer.” It’s a little tradition they started when Brad was little. Once Brad noticed that he and his uncle had the same name, I had to explain that I had named him after Bradley.
The pancakes go over well, and everyone seems happy. “What are your plans for today?” I ask the room.
“We’re going to visit my family today,” June says. “We won’t be back until late. I hope that’s okay?”
I wave a hand. “Fine with me. Your vacation. We have plenty of time together before Christmas.”
“What about you?” she asks.
“I need to buy a Christmas tree,” I say. “Brad, you want to come with me?”
He winces. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
There’s a pang in my heart, but I don’t let it show on my face. “That’s okay. What have you got going on?”
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“Well…” he says, “I actually need to finish a paper. I got an extension on it and I have to turn it in tomorrow.”
“I see.” I put on my best mom face. “Tried to slip that one past me?”
“Unsuccessful as usual,” he says, laughing.
I take another bite of pancake. “As long as you finish. But you’re on the hook for decorating the tree with me tomorrow.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Trevor swivels around on his stool. “I’ll go with you to get the tree.”
My heart flies up into my throat. “Are you sure?” I say. “It’s a long drive, and you’re on vacation. Plus, it’s your birthday.”
“I’m sure,” he says, grinning. “I have nothing to do and I can help you wrestle the tree into submission.”
“All right,” I say, taking my dishes to the sink. I collect the rest of the dishes, switching the clean and dirty dishes in the dishwasher and listening to the bustle of my brother’s family getting ready to leave.
An hour later I’ve showered, changed, and kissed Brad goodbye. Trevor is waiting outside for me by my car, and my god he looks fantastic. Peacoat, jeans, hat, and boots. He’s a fucking model. He smiles when he sees me. “Road trip?”
7
The Christmas tree farm is on the outskirts of Boston, and it takes an hour get there on a good day. But today is a good day for driving, and we’ve been passing the drive in pleasant, radio-filled silence, until Trevor looks over at me. “Can I ask you a question that’s personal?”
A bubble of laughter escapes me. “I think after what we did this morning there’s very little left that you can call personal.” He keeps looking at me, face serious. “Sure, go ahead.”
“Who is Jackson?”
I suck in a breath at the unexpectedness. That’s the last name I expected to come from Trevor’s mouth.
“I heard your sister mention him yesterday, and if I’m stepping on someone’s toes when it comes to you—”
“Jackson is Brad’s father,” I say, interrupting him.
It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the car. I try not to think about Jackson whenever possible, because it’s the nagging scar that never heals over. But when my family is around it always seems to get brought up.
Trevor shifts uncomfortably. “Oh. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” I say, aiming for a carefree tone and missing completely. “Umm…we met when I was eighteen. He was my first love—handsome and charismatic. We fell in love really fast, and moved in together right after graduation.”
I leave that hanging in the air, because if that had been the end of the story my life would be very different.
“What happened?” Trevor asks softly.
I consider not telling him, hiding the fact that I’m almost forty and haven’t gotten over something from twenty years ago. But everyone else knows, and with my siblings, he’ll probably find out just by listening. I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat. “Jackson wasn’t actually a very nice guy. He was rude and possessive, demanding. There was very little I did that made him happy, and he was angry a lot. But when he was loving it was like the sun came out, and it made up for all the bad. I loved him, so I explained it all away, and I stayed. He’d had a hard life, and I felt he had a right to be all the things he was.
“The day I told him I was pregnant, I don’t think I’d ever seen him so happy. Things were good for a while. But we were nineteen and poor. Bills piled up from my doctor appointments and things for the baby, and it only got worse when we couldn’t…have sex because I was too sick or too pregnant.”
I glance over at Trevor. “Brad wasn’t the easiest baby to carry. I was sick most of the time. Jackson was home less and less, was angrier when he was home. And a few weeks before Jackson was born I came home from the store to find all of his things gone.”
We sit in silence for a while, an overly cheery Christmas carol playing on the radio.
“I haven’t seen him since,” I say softly.
Trevor doesn’t say anything. But then, what is there to say?
I jump when I feel his hand take mine, and I don’t fight it when he weaves our fingers together. We ride the rest of the way in silence, hand in hand. I try not to dwell on the past and the sadness it still brings me, but the memories come anyway. Of being shuffled between the houses of my aunts and uncles, of Brad crying and asking why he didn’t have a daddy when everyone else did, of the loneliness and hardship of parenting alone.
By the time I pull into the farm I feel down, the same way I always feel when this spiral of thoughts catches me. There aren’t many cars here, which is good. It will make it easier to pick a tree if there are less people vying for the good ones. I put the car in park, and before I can even turn the car off, Trevor is out of his seat. He’s standing in front of me on my side of the car when I open my door. He closes the door for me, and wraps his arms around me. It’s unexpected, and welcome. I feel myself relaxing into the warmth of this embrace.
“I’m sorry I asked,” he says. “It’s obviously not a fun thing to relive.”
“No, it’s not.”
He pulls back far enough to see my face. “No one deserves that,” he says. “Especially not you.” The kiss he places on my lips is chaste and sweet, and something tugs inside my chest. A yearning for this kind of simple intimacy. He releases the kiss and takes my hand again. “Let’s find the prefect tree for your house.”
Finding the tree is one of my favorite things. I love these fields filled with trees that vary from tiny young trees to ones that might be older than Trevor. The air is clear and crisp, the sun blinding on the snow. “Come on,” I say. “I’ve always found my favorite trees at the bottom of the hill.” I gesture towards the back of the farm. The farm itself covers several acres, including a giant hill that’s a shame isn’t available for sledding. But in the little area at the base of the hill is where I’ve always managed to find a tree that calls to me.
“Let’s go then,” Trevor says, suddenly grinning. Keeping a firm grip on my hand, he starts running, pulling me through the trees and snow towards the base of the hill. My feet are sliding all over the place as I try to keep up with him, the snow getting deeper here. The cold air is burning in my lungs and tears are pooling in my eyes because of the brightness. But at the same time, there’s a smile on my face, Trevor’s joy leaking out of him and into me lifting me out of the pull of dark thoughts and memories.
We reach the bottom of the hill and Trevor stops so suddenly that I slam into him, have to cling to him to keep from falling face first into the snow. “Look at that,” he says. The hill is right in front of us, stretching upwards and covered in various sized fir trees. But between us and the trees is a huge swath of ground, the snow perfect and unblemished, brilliantly white. “There is no way we’re not making snow angels in that.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
“I never joke about snow angels,” Trevor says, pulling me after him again. We run up the side of the hill right into the middle of that perfect snow, and then Trevor release my hand, throwing himself backwards into the snow. He moves his legs wildly, back and forth, creating the classic snow angel shape and showering me with snowy bits. I try to shield myself, but it’s no use.
I follow his example, letting myself fall back and be caught by the snow. I don’t remember the last time I made a snow angel. Maybe sometime with Brad when he was younger. Trevor scrambles up, and reaches out, pulling me out of my angel. They’re side by side, Trevor’s comically larger because of how much taller he is.
“Come here.” Trevor pulls me to a fresh patch of snow, and I fall into it, but this time Trevor comes with me. He grabs my hands, and together we make a snow angel. Real angels would be blushing because of the kind of kiss we share making that angel. Our tongues tangle together and my body warms in spite of lying in the snow.
“We’re going to melt the angel,” I say, a bit breathlessly.
“Good point.” H
e struggles to his feet.
I try to get up, but slip and fall face first into the snow drift next to our angel. Trevor’s laughter rings out across the hill as he tries to help me out of the snow. I come up covered in it, crystals clinging to my hair and drops running down my face. “Now you’re the snow angel,” he says, and leans in for another of those sweet kisses. His tenderness is throwing off my balance, because I can’t seem to keep on my feet now. On the way down the hill I keep falling, and Trevor does his best to catch me, though I usually end up in the snow.
Crossing back into the rows of trees, I slip again. Trevor manages to get his arms around my waist, and he drags me against him, laughing. Then I’m laughing too, and I can’t remember the last time I had this much simple fun. I tug Trevor’s face down to mine, unable to keep myself from kissing him in this moment, because I feel bubbly and happy and free. Even if I were to only have this day with him, I know right now that I will never regret it.
He kisses me back, slow and soft, until I forget where we are and why we came here. It seems like an eternity has passed when I open my eyes and find him looking down at me. His mouth quirks up into a smile. “We still need a tree.”
“Right.”
And we do find a tree, right where I always do in the hollow at the base of the hill. A perfect little tree that will go nicely in the corner of the living room. Trevor makes the trek back to the edge of the farm to get one of the workers, helps him cut it and bag it and strap it to the top of my car. By the time we’re pulling back into my driveway, I don’t think I could wipe the smile off my face if I tried.
8
The tree fits perfectly in the living room, and even though my arms are scratched all to hell from wrestling way too many strings of lights onto it, it looks gorgeous. The lights we used are all white, and even without the ornaments, it’s pretty. I made some hot chocolate, and I turned off the lights are stared at it for a while. Brad had to explain to everyone that I do it every year, but they didn’t ruin my moment.