Christmas Morning ~ Eighteen Months Later
I BASK IN THE SOUND of Tara’s whimpering moans.
She’s tied to the bed, collared, clamped, and blindfolded, begging for release. Her blonde hair fans over the pillow as I hold her hips and slide slowly in and out of her. I keep a leisurely pace, taking my time bringing her higher. I know she needs this. Needs the overabundance of attention. She’s been so busy with rehearsals that we’ve barely seen each other in weeks. My little starlet is making a name for herself, landing a leading role in an off-Broadway play. I couldn’t be prouder, but I’m totally selfish and miss our time together. Not that it’s all her fault; I have my work too, which is just as demanding, but I’ve learned to balance. There’s no such thing as balance in the entertainment industry. It’s demand, demand, demand, with no other option but to give it your all. I always thought it would be my career that would be taxing on a relationship, but I guess I never met a woman who had just as much drive as I do. We’re still navigating the waters, but I know we’ll figure it out.
Tara moans louder as every move of my hips brings her closer while the clamp wreaks havoc on her body. I smooth my hands over the inside of her thighs and spread her folds so I can see her entire slit, see the inflamed little nub redden against the abrasive teeth of the metal and watch as my cock glistens with her surge of arousal.
“CJ, please.” She begs so earnestly.
“Please what, shortcake?” I toy with her.
“Harder, faster.” She breathes harshly, her muscles tightening around me like a velvet vice.
“Ask me again.” I push into her deeper.
“Please!” She gasps, arching her back, the chain pulling tight across her chest. Tara’s pussy contracts and it feels like an electric shock. I fall forward, clenching my jaw, fighting to keep control.
“Oh, godddd.” She squirms in her restraints, going crazy with lust. “I need you.” She grinds against my cock.
“You need me? How much?” I heave.
“So much.” Her voice is a strained whisper.
I groan into her neck. She knows how much her words turn me on. Tune me up.
“Who is the only man who touches this body?” I pound into her harder.
“You.”
“Who is the only man who kisses this mouth?” I bite her bottom lip.
“You!”
“Who is the only man who makes you come?”
“You! You! Only you!”
“You going to come for me, baby?” I abuse her body, slamming into her over and over.
“You’re the only one I come for!” She barely forces out the words as she wails, cracking wide open and drenching my cock.
I buckle right along with her, grabbing the top of our curved headboard, coming savagely.
Tara moans unintelligibly, still tethered to the bed, as I rest my head on her chest and recuperate. God this woman, I smile inwardly, is mine, all mine.
After a few minutes, Tara stirs, emitting an uncomfortable sound. I know what she needs, so I kiss my way down her demolished body and gently release the clamp from her clit, licking it as blood rushes back to the grieving little piece of pink flesh, which tastes best right after she comes. She sighs agonizingly, dropping her knees. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
“Again?” I ask, flattening my tongue against the sensitive little bundle of nerves her crease has become. “You horny little girl.”
“It’s your fault,” she accuses me as she moans.
“I’ll plead guilty on all accounts.” I bury my face between her thighs and concentrate the tip of my tongue directly on her piercing, flicking it relentlessly. Tara’s body pulls taut in her restraints as the pleasure takes over. She lifts her legs, spreading them wide, and rocks against my mouth as I lap her up. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” she chants continually, her breathing choppy until she finally hits a brick wall and ruptures. I sink my tongue into her flooding entrance and savor every drop as she spasms; the juice of her arousal running down my chin.
Tara’s body gives out once the climax passes, leaving nothing left of her but a demolished wreckage on the bed.
I wipe my face on the inside of her thigh then climb up her torso.
“Fuck, baby, that was so hot.” I grab my now straining cock and plunge my tongue into her mouth. She kisses me weakly, tasting herself on my lips.
“I have to fucking come again,” I tell her as I stroke myself above her restrained, blindfolded body. I jerk hard, taking in her helpless state, her flushed skin, and her pouty lips. I kiss her again as the sensations storm, my tongue ravishing her mouth as I dart to the finish line. I grip my cock as hard as I can and tense, my limbs catching fire as I erupt, ejaculating all over her tits.
“Fuck.” I pant uncontrollably as I collapse next to Tara. She drops her head to the side and lies there incapacitated.
I pull the blindfold off, and she smiles at me with tired eyes.
“Merry Christmas.” She giggles.
I can’t stop myself from laughing. “One of the merriest I have ever had.”
I LISTEN TO TARA’S HEELS clink against the hardwood in a hurry.
“CJ!” She calls to me from the spare bedroom. “Are you ready? We’re going to be late.” She comes into the bedroom dressed to the nines in thigh-high boots, black leggings and a red sweater, holding the newest edition of our family. A white teacup Pomeranian named Stowe. As soon as Tara saw him in the window, she just had to have him. And me, being the sucker I am, said okay. We took him home that afternoon.
“I want to drop Philly’s present off at Jo Jo’s before we head to your parents.”
“When did you decide this?” I look at her perplexed as I fix my cufflink.
“About five minutes ago.” She hits me with puppy dog eyes bigger than Stowe’s.
“Fine,” I relent.
“Thank you.” She gives me a quick kiss. “I’m going to walk this little guy real fast before we leave.”
“Good idea. I will not appreciate any accidents in my car.”
“I wouldn't either, especially if I had to clean them up.” She hurries out of our room.
“I’ll meet you downstairs!” I call.
“Okay!” she yells.
I fix my collar as I count down, still listening to Tara’s footsteps.
“5–4-3–2-1-”
And right on cue, the alarm goes off. Blaring around the whole house.
“CJ!” Tara screeches, and I rush downstairs. She’s trying to punch in the code, but she never gets it right. “Shit, shit.”
I move her hand away and punch it in myself, silencing the ear-piercing sound.
“I thought it was off.” She bristles.
“It was.”
“I hate all your ‘devices’!” She waves her hand at the keypad.
“You have to get used to them. They aren’t going anywhere.”
“I know,” she pouts. “Are you ready?”
I feel around my jean pockets. “My watch.”
Tara sighs. “Not surprising.”
I shrug. No matter how hard I try, I always forget it. “How about I walk Stowe, and you go upstairs and get my watch? That way you don't have to go out in the cold.” I offer an olive branch.
“Fine.” She hands over the living puffball. “Put his sweater on him.”
“Not a chance in hell.” I smack her on the ass and send her on her way.
I watch Tara ascend the stairs then wait several second before I follow her.
I put Stowe down then creep up silently, coming to stand in the doorway of our bedroom that Tara decorated in all grays and whites. She’s standing like a statue in front of our dresser staring at the little open ring box between my watch and her collar. I take a few steps forward, alerting her I’m there. She looks over at me, her beautiful blue eyes wide and her face flushed. “Is that for me?”
“It depends.” I pull the diamond ring from the box.
“On what?” she asks as I take her hand and hold the princess cut stone on the platinum band up to it.
“Your answer.”
“What exactly is the question?” She shakes nervously.
I slide the ring onto the tip of her finger and whisper. “I think you know.”
“Maybe you should ask anyway, just to make sure we are thinking of the same question.” Her eyes trail the path the ring is taking over her knuckle, and I smirk at her request.
“Tara Stevens . . . will you be my shortcake? Will you be my starlet and fantasy girl? Will you be the woman who goes to bed with me every night and wakes up next to me every morning?
“You’re the first woman I’ve ever truly loved, and I want you to be the last who ever truly loves me. So what do you say? Will you be that woman? Will you be my wife?”
Tara’s hand trembles in mine as she stands there staring silently.
“Well?” I urge her.
“Oh!” She snaps out of her stupor. “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.” She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes so tightly, she nearly chokes me.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “You had me worried there for a second, shortcake.”
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “I’m in shock. You told me last week you weren’t ready to get married.”
“I know. I was trying to throw you off the trail.”
“It worked.” She sniffles, pulling away to look at me. Happy tears glistening in her eyes. “Would it sound completely corny if I told you that I loved you right now?” She laughs.
I take her face in my hands, overjoyed. I remember asking her a very similar question the weekend I ambushed her. “I don't think it’s ever corny to say I love you, especially if the person saying it truly means it . . .”
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