HALEY
CHRISTMAS MORNING
The master bedroom is completely dark when I wake.
I bring a hand to my head. “I think your little joy flight the other day rearranged my brain or something.”
Muffled laughter follows beside me. “You sure it’s not from last night?”
I shake my head. Thank god there’s a lock on the bedroom door.
“Are the kids up yet?” Dane asks, a hand moving across the quilt, under my slip and onto my belly.
I listen, but the house is silent. “Not a creature was stirring, not even a…”
The hand on my belly runs down into my panties and the wetness already gathering there. “It won’t be for long,” I warn.
We’re interrupted by a loud banging on the door. “Mom, Dad! It’s Christmas.”
It’s Andy, keen to get on with the important business of opening presents.
“One second,” calls Dane, removing his hand and switching on the bedside light. He flicks another switch beside it and the blinds in front of the bed lift automatically, the North Pacific Ocean in all its sparkly splendor revealed.
I remember the first time Dane brought us down here. I cried. It was the first time Andy and I had seen the ocean, been anywhere but Merit. We watched the ocean from Big Sur, making a fire down on the beach and dancing like idiots until we could barely stand. It seems like forever ago now, since we bought this second home on the Californian coast.
It’s modern and well-appointed, ocean views from every bedroom. It’s the antithesis of our home in Merit, everything about California is, but I love them both equally, as does the rest of the family.
A lot has changed in the last five years. Dane had plenty of money saved away, enough to last us a quite a while, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to spend his days playing Mr. Domestic in Merit. I helped find him a job flying out of the local airstrip—joy flights, crop-dusting, whatever was going. When the old man who owned the place died, Dane bought it up and got to work. In the space of five years he’s turned it from a hangar and three planes to an entire fleet. He’s got three full-time employees, a helipad, and a non-stop stream of work. It’s how we were able to afford a second place.
That’s not to say I don’t miss Merit when we’re away, but I’m no longer scared of the greater world. We’ve been to Hawaii, Australia, even Ireland. Andy’s got more stamps in his passport now than most people will see in a lifetime. We had to slow down the travel when the twins came along, of course, but now they’re growing up the need to explore is pinching again. As always, I’m up for anything.
That goes for the bedroom, too. After the twins I was worried I wouldn’t be the same down there, wouldn’t feel the same desire, but it ran in completely the opposite direction. There’s not a single room in either house we haven’t made love in. As Dane said all those years ago, we’ve learned the art of the quickie, stealing time whenever and wherever we can. We keep things spicy after-hours as well, even venturing into light BDSM of late, my very own Christian Grey to play with as I see fit. As for the dog-eared Kama Sutra under the bed…
With three kids and a husband who at times is a kid himself, life’s as full as can be, but there’s more joy for it. Yes, it gets crazy, and yes, sometimes I want to cry, but it’s all part and parcel of life—that intangible, crazy thing that passed me by for so many years.
Now I have Dane. He’s my rock, my solace. It took some time, but he did warm up to Merit and its silly folk eventually. Everyone in town knows him by name and reputation these days. We’ve poured a lot back into Merit together, but now it’s because we want to, not because I feel obligated.
And Mrs. Ainsworth? She’s practically the president of the Dane Carr fan club, constantly bringing over meals, offering to mind the children. Ever since her daughter left for college she’s been most cordial. She even knitted us matching sweaters for Christmas—prickly, garish articles that look like they came direct from the 1930s.
Dane loves to play the Dad, though, wearing the ridiculous sweater with pride and passing out the presents on Christmas Day. He ‘Ooohs’ and ‘ahs’ at Andy’s macaroni necklace, the plate he made him at school with ‘I love you, Daddy’ in bold, blue script.
It means the world to him. I know it does. He finally has the family he wanted. He has purpose and significance, a place—no, two—to call home.
But home is where the heart is, and though it’s heavy at times, it’s made lighter knowing we’re in it together, a team.
It was a storm that brought us together.
And it would take one hell of storm to tear us apart.
We’ve weathered our share of troubles—the twins being born prematurely, the odd run-in around town with folks too set in their ways to look at us any different, but I’m stronger with Dane by my side. We are strong.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We head downstairs to the sunken living room where the girls are already waiting patiently in their My Little Pony nighties, Andy clapping his hands together in anticipation.
Dane dons his sweater and Santa hat, winking at me. “So, who wants a present?”
I raise my hand.
“Oh, I’ve got a big package for you, Momma.” He winks, the innuendo going right over the kids’ head as he starts to divvy out the presents.
I watch him help the kids, completely immersed in the role, still as sexy as ever even if he has put on a pound or two around the middle. I’d like to say it’s all that good home cooking, but he does most of it anyway.
The kids are completely wasted come day’s end. Whether it’s a sugar coma or the excitement fall-off, I’m not sure, but they’re sound asleep when I check on them.
Dane joins me by the door to the twins’ room. They’re both sleeping in exactly the same position, their pudgy hands raised above their heads just like Andy used to, their well-worn comfort toys, rainbow monkeys, tucked in beside them.
“God damn we make cute kids,” says Dane.
I turn around and kiss him, allowing my tongue to work its way between his lips. He takes me under the thigh, lifting it up against him, his erection grinding against my pelvis. “Care to take this into the master bedroom, Mrs. Claus?”
“Lead the way, Saint Dick.”
We don’t even make it to the bedroom before we’re on one another, clothes floating to the floor, the two of us giggling like horny teenagers.
I break the kiss to glance down between us, our bodies naked, Dane’s cock at full, glorious mast. It’s always happy to see me, even after three kids.
Dane pulls me into him, hands locked tight behind my ass.
“Strong as ever,” I note.
“I’ll show you how strong I am,” he smiles, suddenly lifting me up and spinning me in the air until I’m upside down, my head just beside his cock and my pussy right below his mouth. He holds me there easily.
My head starts to grow heavy. I’m dizzy.
It’s crazy, but this is Dane—always the showman.
“Maybe you should put me down,” I suggest.
“Not until you come.”
“I can’t like this.”
“You can and you will, my love.”
He licks from the top of my slit to the bottom, gathering my arousal on his tongue and running it over my clit.
You’re such a pushover, I tell myself, quietly moaning in delight.
Dane nips and tugs at my folds, pulling and stretching them before he kisses the insides of my thighs, my pale flesh mutinous.
My hair hangs down around me, light curtains of it swaying back and forth as I struggle to remain conscious. Blood runs to my head and there’s pressure behind my eyes, but Dane doesn’t stop licking, doesn’t let up on my clit. He’s nothing if not relentless.
I can’t help reacting to this, getting more and more turned on by his lips and mouth against me, by his strength and precision. You’d think he’d be sick of me now, but nothing could be further from the truth. He’s as hungry for my body, my pleasure, as ever.
He narrows his tongue into an arrowhead and drives it deep into my hole, his nose nestled against my taint and my thighs gripping his head hard as I struggle to stop myself from slipping into a premature climax.
He draws away. “You know what would make this extra special?”
“What?” I breathe out.
“My cock, in your ass.”
We’ve done anal before, of course, the sheer naughtiness of it tipping me into orgasm before he even got his full length in. I’ve come to quite enjoy it, actually, the deeper, more carnal pleasure it provides.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. You’ll take my size in no time, you always do, but for now…” He draws my clit between his lips and sucks, the light vibrations of his mouth causing me to quiver in the air, my head rolling against him, his cock hot against the side of my face.
It’s heaven having a man so willing to go down on you. If he had his way I’m sure Dane would simply stay down there twenty-four hours a day, licking and lashing for all eternity.
Fresh sensation courses through me as he grips my ass tight and continues to work, my pussy clenching in response.
Traitor.
“Are you ready to come for me yet, baby?”
“No, no,” I mutter, but I know it won’t be long, the familiar tug deep in my core already starting, even inverted like I am.
“You’re so fucking wet. I’ll be tasting you for weeks after this. Do you know how hard that makes me?”
The pressure behind my eyes borders on unbearable, but the welcome pressure above is too great to ignore. I beg, plead, but it falls on deaf ears.
He talks dirty between tongue strokes, our little secret language, and with that I come, my body giving up with barely a fight, my thighs crushing his head and my pussy drawing his tongue deep inside. Halfway through, he bites down gently on my clit and another orgasm rolls over the first, smashing its way through mind and body until I really do think I’ll pass out suspended like this.
When I’ve recovered, he lets me down onto the floor, lying beside me and kissing his way up my body. The room saws back and forth, the dizziness overwhelming.
As soon as he kisses me again, I shake and tighten against fresh need.
Once more, he has me, this husband, this father, this playboy turned domestic pro.
Dane lifts me from the floor, placing me in the center of the bed.
He touches me now with that same tenderness he did back at the Merit Motor Inn all those years ago, his fingers a salve as they play with my lips, the velvety interior of my pussy. My body responds. It has no choice. Soon my wetness coats his fingers, his hand. I look back to him and see the obsession in the pits of his eyes, how bad he wants this.
“As punishment for coming too soon, Haley Carr,” he begins, “I’m going to take your ass.”
This role-playing, this power play, always turns me on. I can’t believe how far I’ve come… and how many times.
He withdraws his hand, moving to close the bedroom door and submerge us in absolute and complete darkness.
“I think your pussy’s had enough attention for now, don’t you think? Get on your knees. Put your ass out for me.”
I can’t see it, but I know he’s stroking his cock behind me, readying it. That’s the incredible thing. All this time and I’ve barely seem him limp. He’s super-human, his member always at the ready for me.
He draws his hand up over the puffy lips of my cleft until a single digit sits against the tight pucker of my anus. He holds it there, pressing with the lightest touch until a shiver of sensation runs down my spine. I try to close my buttocks, but I can’t hold the position.
“Do you know how hard I am right now?” he continues. “How hard I am thinking about my cock in that tight ass?”
His finger is replaced with his cock. A chill runs through me at his size.
It always goes this way, the initial hesitation, the uncertainty.
I’ve come to resist and crave this taboo act in equal measure.
He begins to guide his cock in, hand around the root.
I grimace and moan again.
“Shhh,” he replies. “Relax.”
I don’t believe him. He’s going to take my ass whether I’m quiet or screaming my lungs out, and he’s going to take it hard.
The head of his cock begins to stretch the tiny buttonhole. He adds more and more of his length with each passing second, lifting himself and bringing his full weight to the task, drilling right down into molten channel of my behind.
“Relax,” he repeats, drawing back just a touch and then shifting forward again. He lets a line of drool fall from his lips right onto his cock, using the head of it to nuzzle and press into my hole, using it to lubricate this obscene act.
And then he’s completely inside me. The sudden contrast between the slow tease and the sudden filling forces a cry from my lips, but whether it’s a cry of agony or ecstasy I can never be sure.
He goes deeper until the wispy hairs around the root of his cock are matted against the distorted ring of my asshole, the action forcing me to clench and grip his cock.
“Yes,” he bellows, clearly enjoying the sensation, “that’s the way, baby.”
He draws back and rams forward harder, my fingers clawing into the quilt for purchase.
“Easy now, my love,” he cautions, simmering his strokes down while holding my cheeks apart.
He pulls back and glides forward again, my ass impossibly tight around him, that deep, wonderful sense of fulfillment branching out through my body.
Just when I think I can’t possibly climax from such an intrusion, one of his hands finds my clit again and goes to work.
“Uh,” I grunt, losing my ability to form coherent speech.
He ignores me, his heavy fingers strumming my clit. He knows precisely the effect his fingers are having, knows just how to seek out my darkest, most hidden desires.
And I begin. I move my hips, push back and let him fill my ass. I rock against the hard butt of his hand, the pressure inside me moving from dull pain to deep pleasure.
I’m close to orgasm again, my hips rising and falling and his fat cock moving to match.
As usual, my cheeks flush with shame at the realization of how much I’m enjoying this. I’ve moved past the point of no return. All I want is to come.
He places his head on my shoulder, his cock finding a new angle inside me, eliciting new and alien sounds from my slack mouth. “Do you like this?” he asks, breathless. “Do you like my cock in your ass?”
“Yes,” I reply, breathless.
“You want me to let you come?”
“Yes,” becomes my mantra. “Yes. I want to come.”
He’s fucking me harder now, pounding hard into my ass and with every stroke, he’s driving us closer and closer to the edge.
He draws all the way out before plunging further, using his thumb to hold me open and gain more ground, never quite getting deep enough.
I cry out and dig into the quilt with my nails, caught there as my core twists and pulls together tight. We’re completely in sync, completely one.
I can’t hold it off any longer.
I find the words. “I’m going to—”
It’s right at that point Dane stiffens and holds himself inside me, his cock pulsing deep in my ass. We come together, my release so hard that infinite darkness becomes light behind my eyelids, a trail of heated sensation everywhere at once.
Spent, Dane collapses to the side. I go with him.
We lie hand in hand in the afterglow, that tenderness I’ve come to know so well radiating throughout me.
Dane hits the switch to the blinds, the vista revealed as they open.
The moon, bright ahead, has lit up a single path down the center of the ocean. You can hear it from here, the shift and crash of the swell below, the sound mirroring my own, torrid release.
*
Dane comes through the door of the house first, placing down the suitcases he’s carrying and surveying the space. “Home, sweet home.”
The kids dash in around us, dragging their own bags upstairs to their rooms stuffed with toys and candy. We’ll be lucky to see them again until tomorrow.
We’re back in Merit, back to the simple life—as simple as it can be with three small kids.
Once we’ve taken our suitcases upstairs, the kids busy unpacking, I join Dane for a much-needed coffee downstairs. He turns the old wireless radio on the kitchen counter on, just like Dad used to when I was a kid. It’s funny, but Dane’s become quite a fan of the local radio station and its eccentric, country ways.
“…closed for up to a week, maybe more,” comes through the speaker.
We share a look, Dane reaching over to increase the volume. “It’s Jerry,” he says, recognizing the voice.
“The weather boys are telling me this storm’s going to be a real shocker,” continues the Sherriff. “Once that ice comes I can’t imagine anyone’s going to be coming into, or leaving, town anytime soon.”
I look out the window. It is getting cold out there. “Did you know anything about this?” I ask Dane.
“First I’ve heard of it,” he shrugs.
“That’s right,” says the Sheriff, responding to a question. “Buckle down, folks, and break out the Monopoly board. Looks like everyone’s going to be stuck indoors for a few days.”
Dane places down his coffee and takes me around the waist, pulling me into his hard body, his face lit with excitement. “You heard the man. We’re going to be stuck inside for a while… days even.”
I place my hand on his chest, still can’t figure out how I got so lucky. “However will we pass the time?”