“WHAT IN THE HELL ARE you wearing, wife?” Cam choked on a laugh when he strolled into the kitchen after taking a shower. Expecting to find Lacey doting on his son, he found instead one very naughty-looking housewife dressed in a black ruffled apron tied around her waist, thigh-high stockings, and a wicked pair of fuck-me shoes, with her hair in a high, tight ponytail, the dazzling necklace he’d given her dangling between her tits and a wicked smile. Oh and no panties. Holy shit.
“Humph,” she rumbled. “Tradition,” she added silkily. “I seem to recall this get-up worked out pretty well for me last year.”
Jesus. She was one in a bajillion.
“You planning on wearing that to the Villa later?” he smirked.
“Oh yeah, like that would ever happen! No, my handsome, hunky husband—this little tradition is most definitely for your eyes only.”
Really? Well, fuck-a-luck-a-ding-dong. Thanksgiving was his new favorite holiday.
Pregnancy had changed the shape and size of Lacey’s already beautiful breasts. Now they were heavier, fuller, and her nipples, which she diligently massaged and tended with some delicious smelling herbal cream that kept them supple and soft, taunted him with their mouth-watering perfection.
“Where’s Daddy’s big boy this morning? Did I miss the daily morning suck?”
Lacey giggled with merriment at his words. What in the hell was she up to?
“Sir Poops-a-Lot has been fed and cleaned up and is miraculously sleeping it off. He got up early and I made him wait for the milk maid this morning so he’s out like a light for now.”
“Is that so?” he chuckled, reaching for his sexy Ponytail and moving her in close. Nuzzling her neck, he asked, “What do you have in mind for breakfast?”
He watched, amused as she squinched up her face so he knew she was gearing up to say something raunchy. It was one of the things he adored about her; Lacey’s steadfast determination to not have a filthy mouth.
But sometimes, when they got down to the naughty playtime, a few dirty words were necessary. In fact, it was his mission in life, one of ‘em at least, to get her to beg him to fuck her. She found a dozen different ways to say just that without the words, “Fuck me,” coming from her mouth.
“Breakfast will be in two courses this morning, husband.”
“Two? Humph. Sounds…yummy. Care to elaborate?”
She cleared her throat and he smiled when she toyed with the buttons on his shirt.
“I hope this is better than last year’s menu,” he teased with a quick swat on her bare ass when she didn’t immediately answer. Her innate shyness turned him on. Big time.
Lacey’s first attempt at a romantic Thanksgiving dinner just for the two of them had been an epic failure. He intended to never let her live that moment down when she slid the turkey from the oven and discovered it was half cooked at best.
“Yes, well…” she scolded, “I planned better this year.”
“Okay. So what’s first?”
Without any further discussion, she started unbuckling the leather belt on his slacks. As the zipper was peeled down, she looked at him, her sexy blue eyes sparkling with naughty pleasure.
“First course—your cock, my mouth. And I’m extremely hungry so no skipping the final nibbles. They’re the best part.”
Uh, what the fuck? Was she messing with him? The way her hands were efficiently divesting him of his pants and underwear as she forcefully pushed both down his legs suggested she was not.
His lovely wife had been a blank slate sexually when they got together which afforded Cam the opportunity to tutor her, over time, into the delights and techniques for satisfying him with her mouth and hands. And she’d been an avid and devoted pupil, telling him many times of her surprise by how turned on she got from pleasuring him that way.
If how wet she got was any indicator, sucking on his cock was at the top of his wife’s sinful pleasures list.
When his pants were down around his ankles, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. He saw her eyes go immediately to the tribal looking tattoo that wrapped around his bicep. The same one Drae had. There was something about the dark pattern inked into his flesh that never failed to make her expression burn with need.
“Will there be kissing in this first course,” he asked.
Her eyes flared as they turned to his. “No. There will be sucking. And licking. And some nibbling but any kisses that happen are reserved for your dick. Got a problem with that?”
He made a face and shook his head. “I do have one question, though,” he drawled. “If my dick is the first course, what’s the second?”
She smiled at him, her fingers mapping every inch, each rippling muscle on his chest.
“See that table over there?”
“You mean the one where we eat every damn day? Yeah, I see it.”
Scraping her fingernails over his nipples made him growl at her while she smirked, then glanced over her shoulder at the table.
“Second course is you in your chair at the head of the table with my bare ass at your place. Those wicked heels on the arms of your chair, legs spread wide while you eat a good, hearty meal.”
“Ah, the breakfast of champions, I see.”
By now, her hand had snaked into the thatch of hair that crowned his manhood. Jesus F. Christ. Her fingers felt so good. She quite frankly excelled at stroking his dick. There was something so deliciously earthy and explicit about standing there watching as her hand gripped his erection and languidly fondled his flesh.
“Tell me,” he groaned. “Say it out loud, love. I need to hear you say it.”
She started pressing soft, wet kisses all over his neck and face as she whispered, “I love your cock, Cameron. Love how big and hard it gets—for me. Love feeling it sliding against my palm and through my fingers.”
Motherfucker. It was great to be him. After all those long, empty, lonely years, to have this incredible woman at his side, transforming his entire world with her gentle smile and naughty ass—it just blew his damn mind. And by giving him a son and the chance at a real family for the only time in his life, my God—she was everything to him.
While he’d been having that thought, she’d gotten rather determined in her stroking. As he came back to the moment, she glided elegantly to her knees, those damn heels and sheer stocking making the visual a feast for the eyes.
Fisting his cock, she held it out straight then placed an open-mouthed, wet kiss right on the tip. He felt the groan that rumbled up through his throat from the bottoms of his feet to the very top of his head.
Cameron did what any sane man with a lick of sense would do in that situation. He grabbed her ponytail and used it to gain control. She welcomed his handling, opened wide, and let him fuck her mouth.
Watching as she swallowed his dick over and over was nothing compared to the deep pleasure Cam felt when his beautiful, ladylike wife began moaning and rolling her head. He might be controlling the strokes, but she was clearly very turned on, adding her drooling imprint all over the sucking part of things.
He released the ponytail and cupped her face in both hands—his thumbs resting on her throat. She looked up at him with lust-filled eyes, knowing full well what he wanted.
With a deliberate slowness, he pushed his hard cock into her mouth, across her tongue to the back of her mouth—hesitated then eased forward more until his staff nudged further. With his fingers placed just so, he was able to feel his dick invading her throat. The move was hotter than fucking hell.
After a few more of those devastating strokes, Lacey moaned deeply, her eyes looking dazed. Saliva was running down her chin, her soft hands were resting softly on his thighs. She was completely relaxed and lost in the moment, giving herself over completely to his desires.
God. She looked so beautiful down on her knees. Naked breasts, swollen with food for his son, swaying with her movements. A thin trail of moisture had made its way down her chin and onto her chest. Her hands, limp and trusting on his skin as her succulent lips stretched around his thickness. He loved her so completely that he couldn’t imagine a time when she wasn’t part of him.
“Lacey,” he growled as the desire began to tear him apart. “Look at me, love. Let me see your beautiful eyes.”
She continued to devour him with her hot, greedy mouth while looking at him with a sensuality that staggered him.
“Are you ready, love? May I come in your beautiful mouth?”
She blinked at him and moaned all along the length of his throbbing cock, encouraging his thrusts.
He lost it. “I’m going to fuck your mouth now, wife—you may want to hold on ‘cause I can’t be gentle this time.”
By the time Dylan woke up, he’d enjoyed his most decadently delicious and satisfying second course, and Cam was a happy, smiling man. Thanksgiving with the family? Bring it on.
“WHO HASN’T ARRIVED YET?” MEGHAN asked Carmen while the frown on her face deepened.
“Just Meester Dane,” Carmen replied with her familiar Spanish accent. “He’s the one taking care of the surprise, but he should be here any minute.”
“Well, he better hurry the hell up. I’m running out of hors d’oeuvres, and we have a schedule to keep.”
The kindly older housekeeper just chuckled and shook her head. “Meez Meghan, relax. This crew?” she said nodded her head at the bulk of Family Justice where they mingled around the huge family room. “They’d eat a palace out of all its food if you let them loose.”
Meghan smiled. She wasn’t kidding. I mean, cripes! When they all gathered together, the amount of food needed to feed fifteen men and women was staggering. It’d only get worse as more and more kids came along.
“You go find the Major and do that kissy huggy thing you two do so well. Enjoy your guests. Let me and Ria handle it from here. Besides,” she snickered, “the fun’s about to begin.”
Heavens. She was right. “Is everything ready?” she asked.
Carmen chuckled and made a wry face. “Ready as we’ll ever be. Go on now. Have fun.”
She hugged the woman Alex trusted to run his beautiful Villa. Carmen was one in a million. Bussing her noisily on the cheek with a big laugh she told her, “What would I do without you?”
After another grateful, loving look, she squeezed the housekeeper’s hand once then went to join her fiancé. Alex was in the midst of a group, as he always was. As she approached, she heard him explaining in the most minute-detail how the construction of the yoga studio she’d wheedled out of him was going to go.
Drae laughed and bent over to kiss Tori on the lips with a loud smack. “Well, thank God I’m going to be a bit busy with other things while this insanity unfolds.”
“Hey now,” she chirped as she joined them. “Don’t you be casting a dark eye on my yoga palace!”
“Oh, I’m not, believe me, Irish. My lady love informs me that a yoga retreat will keep you ladies happy and out of our hair,” he sniggered. “I’m just glad I don’t have to lend any muscle. Let the crew handle it.” For good measure, resulting in a heaping dose of sarcastic, unsympathetic moans from his audience, Drae massaged his ribs recently bruised ribs.
“How’re you feeling, little mama?” Meghan asked Tori. A sense of happiness warmed her when she saw Tori reach for her husband’s hand. Those two were so meant for each other.
“I’m good. Really good,” she added, looking up at Drae, who was smiling down at her. “Although it’s a little quiet on Broadway tonight.” Tori rubbed her pregnant belly and chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Turning to Ben and Gus, who had been involved in the discussion about the studio, she smiled and asked, “You two won’t be mad at me if I let your ladies run things just for tonight, will you?” Meghan noted with satisfaction that Gus reddened at the suggestion that Carmen was his lady.
“Ah, hell,” Ben chuckled. “I’m used to it. And for the record, Meghan, she’d run things anyway and happily tell you to get lost if you tried to stop her. It’s my charming wife’s way of not having to put up with me! Just stay busy in the kitchen.”
A steady round of good-natured guffaws split the air. Ria and Ben were the comedy relief at times. She definitely ran things at home but played the downtrodden woman role to the comic delight of them all. It was true that she took over almost anything that involved a meal, a party, or a quiet get-together. It was her thing.
Meghan heard a deep voice behind her and turned around to find Calder standing at her shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late. There was a slight delay.”
He kissed her on the cheek, shook Alex’s hand, said, “Happy Thanksgiving, man,” then turned and shook Ben and Gus’s hands as well. Once the pleasantries were out of the way, she asked, “Everything alright?”
“Right as rain, Red. Don’t you worry. Enjoy the evening, okay?”
“Ugh,” she groaned. “It’s so nerve-wracking.”
“It’s gonna be fine. Look, I have to say hello to everyone else. You hang in there and stay close to Alex. I know how much he looked forward to everyone being here together and to have you at his side.”
“Damn but you’re a smooth talker,” she giggled.
“Runs in the family,” he deadpanned a second before making a beeline to where Stephanie sat with Dylan in her arms. Brody, Cam, and Lacey gathered round.
She slipped her arm around Alex’s waist and felt him do the same only his hand ended up possessively caressing her ass. They both watched silently as Calder greeted Cam. Then he gave Lacey a quick peck on the check, obviously made some gentlemanly comment about her outfit, and then turned to Brody with a big smile. They did a bro-tap and a side hug that needed to be set to music and posted on YouTube. Which left only Stephanie.
Meghan felt her Major’s hand tense up on her ass. His reaction was not a surprise because she was actually holding her breath. Calder bent over and looked closely at the snuggling baby, and said something that brought a smile to Stephanie’s face. Then calmly and in full view of them all, for they were all watching, kissed Tori’s mother full on the mouth in a way that left little doubt about the direction of their relationship.
Tori gasped. Drae chuckled. Alex palmed her butt. Gus and Ben coughed.
“Okay everyone,” Carmen called from the doorway. “Now that we’re all here, you can start heading into the dining room. Bring your drinks, mis amigos. No hurry!”
“Showtime,” muttered Alex close to Meghan’s ear.
Everyone moved slowly from the family room to the dining room with multiple bathroom stops along the way. Meghan grinned broadly when the massive pocket doors were pushed open and the warm, inviting holiday tableau came into view. It was absolutely stunning and everything she’d hoped it would be.
The Villa’s formal dining room was immense, with a heavy, carved wood table and chairs that easily sat twenty-five situated in the center of the room. This space, more so than any of the others in the main house, maintained its original, heavily Spanish vibe.
On one end of the room sat an enormous fireplace with an ornately carved relief in the marble surround. Heavy iron lighting sconces hung overhead with a magnificent colonial chandelier in the center. And everywhere there was wood—from the rustic, majestic beamed ceiling to the heavy, dark furniture.
It was to this already magnificent room that Meghan let her creative whims fly to create an unforgettable holiday atmosphere for this very special gathering. Down the center of the long table was a stunning continuous floral piece with vines covered in fall leaves that curled high and low. There were shiny apples, mini pumpkins, pomegranates, and decorative squash plants littered through the entire length. Several tall dessert stands with unique domed lids were set at intervals filled with autumn displays. Here and there were scattered a dozen or more iron hurricanes lit with thick brown candles which made the tablescape glow and dance in the flickering lights. Visually, it was a masterpiece. Warm, colorful, inviting, memorable.
When she heard the appreciative murmurs and gasps of her guests, Meghan was filled with delight. Alex even squeezed her ass and whispered, “Bravo, baby.”
“Oh, my heavens,” Stephanie quipped in her adorably exaggerated Southern drawl. “This is incredible, Meghan! Ohhh gurl, it’s on like Donkey Kong now, shugah. Imma’ have to challenge you to a Party Planner Face-Off. I do events for a living, darlin’, and this…well— this is really something.”