He shakes his head and smiles. “Listen.” Then he sits up, crosses his legs yoga-fashion, and starts to read.
“‘What I want for Christmas by Hailee Winstead.’ Honey, I . . .” He swallows hard. “I don’t know if I can get through this.”
“Try, okay?” He’s making me really nervous.
“Okay, here goes.” He takes a deep breath. “‘My name is Hailee Winstead. I am eleven years old. When school got out in the spring, I was very sad because I would miss my friends. I have a nice dad, but no mom. My mom left us and then she died. I spent most of the summer with my grandmas. We went to the zoo and on picnics. When I came home from their house, my dad took us to dinner at a fancy restaurant that didn’t have burgers. A lady came to dinner with us too, and she was very nice. I liked her a lot. My dad said they were dating.’ Hmmm . . . so that’s what it’s called!” Clint laughs. I have to giggle.
“‘She came to our house a lot and took us places, and helped us pick out clothes. She cooks very good food. Just a little bit after school started, my dad told me and my sister that he and the nice lady were getting married. I asked if I could be in the wedding and she said of course, we both could. And my sister and me got very pretty dresses to wear. So on Labor Day they got married. It was really pretty. We went to a huge lake and stood way up in the air on a bluff by a big rock. The woods workers made us a new road.’” We know she meant the forestry workers who cleared the fire road so we could drive back to the lake. She doesn’t know anything about that rock – thank goodness. “‘She didn’t wear a big puffy white dress, just a nice little blue one. Her name is Trish. She’s older than my daddy, but she’s pretty even if she is old.’” Clint snickers and I slap his leg.
“‘Now when I come home she’s there to help me with my school work. She cooks us dinner and we help. We all clean up after dinner. She does our laundry and helps me with academic team stuff. And she drives us around. She dances in the living room with my dad and he smiles all the time now.’” I hear a hitch in Clint’s voice. “‘She does all the mom things, so my sister and me asked her can we call you mom and she cried and said yes.’” Tears are rolling down my face and Clint is sniffing. “I don’t know if I can get through this part. ‘So when I had to write what I want for Christmas . . .’” he takes a big shuddering breath. “‘. . . I want Santa to take my toys and give them to boys and girls who don’t have any because I already got what I wanted to ask him for. I got a mom. The end.’”
His eyes find my weepy ones, and two big, fat, crystal teardrops meander down his cheeks. “Trish, I . . .”
I put my finger to his lips. “Shhhh. Don’t say anything. Whatever you were going to say, I already know. You’ve said it all dozens of times already, every day and every night, but I’m the lucky one, hear me? I’m the lucky one. I just have one question: Are you happy?”
He wipes his eyes with his hand, and then they fix on mine, melting my insides and warming my heart. “I’m so happy that sometimes I think my heart will just explode. And you know what?” I shake my head. “Christmas is three weeks away, and Santa can keep my toys. I’ve already gotten the only thing I didn’t have that I really wanted.” He leans in and kisses me. “Merry Christmas, my wife. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
“I love you too, my husband. Always and forever.” In seconds he’s inside me, stroking in me, filling me with love and heat and passion.
Oh, hell yeah – Santa can keep my toys too.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Deanndra Hall lives in far western Kentucky with her partner of 30+ years and three crazy little dogs. She spent years writing advertising copy, marketing materials, educational texts, and business correspondence, and designing business forms and doing graphics design. After reading a very popular erotic romance book, her partner said, “You can write better than this!” She decided to try her hand at a novel. In the process, she fell in love with her funny, smart, loving, sexy characters and the things they got into, and the novel became the Love Under Construction series.
Deanndra enjoys all kinds of music, kayaking, working out at the local gym, reading, and spending time with friends and family, as well as working in the fiber and textile arts. And chocolate’s always high on her list of favorite things!
On the Web:
www.deanndrahall.com
Email:
[email protected]
Facebook:
facebook.com/deanndra.hall
Twitter:
twitter.com/DeanndraHall
Blog:
deanndrahall.blogspot.com
Substance B:
substance-b.com/DeanndraHall
Mailing address:
P.O. Box 3722, Paducah, KY 42002-3722
Here’s a sneak peek from some of the author’s other titles . . .
From Laying a Foundation,
Book 1 in the
Love Under Construction Series
“I think everything is as ready as we can get it,” Nikki told Tony as she stood in the kitchen on that evening, looking around.
“Then I guess I’ll lock up and we’ll call it a day,” He shuffled off to lock the front door. Nikki turned to lock the back door, then turned off the kitchen lights. As she passed the island in the middle of the kitchen, a pair of strong hands grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto the island.
“Yeesh! You scared the bejesus out . . .” she tried to say, but Tony covered her mouth with his and kissed her – hard. When he pulled back, she was breathless. “Wow, that was . . .” and he gave her a repeat performance, this time running both hands up under her top and peeling it off, then unbuttoning and unzipping her shorts. “You’re . . .”
“Determined to have you. Right now. Want it? Say yes, baby,” he murmured into her neck, then kissed her again, sucking her lower lip in between his.
“Yesssssss,” she moaned, and he dug his fingers into her waist and picked her up. She promptly wrapped her legs around him, her arms clasped around his neck. They made it as far as the dining room table, biting each other’s lips, tongues lashing into each other, before he sat her down on it, yanked her shorts off, then peeled off his tee and jeans. He climbed up onto the table with her and stared down at her in the darkness, his eyes intense, almost glowing.
“I should take you right here,” he hissed into her ear, then bit her neck. Instead of making it easy for him, Nikki managed to wriggle away from him and took off running, giggling the whole time.
She made it as far as the foyer. Tony caught up with her, grabbed her around the waist, and spun her to look at him. “You’re not getting away this time, little girl,” he snarled at her. “I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go.” This time, he reached around her and snapped the hooks of her bra loose, then locked his fingers into his boxer briefs, slid them down, and stepped out of them. Nikki purred when she got a glimpse of his cock, hard and waiting. He snatched her lacy hipsters off, then lifted her up again, and she wrapped her long, sculpted legs around his waist.
She wanted to kiss him again, long and slow, but before she could say or do anything, Tony wrapped his hands under her ass, lifted her a little higher, and impaled her on his rigid cock. Nikki stifled a scream as he bored into her pussy and showed no mercy, and Tony groaned and wedged her between his body and the wall, pistoning into her like a four-stroke engine as he held her there. He bit her neck again and, in turn, she bit his shoulder just like she’d done in the back of the SUV earlier in the day. He moaned into her ear, “I just wanna fuck you until I can’t fuck you anymore. You are so goddamn sexy that you make me crazy for you.”
“Then fuck me,” she whispered back. “Fuck me hard. Just pound me until I scream for you to stop.”
“Like I’d listen,” he snickered and tied into her. His mouth found hers, and he kissed her so hard that she was sure he’d bruised her lips, then he latched onto her neck again and kissed, sucked, and bit it until she was nearly mad. He worked fast and hard, enjoying her crie
s against his collarbone, the pulses of her hot, wet sheath around his cock, and the hardness of her rigid peaks against his chest. He wished he could stop time or at least pause it, make a mental picture of them together, freeze the intensity of the sparks she gave off as her flint and his stone came together, as one’s body burnished the other’s to brilliance in that moment, so he could always recall it. Wanting to capture it all so he could enjoy it again later, sit in his office and think about it, picture her in his mind while he was at a jobsite, dream about her as she lay beside him sleeping in the night, he listened to her, soaked in the feel of her skin. He waited as long as he could before he poured himself into her in a gasping, moaning thrust that tuned her up until he was sure that Helene could hear them, even down at her house. Hell yeah, he hoped she could.
His possession of her body was too much for Nikki, and she tightened and came around him, screaming out, her fingers in his hair. When he stopped, she leaned in and locked her lips onto his, holding his face against hers until she couldn’t breathe. “Sweet mother of god, babe, what’s gotten into you today?” she panted when she finally broke the kiss.
“You. You’re under my skin. Permanently. And I’m not complaining – not at all!” he laughed, then kissed her again. “I think it’s about time I started living a more spontaneous life, stop planning everything out to the letter, start fucking you when I want, where I want, how I want, and making you want it too. And do you want it?” he asked with a seriousness that startled her.
“Want it? God, I crave it. Just cut loose!” she laughed back and kissed him.
“Let’s go finish this in the bedroom,” he told her as he carried her up the stairs. “I’ll show you ‘cut loose!’”
Thirty minutes later, she was still overwhelmed with his pressure inside her, his big, dark hands on her pale skin like molten lava, molded to her, pouring over her, twisting and pulling her nipples, flicking and stroking her clit. The sight of him above her drove her to the edge until his eyes closed and she saw that look on his face that said he was lost in ecstasy, lost in her. That look was all she needed; her own need consumed her and, as he buried himself in her over and over, she rasped her clit against his pelvis and came, repeating his name like a prayer. Within seconds, he groaned out his own climax. The liquid fire of his seed filled her, and she fell onto his chest, panting and moaning. His arms encircled her and tightened against her skin, and she’d never felt so desirable or so loved, so satisfied and so hungry for more.
“Are you trying to kill me?” she asked as he burrowed his face into her hair and kissed the top of her head.
“Yes. Death by sex,” he chuckled as she licked his nipple.
“Correction: Death by great sex. Big difference,” she giggled as he kissed the top of her head again. “But what a way to go!”
From Tearing Down Walls,
Book 2 in the
Love Under Construction Series
The club was starting to fill up, and the bar was busier than usual. Laura was drawing a couple of beers from a tap when she heard a woman at the bar say, “Holy shit, who’s that? That’s one extremely tall, dark, and hot Dom. Wonder if he’s got a sub?” Laura turned to see who she was talking about and nearly fainted.
It was Vic Cabrizzi. And it was a Vic Cabrizzi she’d never seen before.
The mild-mannered man who’d sidled up to the bar and tried to make small talk with her was nowhere in this guy. Vic was six feet and eight inches of pure, dark, steaming sex in leather. He had the top half of his elbow-length black hair pulled up in a half-tail with a leather wrap, and his torso looked like it was trying to escape through the skin-tight black tee he was wearing. As he made his way toward the bar, the crowd parted to let him through as though they were in awe of the masculinity gliding across the room like a panther. Her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to his ass, and it looked especially fine under those leathers, not to mention the more-than-obvious bulge in the front of them. The room started to get spotty, and Laura realized she’d been holding her breath. What the fuck? was all she could get to run through her mind.
“Well! Guess by the look on your face that you approve of our newest service Dom!” Steve walked up to the bar and took a stool. Even in the dim lighting, Steve could see Laura’s face turn three shades of red.
“Cabrizzi? Are you kidding?” she asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious!”
“Look at him, Laura. Tell me you don’t want that,” Steve grinned.
“No. I don’t.” Do I?
“Liar. Have a fun evening. I’ll check on you in a bit.” Steve walked away and left Laura to stew.
“Hey, can I get a diet soda?” Vic asked as he leaned backward against the bar. Laura hadn’t seen him come up, and she jumped about a foot. “Damn, woman, I just want a drink. I’m not gonna slap you or anything. Calm down,” he snapped, not even cracking a smile.
“Don’t you want your usual beer?” she asked, surprised that he’d asked for a soft drink.
“Nope. Against the rules.”
“Whose rules?” Laura asked.
“Mine.” She sat the drink in front of him and he picked up the glass. She couldn’t help but notice how elegant his hands were, long, strong fingers with just the lightest dusting of dark hair across them. Looking at them made her feel odd. “Can’t drink alcohol and keep my wits about me with a sub.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Laura asked, her mouth hanging open.
The new Vic Cabrizzi looked into her eyes and asked, “And what would make you think I’m not?” The low growl in his voice made her insides quiver, and she had to look away. “That’s exactly what I thought.” He finished the drink and smacked the glass onto the bar, then walked away. What the hell?, Laura thought. She looked down at her hands – they were visibly shaking.
Several of the unattached women in the club spent most of the evening talking to Vic, but most of them wanted to be collared by a Dom – right that minute. And Vic was not interested in that at all. They could flirt all they wanted, but it got them nowhere. He made it clear: He was a service Dom, and he’d be glad to meet their needs, but that was it.
“Oh my god! He’s so gorgeous!” one woman was gushing as she and another woman walked up to the bar. “Can I have a Bud Light?” she asked Laura, who pulled it and sat it down in front of her.
“I’d take him on in a New York minute,” her friend said. “I needed a sign that said ‘slippery when wet’ just standing there talking to him!” Laura wanted to hurl.
“I want to climb up there and let him spank me good, but he’s so damn big, he’s kinda scary,” the first one said. Ha! Wish he could hear that!, Laura thought.
But that left her wondering why she wanted him to fail. He’d obviously worked hard to train with Alex. She should be happy for him, that he was more confident and looked better, happier, than she’d ever seen him. Why did seeing him looking and feeling good make her feel so bad? Maybe I’m the bitch that José said I am.
Laura felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and she pulled it out to see an unfamiliar number on the screen. She’d advertised to try to find a roommate, and she hoped that someone was responding. When she answered the call, a male voice said something, but the club was too loud. “Hang on just a minute, please. I can’t hear you.” She looked around – no Steve. “Hey, Vic!” she yelled. Vic broke away from a beautiful, bare-breasted brunette and came over to the bar. “Hey, I’ve got a phone call. Can you watch the bar for just a minute?”
“Yeah, but just a minute. Get your ass right on back here,” he said. He’d never talked to her like that before, and she was taken aback, but she didn’t have time to worry about that.
Jetting out the side door behind the bar, she put the phone back up to her ear. “Yeah, sorry about that. Can I help you? Are you calling about the ad for a roommate.”
“No.” Something about the voice made her feel odd. “Laura? Laura Billings?” Her hands went cold and a buzzing started in he
r ears. “Billings?”
“Who the hell is this?” she growled into the phone.
“Laura, I’m so sorry to call you and drag all of this up. This is Brewster. Please don’t hang up on me.”
“DON’T CALL ME AGAIN!” Laura screamed into the phone, then hit END and dropped the phone on the ground. It promptly rang again; same number.
She stared at the phone. Everything was coming at her in a rush, and the earth seemed to tilt. She hit ACCEPT and asked through gritted teeth, “What the hell do you want?”
“Laura, please, don’t hang up. I need to talk to you. I want to make this right; we all do. Well, almost all of us. I hear a lot of noise in the background. Can I call you later? Or tomorrow? It’s important.”
“I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to call me. How did you find me?” she was whispering, feeling so weak that she could barely speak.
“Billings, I know it’s hard to believe, but I want to make this right. It’s eaten at me for years, ruined my life and I’m betting yours too, and it’s time to man up. Please. Let me do this, me and the others. Please?”
Laura’s head was spinning and she felt like she was going to throw up. It was a little late for an apology, but it was more than she’d gotten over the last sixteen years, sixteen years of sheer hell. “Call me tomorrow. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. That’s Eastern Time.”
“Okay. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Will do.” The phone went dead. Laura stood staring at the phone, her hands trembling so violently that she could barely hold it. After a minute or two, she walked back through the side door and up to the bar.
“Where the hell were you?” Vic barked. Then he got a good look at her face. “God, Laura, what’s wrong?” She stared at the bar, and Vic grabbed her arms and spun her to look at him. “Talk to me. What is it?”
Laura shook his hands off. “Don’t touch me. Leave me alone. Nothing’s wrong.” She grabbed the towel and started wiping.
Adventurous Me Page 18
