I almost growled my frustration when he stopped at the cupboard to the right of his desk. He opened the mini-freezer from which he took out a tray of ice. He filled a glass with some ice cubes, then closed the freezer. With the lube and glass full of ice cubes in hand, he returned to my side.
“What are you going to do?”
“I am going to teach you something new,” he replied. “I’m going to use my tongue to shove these ice cubes up your butt hole, and then I’m going to fuck you.”
I shifted on my knees, loosening my grip on my ass cheeks a little. “Um, it’s safe to do that?”
“Yes, when done just right.” He placed the glass onto the floor and dropped onto his knees behind me. “But you must use your safe word if it gets too much for you.”
“Okay.”
The ice cubes weren’t that big, and since I could take Declan’s uncut dick inside me, the size of the cubes shouldn’t be a problem. I was just apprehensive about the cold.
My common sense told me the ice would melt anyway and nothing would go wrong, and I relaxed to try this new thing Declan wanted to do to me. If I didn’t like it, he wouldn’t bring it up again. Not everything we had tried in the bedroom had earned a repeat performance, and our sex life could be this adventurous because I could be as honest with him about my likes and dislikes as he was.
Still, I was grateful when he started with the familiar: pushing my hands aside so he could grip my ass himself while he pressed gentle kisses to my hole. His tongue swiped upward and down, fluttering side to side in quivering motions that massaged the tight muscles of my asshole. I clung to the back of the lounge, hips moving to the rhythm of his tongue.
Declan eased back, giving me enough time to catch my breath. The ice rattled in the glass.
“Relax,” he said when I stiffened up. “I’m letting you get used to the cold first.”
He popped an ice cube into his mouth and sucked on it. Then he returned to loving on my butthole with his wet, cold mouth. I shivered at the sensation of the iciness of his tongue plunging inside my body, but he was right. My body adjusted to the temperature as he kept chewing on the ice, giving my body time to heat up before he pressed his cold mouth back to my body.
I’d gotten so used to his cold tongue that I didn’t realize until the last moment that his tongue was pushing a small ice cube into my hole. He had sucked it down a lot, so the sheer size wasn’t daunting. The smooth edges of the cube slid inside easily, and I gasped at the cold that filled my ass.
“How does that feel?” He checked my comfort level.
“Different.” I swallowed hard. I had an ice cube up my butt, cooling my insides. I didn’t have another word to describe the sensation but different.
“Different good or bad?” he pressed.
“Too soon to tell,” I answered. “I don’t think I hate it, but I can’t say I love it either.”
“Want me to stop?”
I shook my head. “No, not yet. Is that it?”
“Let’s do one or two more, and you tell me if you start liking it or really hating it.”
“Okay.”
He cupped my cheek, bent forward and kissed me hard, tongue sweeping inside my mouth. “I love you.”
Declan slipped two more small ice cubes into my ass, and by then, I felt it melting and water dripping down my taint. It definitely got interesting with the different pieces shoved inside me, cooling me, the numbing sensation that took over.
I still wasn’t sure what to make of the ice until Declan pushed his face between my legs. He lay on his back on the lounge and sucked the tip of my cock into his mouth.
“Fuck!” I gasped as the dual sensations in my ass and cock slammed into my gut with such unexpected force. I gripped the back of the chair harder and thrust with my hips, fucking Declan’s face. He took my entire length down his throat, gurgling around my cock. His fingers dug into my thighs until I eased up, and he released me.
“You fucking like that, don’t you, boy?” he whispered and kissed my thighs as he slid out from beneath me.
“That felt really good,” I said, my voice a little breathy. “What now?”
“And now I fuck you.”
He lubed up and settled himself behind me, gripping my thighs. He coated me with the slick and, amid the dripping cold water from my ass, pressed the crown of his dick to my hole and pushed inside me.
“Holy fuck!” Declan howled as he bottomed out. “That’s cold.”
“Feels good,” I moaned. I had hardly time to catch my breath before he pulled out and thrust again.
I thought the cold would have desensitized things, but as the friction of his cock warmed up my insides, each thrust resonated deep and hard. Declan’s nails clawed into the skin at my sides.
“Stroke your cock for Daddy, boy,” he hissed at me. “Come for me.”
I groped at my dick, thrusting into the cup of my palm while he drilled his cock into me. I panted against him, my groans loud as I vocalized just what he was doing to me. My body stiffened against him, and my ass clenched around his thick girth.
I stroked myself harder while Declan thrust deeper, his movements turning almost manic. At the last second, he pulled out, and his cum spurted onto my ass cheeks and lower back. That was the last straw, and I squeezed my own release onto the lounge.
I collapsed against the back of lounge, struggling to maintain my breathing. Declan was not done yet, and his thumb pushed into my hole gently, massaging and circling. It had become his habit after we’d had sex. He loved to view the beautiful damage he’d done and the way my ass remained gaped before slowly tightening back up.
“You still with me?” he asked and kissed the spot between my shoulder blades.
“Barely,” I answered on a groan. “You never fail to amaze me.”
He playfully bit my shoulder and nibbled at my ear. “That’s a good thing, then. Don’t move. I’ll clean you up.”
Like he needed to tell me that. We had a sort of rhythm when it came to sex. I was usually worn out by the time Declan was through with me. If I didn’t clean up right after, a nap was usually in order. I could already feel myself dozing off right there in my filthy used state.
Honestly, I’d never felt better.
Four
Declan
Once in the bathroom downstairs, I was finally able to slump against the vanity and take a deep breath. I caught a glimpse of my disheveled state in the mirror and chuckled softly. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore that Owen continued to wring emotions out of me I never knew I was capable of, feeling given my horrific childhood.
“You, my friend, are completely in love with your husband,” I informed my reflection.
There was no denial, no freaking out at the revelation, just a calm acceptance, knowing I was loved in return.
I snagged a towel and cleaned up, then returned to my office, where Owen was. He was in the same position I’d left him, leaning into the back of the lounge with his ass still in the air. I paused and stared at him, admiring this wonderful man who was so much more than a lover. He was my soulmate.
Soft snores reached my ears, and my face relaxed into an amused smile. Owen’s idea of pillow talk after sex included snores and sometimes mumbling in his sleep. He’d managed to fall asleep in the short time I’d gone to the bathroom.
With the damp towel in my hand, I walked over to him and, as gently as possible, cleaned him up. He did stir with a smile but didn’t open his eyes. He was adorable when he was like this, completely languid and helpless as a newborn.
When I had him all freshened up, I scrubbed his cum off the lounge and coaxed Owen to lie down. He pulled up his knees to his chest but barely raised his head for me to place a pillow underneath.
After throwing the towel into the hamper in the bathroom, I climbed the stairs to the bedroom and got one of the lighter bed linens. When I returned, Lucky was waiting outside the office. I opened the door, and he trotted over to the lounge and settled on the floor, with h
is head on his front paws, tail wagging. I draped the sheet over Owen’s nude form, dropping a kiss to his forehead.
His eyelashes fluttered open, and he gazed at me through unfocused eyes. “We still need to talk about Christmas dinner,” he mumbled. “I want it to be perfect.”
“It will be,” I told him. “It’s still two weeks away. Go to sleep, and when you’ve revived, we’ll talk about it.”
A smile curved his lips. “Okay, but no more sex to distract me.”
I chuckled, brushing the hair from his forehead. “I promise no more sex until we sort out our holiday plans.”
“Good.” He hugged the sheet to his chin and yawned. “And no more writing lines. It fucking sucks.”
“Which is why you write them. If you enjoyed it the way you do your spankings, it wouldn’t be punishment, now would it?”
He sighed and turned into the back of the lounge. “Okay, you win. Wake me up to make dinner, please.”
Of course I would do no such thing when I could order in for us. I left him sleeping with Lucky next to him and strode to my desk. I had every intention of returning to work, but then I glimpsed the notepad and pen he had left on my desk.
Hmm. I flipped through the pages, alarmed to find how detail-oriented Owen was about our Christmas. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My husband did enjoy family get-togethers as much as I loathed them. Well, I didn’t so much mind spending time with Owen’s kids, who were cool, even if they hadn’t been at first, but my family left a lot to be desired.
Charles and Poppy were a disaster waiting to happen, and I cringed every time I thought about that baby girl Poppy was bringing into the world.
Charles was trying, but I was still worried the kid would end up with the most fucked-up parents on the planet. For all his good intentions, Charles might not be the right person to raise Poppy’s baby as his own. A new child wouldn’t make up for his shortcomings with me, but if I told him that, he would just be pissed. For the first time we had a normal relationship going on, and I hated disrupting the peace.
Owen had said we all needed to try get along. After that fiasco of a Thanksgiving dinner, where Poppy made everything about her and we let her for the baby’s sake, I’d have thought Owen had learned from the experience. Nope, he had invited them to Christmas dinner with us, given the list of names written down in his neat handwriting under the heading “Invitees to Christmas Dinner.”
I’d have dissuaded him from inviting over our friends— friends, the concept sometimes still amazed me, since Ridge had been my only friend for such a long time. With his children taking a cruise together, though, he was obviously trying to fill the dinner table to make up for their absence, and if that was what it would take for him to not miss his kids too much, then of course, as his loving husband, I would support him all the way.
But everything was way too much for him to handle. He’d written pages and pages of notes in the notepad. Not just the menu he’d wanted to talk about, but he had everything planned out according to days.
In two days, we were supposed to get our Christmas tree, and next to it, he’d scribbled “long overdue.” I couldn’t get out of that, then. That same day, he had us down for getting Christmas ornaments. He’d appointed a day for decorating the trees and even a day for watching Hallmark holiday specials. Apparently, we were expected to be doing this while we wrapped gifts. For friends. He had underlined this. I guessed so we wouldn’t know what we’d gotten each other.
Somewhere on the list, he’d circled in red ink the date for the party at my office, with “convince Dec we’re going.” I groaned. He’d eventually wear me down, and I was as good as going already.
Every year our company hosted a huge Christmas event. First some volunteers would visit the charity we’d picked out to help during the season. Then in the evening, a party was held at the office for everyone to let their hair down and enjoy themselves. While other board members had given me good reports about the turnout and the festivities over the years, I had never attended one.
It seemed like all that was about to change. Owen had signed up to be this year’s Santa for the kids at the pediatric hospital. He’d asked my permission, knowing how I would feel about the cancer patients who were there.
The menu was one of the last things Owen had on his list. Christmas dinner was an elaborate event I knew he’d want to take care of on his own. He was adamant that David not lift a finger that day to help, although he was our butler. He wanted David to be a guest at our home. How could I argue in the face of his kindness and the way he treated my workers just as well as I did?
I tapped the pen against the notepad. With only two weeks to go, Owen would work himself ragged to get everything prepared for our Christmas plans. He already had so much on his plate with playing Santa Claus and helping Charles to plan the office party. Not to mention his writing. He still had gifts to buy and wrap. The least I could do was to help him out by making things lighter for him. I didn’t want him to work his fingers to the bone.
Reaching across my desk, I grabbed the handset and punched in the number for my father’s cell phone.
“Charles, I need a favor,” I said to him as soon as he picked up the phone. “Can we meet in an hour to talk?”
“Yeah, sure. I just dropped Poppy off from her appointment with her doctor.”
I winced at the tiredness in his voice. “How’s that going?”
“Not too good,” he admitted. “She just wants the baby out, but it’s not time yet.”
“Doesn’t she have two more weeks to go?”
“Yeah, but she was hoping the baby would come early.”
“She’ll come when she’s ready,” I said. “I’ll call you when I leave home, and we can decide where to meet up.”
“Sounds good.”
Five
Owen
Christmas was my favorite time of the year, and I was reminded of this when I went Christmas tree shopping with Declan. I’d experienced over forty Christmases, and I was still not tired of being infected by the holiday spirit.
Granted, I had a late start this year, but the yuletide season was beginning to seep into my bones, and I was determined for Declan to enjoy this year as well.
“You ready?” Declan asked me as he hurried down the steps of the house.
“Yes,” I answered, staring at the icy patches on the ground where light snow had fallen last night and frozen over. Seattle didn’t get much snow this time of year. Even a few flurries were enough to make everyone excited. “We have so much space now, and I can finally get a bigger tree.”
Declan stopped before me, leaned forward, and kissed the tip of my nose. “Owen, where’s your coat?”
“Huh?” Distracted by his kiss, it took me a while to understand his question, and I glanced down at myself. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt Oscar had gifted me last Christmas, I didn’t see anything wrong with my outfit.
“I don’t need it.”
“Wrong answer,” he said. “We’re going walking in the cold to find the perfect Christmas tree for the living room. Now go get your coat and your gloves. Then we can be on our way.”
“But it’s not that cold.”
“Your cheeks are already red. Come on, babe. Hurry up so we can get this show on the road. Or we’ll end up shopping for a fake Christmas tree we don’t have to chop ourselves.”
“No, I’m going! There’s no fun in fake trees.”
His threat worked like a charm. I hurried inside the house and raided the cloak closet. I grabbed the first one I found and, with gloves in my hands, made my way back out to the car parked outside.
“Much better.” Declan smiled at me when I reappeared, his white teeth shining in his handsome face.
“Well then, let’s go.” I slipped my arm through Dec’s, but he stood rooted to the spot, making no attempt to move toward the car. “Is something wrong?”
“Nope. I’m just looking at you,” he replied, his words making me blu
sh. “You’re so happy. I like that.”
“Christmas brings out the best and worst in me,” I admitted.
“Don’t I know it.” He finally took my arm and led me to the car. “You’re pushing us into every single thing you can think of.”
I greeted our new driver. We’d had to replace our previous driver once we learned that he’d been speaking to the press about my relationship with Declan.
It had been ridiculous, the way the local media had tried everything they could to get to the bottom of our marriage. The big question seemed to be why Declan, such a wealthy man and philanthropist, had married so far beneath him?
We had avoided the publicity, keeping our relationship private. Apparently, a media house had offered our driver an undisclosed sum of money for not only detailed information about Declan and me but also snapshots of us making out in Dec’s car and the privacy of our home.
Declan had fired the driver and threatened to tie up the media house in litigations and lawsuits that would leave them bankrupt. They hadn’t released the bulk of the information they’d received about us.
Unfortunately for our new driver, he’d have to work to earn our trust because of that experience. I still missed Silas, but hopefully, he would show up for our Christmas dinner so we could catch up. I also quite enjoyed seeing him with his two partners. I could never think of sharing Declan, but Silas and his men seemed to complete each other.
“I’m not pushing us into quite everything,” I said to Declan once we were on our way to Dave’s Big Tree Farm on Holman Road. “I didn’t ask you to go caroling with us this year, and we’re not going to see the school play.”
“I think you knew there’s no way in hell you could get me to go to either place,” he said on a grunt. “Can you picture me singing Little Drummer Boy?”
He was right. Declan couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, even if there was autotune somewhere in there to help him out. I hadn’t wanted to push him too much, though, with all my activities, so I alone would meet up with my usual group on Christmas Eve to go caroling throughout my old neighborhood.
Dec the Halls Page 3
