by Abby Knox
Moments later, we’re in my truck, making out like teenagers while the burning building illuminates the darkness around us.
She gives me a wicked grin and unzips the front of my firefighter uniform. She doesn’t have to do much work to find what she wants, as Big Lars is already standing at attention when she takes it out.
Her hand on my cock after all this time still makes every cell in my body roar with need.
I rub my hand on the small swell of her tummy. “Pretty soon you won’t be able to suck me off in the truck.”
She gives me a wicked grin as she climbs up to run her sweet little tongue across my lips. “Mmm. Life…finds a way.”
She runs the pad of her thumb over my tip, smearing the little bead of pre-cum.
“Shit, woman,” I grit out. I have a feeling she’s never going to stop driving me insane with that sass-bucket mouth of hers.
Like right now, she’s making me watch her suck my pre-cum off her thumb. “Fuck,” I say, burying my hands in her wild mane of hair.
She goes down and gleefully, enthusiastically takes my cock all the way into her mouth.
I exhale loudly and relax into the moment, like the big canine I am.
I can’t believe how lucky I am that I’ve found and been able to keep this light in my life.
She feasts herself on every inch of me, and when she’s done, she swallows me whole. Every drop.
One way or another, there’s never going to be a moment where our connection is broken.
There’s no other person I’d rather keep my eyes on for the rest of my life.
Epilogue
Wendy
Ten years later
“Babe, I got this!”
Lars is shouting at me to let go of Boris’s hair and to put my gun away.
My husband is barreling up the mountain trail, just catching up to me and my latest capture, a Russian mafia thug we’ve been tailing up and down the eastern coast of Africa.
Lars may be big, strong and agile, but I’m a faster runner.
It’s what makes us such a good team as spies for the CIA.
“But I caught him first!” I shout back as I sit on top of the guy, who is face down on the ground.
I turn my attention to the dirtbag whose spine I’m pressing down with my knee, and I question him in his own language. “Where are the girls?” I say in Russian.
The man spits back at me that he’d rather eat glass than admit anything to a female.
“What is he saying?” Lars says, finally catching up.
“Well, if you would have taken that Russian class like you were supposed to…” I say.
Lars growls. “He’s cussing at you in another language, isn’t he? Come on, let me clock him. Just one time.”
I click my tongue at him. “No, Lars. There are procedures to follow. And I’m gonna sit right here until Interpol arrives. You are not gonna beat him up.”
“Come on!”
I give him a stern look, and then my phone rings.
I look at the screen. “It’s the kids! Get down here, we almost forgot our FaceTime date.”
I answer it as Lars crouches down next to me. Fletcher and his wife, LuLu, appear on the screen. Their own kids appear in and amongst our four little hooligans: Trace, our almost-ten-year-old, and Jet, eight, Brick, six and our only girl, Blossom, four. They’re all speaking at once.
I remind them to take turns.
“Now what have you all been up to? I hope you all have been being good for Fletcher and LuLu.”
“I climbed the whole side of the mountain without any gear!” says Trace.
“Gave me a heart attack,” LuLu comments.
I nudge Lars. “This is your fault.”
He shrugs and accepts responsibility.
“Fletcher has been teaching me archery!” says Jet. I smile, but my heart aches, wishing I had been there to see this.
“I can count to 100 in Spanish and Mandarin,” says Brick.
I clap. “That’s my boy!”
Then little Blossom pipes up. “Is there snow in the Seychelles, Mommy? When are you coming home?”
Lars says, “I’m sorry, we have one more job after this and we’ll be home in time for Christmas. You guys are going to have to handle the decorating on your own this year.”
The kids all lament, and I have to interrupt.
“Actually, we’ll be on a plane home tonight,” I say. I look at Lars. “Doctor’s orders, I have to take a leave of absence from this job for the next eight months. This job is too dangerous in my condition.”
“Mama’s having another baby!” The kids cheer.
Lars shakes his head. “Man, I was really hoping to make it to Jordan to follow that lead…”
I scoff. “Well, if you don’t want babies spoiling all your fun, you could try keeping your hands off me for five minutes.”
He growls and his arm crams me close to him. “Never.” He lands a soft, sweet kiss on my lips and all the kids squeal and groan in delight and disgust at Mommy and Daddy kissing.
We continue our little makeout session long after we hang up the phone.
“Excuse me, I’m still down here,” says Boris in Russian, who I realize I’m still sitting on.
“Don’t you fucking cuss at my wife in Russian,” Lars says, knocking Boris on the back of the head with his open palm.
“He wasn’t cussing,” I say.
Lars shrugs. “Don’t want him talking at you either way.”
“You know, maybe we should start taking separate assignments if these bad dudes are gonna get you all worked up when they so much as look at me.”
“I can’t help it, baby, I gotta keep an eye on you.”
He really does. My big Labrador retriever husband needs to keep his paws and eyes on me at all times.
And honestly, I still like it.
About the Author
Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling. This is Abby’s seventeenth book.
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Also by Abby Knox
The Windy City Holiday Duet
Pumpkin and Spice
Comfort and Joy
From the Small-Town Bachelor Series
(each can be read as a stand-alone!)
Take Me Home
Game Face
Written in the Stars, a special Christmas edition
Walk With Me
Stay the Night
Off-Season Stud (stand-alone)
His Vinyl Vixen (stand alone)
Also coming from Abby in 2018…
The Christmas Pickup
Chapter One
Bear
Heavy snow is blanketing my driveway tonight, and the wind is just beginning to pick up and whip all the white stuff into a frenzy.
Pretty soon, the drifts will swoop halfway up my front steps and the street will be invisible.
But it’s all child’s play to the monstrosity parked out front. The only tires bigger than those on my tow truck belong on a tractor. Not to mention the enormous snowplow I added on the front end. There’s nothing my sweet Snow Angel can’t plow through. Yeah, it’s a sissy nickname for a tow truck, but I dare you to say that to my face.
The small city I live in may appear like a winter wonderland on Christmas Eve. It certainly is that way for everyone who may be tucked snugly into the warm living rooms, next to their Christmas trees and lit fireplaces. But for anyone out there on the roads, it’s a nightmare.
I’m watching the news, and it doesn’t look good.
The local weather girl is telling me the overnight blizzard is going to create white-out conditions on all major roads tonight. Slick surfaces out on the country roads.
After a while, I’m barely registering what she’s saying. So why am I watching this?
The weather she’s describing may be ugly, but she is anything but. Sweet gingerbread, is she adorable.
I’ve admired her on the television from the comfort of my living room for the longest time.
Our local news station is relatively low key in this small city of about 50,000 people, so they aren’t really uptight about the dress code on Christmas Eve night. Tonight she’s wearing a fitted red sweater with elves all over it, and dangly wreath earrings. And I notice she’s wearing her snowflake scarf. She rotates between that one, a red one with candy canes and a white one with holly berries every winter season. I don't know shit about fashion, but I take notice of everything when it comes to her.
She’s also wearing black jeans that are nice and tight. The whole ensemble shows off some sweet curves and she’s jutting one hip out as she talks. Her voice feels like my favorite Christmas carol.
“I’m standing outside the Weather Center right now, and as you can see," the adorable Mary Reed says as she gestures around, "the snow is already falling pretty heavily and the wind gusts are getting stronger by the minute. I advise everyone to stay off the roads if you can. If you’re not already at your Christmas Eve destinations for the night, I strongly suggest you stay where you are. It’s better to stay safe than to get to that party tonight, folks."
She really ought to take her own advice and wear a coat and a hat outside, I think. But I’m not going to complain about seeing her sassy little hip do that thing while she’s smiling for the camera. Sometimes I think she should have been a model. But then she wouldn’t live in this city and I’d lose my weather girl. And that would not be acceptable.
Mary Reed’s sleek, shoulder-length brown hair has been hairsprayed within an inch of its life. I’d love to see it wild and soft and sexy, falling across my pillow. Woven between my fingers. Feathering across my abs while her soft, thick lips tease their way down…
But that’s a Christmas fantasy that's too much to ask for. Plenty of eligible bachelors in this city are probably lined up if she’s not already taken. Guys with way more money and more interesting jobs than me.
I turn off the TV and lace up my boots. Pull on my stocking cap and gloves and grab my keys.
As soon as Martha, light of my life, hears the jingle of keys, she comes running.
I open the door and she bounds outside. I have to hustle to open the tow truck door for her, and as soon as I do, she launches herself into the cab.
I drive the few blocks to my mom’s house, and even in that span of five minutes, the wind is really started to blow. Snow is starting to drift up the sides of houses and buildings. Sidewalks are already covered over with sleek white sheets.
And it’s just getting started. Tonight is gonna be a bitch.
Mom opens the door as soon as I start heading up the walk. Martha runs to her. She gives Martha a hug even before she puts her arm around her own son’s neck. It’s OK though, that's the effect Martha has on people.
“I’m not coming inside, Ma, I don't wanna get snow everywhere. Besides Mary Reed says we’re gonna get pounded tonight, so I’m headed out right away.”
Mom knows me too well and smirks at me. “She’s a cute one, that Mary Reed. You should write her a letter!”
“Ma, come on. I’m not a creep.”
“It’s not creepy! She’d love you.” She pops over to kiss me and I have to bend down so she can reach my forehead. Then she taps me on the cheek.
“Who wouldn’t love this face?”
“Any woman in her right mind?”
“Don’t talk smack about my son. You be careful tonight.”
“Always am, Ma. Thanks for taking Martha.”
I say goodbye to my mom, telling her I’ll be back tomorrow to spend Christmas with her.
I know my mom is just looking out for me and wants me to be happy.
But tonight, I’ve got other things on my mind than women. Tonight is all about giving back by helping people stranded in the snowstorm. And there’s no way I can see a smart cookie like Mary Reed needing my help.
Coming Christmas 2018!
