A Very Marycliff Christmas

by Jerica MacMillan

  Matt opens the door to our house, the same house he’s been living in since before we met, and holds it for me, smacking my ass with a resounding slap as I walk past him. Stripping off my coat, I sashay my hips as I walk into the living room, casting a glance over my shoulder to catch the hungry look on Matt’s face before he closes the door and turns the deadbolt.

  A shiver of anticipation races down my spine.

  Hanging with our friends is always fun, and having Megan back in the mix makes for lively conversation as everyone trades good-natured digs. But Matt’s been flirting with me all night, teasing me by grazing his hand over my ass when no one was looking or sliding his hand between my thighs when I sat in his lap. Sure, it started off innocent enough, with his hand gripping my leg just above my knee. But he moved higher and higher while we all talked and laughed until he was indecently close to my crotch right there in front of everyone, which had the perverse effect of making me even more wet.

  Of course I’d given it right back to him, grinding on his dick as much as possible while I sat in his lap, rubbing up against him when we went to the kitchen for seconds and the Scotch oat bars I made for dessert. Oats and butter and brown sugar and chocolate makes for a treat no one can resist, and the pan was empty by the time we left.

  Now it’s time to follow through on all that teasing.

  Matt crosses the living room in three large steps, dropping his jacket on the couch and wrapping his arms around me as he takes my mouth in a kiss. One hand grips and kneads my ass. “Part of me wants to bend you over and turn your ass bright red, but the rest of me just wants to fuck you hard and fast right fucking now.”

  I let out a low, sexy chuckle. “What’s the rush?”

  He grinds his dick against my belly. “I’ve been aching to be inside you for what feels like years.”

  Poking out my lower lip in an exaggerated pout, I reach between us and rub him through his jeans. “Awww, poor baby. Did all your teasing backfire?”

  Another growl sounds in his chest, vibrating against mine as he pulls me even closer, my hand now pinned on his dick by the press of our bodies. “I don’t think so.” Then he kisses me again, his tongue sliding into my mouth as his hips move, rubbing himself against my hand.

  I end the kiss this time, sliding down to my knees without letting go of him. Leaning forward, I kiss his dick where it strains against the fabric, and he shivers at the contact. “Hannah,” he says, his voice gravel, my name somewhere between a benediction and a curse.

  His supple leather belt pulls smoothly out of the buckle, and I briefly consider asking him to use it on me tonight. But that might have to wait until later. Because I’m worked up enough that I don’t want to drag this out for too long either. Not right now, anyway.

  The button slides easily through its hole and then I’m dragging his zipper down as slowly as I can, each click of the teeth an agonizing tick ratcheting up the anticipation for what comes next.

  Matt curses as I spread the denim open then reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling out and down till his cock springs free, right in front of my mouth.

  Now I waste no time, licking up and down the shaft before sucking the head into my mouth and circling it with my tongue.

  Matt’s hand finds its way into my hair, and I love doing this for him. The connection. The joy of giving him pleasure. How grateful he is for it, and how he shows his gratitude afterward.

  I just love him.

  He starts moving his hips, shallow jabs into my mouth, and I wrap my hand around the base of him to make sure he doesn’t accidentally go too far. I’ve been working on taking him deeper, but with a belly full of food, tonight’s not the night to push my limits.

  Soon his hand tightens in my hair, and he pulls free of my lips. I sit back on my heels and look up at him. Bending, he cups my face and kisses me deeply. I’m lost in his kiss, my hands gripping his wrists as my only anchor.

  He pulls me to my feet and lifts my top. I raise my arms so he can pull it off then reach behind me to undo my bra. His hands immediately go to my naked breasts, brushing the nipples with his thumbs, priming them for his mouth. He takes his time sucking on each one, raising it to a hard, shiny peak. When he’s done, he studies my nipples, letting out a soft grunt of satisfaction.

  My pants and thong come off next and Matt bends me over the back of the couch and nudges my legs apart with his knee. His hand runs down my spine and over my ass, a gesture of affection that he follows up with a sharp slap to my right ass cheek.

  I let out a soft cry of surprise, relishing the spreading heat after the initial sting that he rubs into my cheek. Then he slaps the other cheek, following it up the same way.

  “God, I love having you like this,” he murmurs. “Bent over. Ready and waiting for whatever I want to do to you. It’s always been the best high.”

  I wiggle my ass, tempting him to spank me some more. He obliges with two more quick slaps, and then the broad head of his crown nudges against my opening. We both groan as he slides inside me.

  “Always so wet for me,” he says, his hands gripping my hips as he rocks into me slowly.

  “Always,” I confirm.

  “I love you so fucking much, Hannah.” His pace increases.

  “I love you too, Matt.”

  He bends forward, his chest against my back, his hands sliding up my rib cage to cup my breasts as he pounds into me hard and fast, just like he promised. I arch into his grip, angling my hips so that each stroke hits me the way I need.

  “That’s right, Hannah. Let me feel you come on my cock,” he whispers in my ear. My whole body draws up tight at his words, and seconds later all that tension releases in an explosion of sparks dancing across my skin, my muscles convulsing around him.

  He growls out his encouragement, his hips losing their rhythm as he rides me through my orgasm and into his own.

  Once he’s spent himself inside me, he stays for a moment, turning my head so he can kiss me, slow and sweet, the perfect juxtaposition of Matt’s contrasting sides—rough and dirty sandwiched between moments of exquisite tenderness. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Layla

  A zip of nerves sends my pulse racing as Evan parks in front of Daniel and Elena’s house, the warm amber glow of the porch light a welcoming beacon in the dark, drizzly evening. It’s after five, I have to pee, and I’m hungry. Daniel told Evan that they’d make dinner, so all we’ve had are random road trip snacks.

  It’s been over three years since we’ve been back in Spokane, and even though Evan and Daniel still talk regularly, my friendship with Elena has been relegated to the surface-level social-media-only former acquaintances kind of relationship. We interact with each other’s photos and posts, but we don’t regularly chat. So staying at their house has me feeling wrong-footed, even though the invitation was enthusiastic from both of them, and I appreciate the cost savings of not needing to get a hotel.

  Evan turns off the car and reaches in the backseat for our jackets. Once we struggle into them in the confines of the car, he leans over and gives me a kiss, his lips soft and reassuring. When he ends the kiss, he touches his forehead to mine. “They’re our friends, babe. They’re happy we’re here.”

  I huff out a laugh. He knows me too well. “I know,” I tell both him and myself. “It’s just been a while.”

  Another swift kiss. “It’ll be just like old times, I promise. Remember how we used to all hang out together? And I bet their living room here is bigger and has nicer furniture. One of the perks of at least one of them having a full-time job for more than a year.”

  Daniel’s in his third year teaching math and coaching football at one of the local high schools, and Elena is in her last year of law school, while Evan started a PhD program this year. I graduated with my Master’s in Library Science last spring, but only managed to get a job at a library system in one of Seattle’s outlying suburbs a few months ago. The commute sucks, but I’m
hoping that once Evan’s done with the bulk of his in-person class load, we can move closer. Of course once he finishes his PhD, he’ll be on the hunt for a job as a professor, and then we’ll have to deal with potentially moving and me looking for a job all over again, depending on if he gets an offer good enough to make moving worthwhile. Though with the current trends toward adjunct professorships in academia, that might be a long shot. But those are worries for another time.

  Right now, it’s time to go face old friends, find a bathroom, and eat.

  We climb out of the car, Evan pulling our suitcase out of the trunk while I grab our pillows and my purse out of the backseat and we hustle to the shelter of the front porch. Evan knocks authoritatively, and we glance at each other while we wait for the door.

  Daniel answers, warm light spilling out when he opens the door. A wide smile on his face, he holds his hand out to Evan.

  They clasp hands and pull each other in close for hearty back slaps, exchanging the usual greetings and pleasantries. “You made it! How was the drive?”

  “Good. Wet. Uneventful.”

  “Come in, come in!” Daniel steps out of the way, letting us into their living room. Cream colored carpet meets the small patch of vinyl flooring that is the entryway, leading directly into the open floor plan living room. A large flat screen TV sits on top of an entertainment center to the left, with a matching sofa and loveseat combo opposite it, a simple espresso colored coffee table in the middle bearing an assortment of remotes and a few books. A breakfast bar separates the kitchen from the dining area, where a dark wood table is set with plates.

  “Hey, guys!” Elena calls from the kitchen, coming over to give us both welcoming hugs. And Evan’s right. Being back feels almost like no time has passed—the hugs, the warm welcome, the smell of pizza making my stomach growl.

  Daniel laughs at the sound. “I see you brought your appetite.”

  “Let’s get you all inside and then we can eat,” Elena says, gesturing for us to follow her down the hall to our right. “We have the guest room all set up for you. You can dump your things, and the bathroom’s right next door.” She leads us to a sparsely furnished bedroom on the right and gives me a rueful grin. “It’s not much, I know. We don’t have a lot of out-of-town guests, but the bed is comfy, and the blankets are warm. If you need extras, they’re on the top shelf in the closet, and there’s plenty of room to hang things up. I’ll let you get settled, and then we’ll eat. We got your favorites from Mangiamo’s.” With a smile, she leaves the room calling, “Come on out when you’re ready!” over her shoulder.

  Evan parks the suitcase by the closet while I toss our pillows on the bed and take off my jacket. I set my phone on the nightstand, the twin of the one on the other side, the only other pieces of furniture in the room other than the bed. The wall above the bed bears a colorful painting, and that’s it.

  Stepping closer, Evan wraps his arms around me, bending his head to give me another kiss. I snuggle into his chest with a sigh. “See?” he says, his voice rumbling under my ear. “This’ll be fine.”

  “I know. You’re right. But you know how I am.” I shrug, and he rubs my back, dropping a kiss on the top of my head before stepping back.

  “I do. Now go to the bathroom so we can eat. I’m starving.”

  Laughing, I do what he says, waiting in the bedroom for a moment of peace while he uses the bathroom before we head out to the living room together. Yes, my worries about things being weird don’t seem like they’ll come true. And sharing space with another couple for two nights isn’t a big deal, really. But I’m a creature of habit and a homebody, so taking a moment to breathe is important.

  Evan pokes his head through the door, holding out his hand to me with a happy smile on his face. Standing from the bed, I smile back, take his hand, and let him lead me out to the living area, where Daniel and Elena are waiting.

  “Grab a plate!” says Elena, gesturing at the table. The pizza boxes are open on the counter, and Evan hands me a plate, gesturing for me to go first. I always feel awkward at these kinds of things where I’m the first one to grab food. Like I’m selfish or think I’m more important. But Evan’s right behind me, and Daniel and Elena are grabbing their own plates. Clearly they’re trying to be good hosts by letting us go first, and Evan’s being sweet. So I squash down my awkward feelings and get two slices of pizza while Daniel rattles off the drink options.

  I claim a soda, and Evan gets a beer, and we sit next to each other at the table, digging in while Daniel and Elena get their food and get settled.

  “So how’s coaching going?” Evan asks as soon as Daniel’s seated and has a mouthful of pizza.

  Daniel flips him off while he chews, Elena snickering into her napkin around her own bite of pizza, and I grin while I sip my drink. I’ve always enjoyed watching these three interact. Elena treats Evan like a younger brother—I guess because she has one of her own—and Daniel and Evan were teammates and roommates for so long that their conversations are always full of inside jokes and goodnatured teasing that speaks to the depth of their friendship. As an only child, spending the last part of my undergrad with them gave me that taste of found family you always read about in books and see in the movies and on TV. I have to admit, I’ve missed it more than I realized since we left.

  Daniel talks at length about his team and their failed run at making it to state. “They played hard, but in the end, we couldn’t make it past the semifinals. Still better than our school has done in years, though, so we celebrated making it as far as we did and plan on getting farther next year. This was the best team we’ve put on the field in at least a decade, though. It’s fun working with them, watching them grow and improve their skills.”

  Evan nods and looks at Elena. “How about you? You’re almost done with law school, right? What’s next?”

  Dropping her eyes, Elena shrugs and picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza and pops it in her mouth. Uh-oh. I think Evan may have inadvertently struck a nerve. “Well,” she says slowly, drawing out the word. “I still have one more semester of school. Then I have to decide where to take the bar exam and study my ass off. I have an internship lined up, so that’ll be good too.”

  “Will you be able to keep working there after you’ve passed the bar and are officially a lawyer?” I ask.

  She shrugs again. “Maybe?” But before I can ask for clarification, she turns the question around on me. “What about you? How are things? I know you had some poems published in a few literary journals. Are you still writing? How’s work going?”

  Blinking, my cheeks heat in a reflexive reaction to receiving attention for my writing. I should be used to it by now. I’ve taken creative writing classes constantly for most of the last decade, but it’s different when you’re talking about writing with other writers versus talking about writing with the driven law student with the prestigious internship who wants to fight for immigration reform and human rights. Somehow writing poetry and working in a library seems … small in comparison.

  Evan jumps in and answers for me. “She submitted a collection to a chapbook competition that comes with publishing as a prize, so we’re waiting to hear back on that.”

  “That sounds exciting,” Elena says, smiling. “What’s a chapbook?”

  Fighting back a giggle that’s part nerves, part genuine amusement, I wipe my mouth with my napkin and answer her question. “It’s what they call a short volume of poetry by one author. It’s actually a reference to the style of binding used for small booklets. But like Evan said, the winner gets a publishing contract and a cash prize. It would be exciting to win, but tons of people enter these things, so my chances are slim. I’m still sending poems to other literary publications, though. I have a calendar where I track everything.”

  Daniel’s eyes widen in his face. “That sounds kind of intense.”

  I shrug and sip my drink, looking down. “It’s not that bad. Once the system’s in place, it’s just a matter of keeping up. Since
Evan still has tons of homework, I have plenty of time in the evening to work on it. Plus, all that unfettered thinking time while I drive to and from work … I use my voice recorder app a lot to capture thoughts when they come to me and refine them later when I get home.”

  “That sounds like way more fun than listening to the audio version of law textbooks like I do when I’m driving around,” Elena says wryly.

  Laughing, I glance at her. “I agree. I’d much rather write poetry than listen to law textbooks. And the library gig is going well. I’m starting to find my footing there. It’s a small community network, so you get to know the patrons pretty quickly, at least the regulars. And my coworkers are nice.”

  We spend the rest of the evening catching up, swapping stories about coworkers, professors, students, and life in a way that doesn’t work as well on video chats or on social media. And Evan was right. In a lot of ways, it’s like no time has passed. I’m glad we’re here.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Chris

  Grumpy and achy, I stand in the cramped aisle of the tiny plane and reach in the overhead bin for my carry-on with my good arm. The strap from the sling digs into the side of my neck, rubbing the skin raw, and I can’t fucking wait to see Megan, get her alone, and get this damn sling off. I don’t need it, but the therapist recommended using it while traveling as a reminder not to overuse my right arm with its bum shoulder and also as a visual cue to let others know that I’m injured.

  Because broadcasting my weaknesses is my favorite thing to do. Ha.

  I’ve been up since early this morning, even though I caught an evening flight to Spokane, and it’s been a long day. I spent the early morning packing and getting ready to leave, wishing I could’ve gone with Megan when she came to Spokane days ago, missing her more than I have a right to considering it’s only been two fucking days. Once that was done, I spent the day with my coaches and therapists in endless meetings and sessions to review my progress and discuss whether I’ll be in playing shape in time for the postseason.