by Madison Faye
Colin
People say happy endings don’t exist in real life.
Those people are goddamn idiots.
They do. It’s not always easy, and it isn’t always just handed to you. And sometimes you have to walk right up to life and demand it. But if you’ve got the will, and the drive, and strength to not let go of the things you want, it’s there for the taking.
She was my happy ending.
It wasn’t exactly the best way I could have imagined meeting her parents for the first time — almost crashing a goddamn helicopter into their house, and then madly claiming their daughter’s lips right there in front of them, barefoot in the snow no less.
But like I said, life doesn’t always come easy, or how you think it should.
Introductions were made as I carried Bella inside. They knew who I was, of course, but they knew me from the papers, and as Isabella’s employer.
I looked her father right in the eye and set the record straight. Like a man — a man in love with a girl and ready to fight the world for her.
And if they were concerned at first about my intentions, especially with my being so much older, I put those to rest as I calmly told them I was in love with Bella, that I’d never not be in love with her, and that I’d protect her and care for her with everything I had.
I left out the bit about our first meeting.
After that, as her father made a pot of coffee, I sat down with a phone and I made things right.
All of it.
I called my legal team first, making sure they were armed to the teeth and ready for battle and anything Helen tried to throw our way. The pictures were bad, but her coming to Paris was probably worse. She’d actually broken the terms of her parole from the crash in leaving the country.
Next, I called my contacts at Mass General. Fuck Dr. Christopher Peters, who Helen thought was her ace in the hole. She knew a guy on the board?
Good for her. I knew everyone else on the board, including the chairman.
A quick inquiry turned up all sorts of shit on Dr. Peters, including preferential treatment of certain higher-end clients willing to pay cash, the fact that he was selling medical records to highest bidders, and icing on the cake — the proof they found of him selling prescription meds.
That last one is a Federal offense, by the way. It’s also what they strip you of your license for.
Next, I called my own doctors and made sure Isabella’s mother would begin treatment that week.
All bills to be sent to me.
It turns out her prognosis for recovery was fantastic as well, since they’d caught it so early.
By four in the morning, I was exhausted. Mr. and Mrs. Winters had gone to bed and Bella long ago crashed on the couch. I scooped her up into my arms, bringing her upstairs, and laid her in her bed. She murmured sleepily as I undressed her and got her under the covers. I peeled my own shirt off before climbing in after her, only then realizing that her eyes were open.
“Hi there.”
She grinned. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did.”
She smiled, pulling close to me as the wind howled outside. “So I guess this means—”
“This means I love you, in case that wasn’t clear.”
She grinned as I leaned in and kissed those lips.
“I love you too.” That mischievous look that I’d come to love crossed her face. “Sir,” she added with a husked voice.
We both moaned as we melted together, my hands sliding over that body I’d craved since she left, my mouth claiming those lips that were mine. I slipped her t-shirt up her body, pushing it over her breasts as my hand slid to cup and tease them. She whimpered quietly into my mouth, rocking her panty-clad hips against me as she ran her hands over my bare chest and abs.
“I want you in my mouth,” she gasped, her eyes hot with lust. My cock throbbed and I growled, my hand sliding down to roughly grab her ass. She pulled away, slipping the t-shirt off and pulling at my briefs before I caught her wrist, stopping her.
“Not so fast, Ms. Winters.” I grinned. “Here, now.” She gasped as I grabbed one of her legs and spun her around, dragging her up my body until her panty-covered pussy was hovered above my mouth, her legs on either side of me. Bella whimpered as my hand slid over her ass, my breath hot against her sweet little pussy through her panties.
“Oooh, yes, sir,” she moaned quietly. Her hands slid down my abs to the waist of my underwear, which she pushed down my legs. My cock sprang free, and she cooed as she wrapped her fingers around it and started to stroke me.
I pulled her down, yanking her panties to the side and letting my tongue slowly drag across her dripping wet pussy. She leaned forward, and I groaned as she damn near inhaled my cock, her sweet lips wrapping tight around it as she sucked me into her throat.
I pushed my tongue deep inside in response, tasting her perfect pussy and making her squirm as my hands grabbed her ass tightly. I moved her back and forth, fucking her with my tongue before I moved to her clit. I wrapped my lips tight around her little bud, teasing it with my tongue. I gathered wetness from her slick pussy and slid it up to tease her tight little ass.
She went wild on my cock.
She bobbed her mouth up and down, moaning widely as her tongue swirled over my crown. Her hands reached down to cup my balls, her fingers teasing me, and I groaned into her drooling pussy.
I could have come down that throat all night, but I wanted more.
Bella moaned as I slid out from under her, my cock slipping from her mouth.
“Sneaky,” she said coyly, biting her lip as I spun her around. “I wanted to taste your cum.” She gasped quietly as I pulled her into my lap, her legs going astride my hips, my cock pressing hotly against her pussy.
“Would you take a rain check on that if I promise to fuck this sweet little pussy until it comes all over my big cock instead?”
Her eyes went wide, and I grinned. I liked that I could make her blush like that, that I could scandalize her.
My hands grabbed her tight little ass firmly as I centered my cock at her entrance.
“Just like that,” I husked into her ear. “Be a good girl and sit right down on that cock.”
She moaned, kissing me fiercely as she started to sink her tight, wet slit right down my throbbing shaft. “Fuck,” she hissed. “Like this, sir?”
“Just like that,” I groaned as she sunk all the way down. “Exactly like that.”
We went slow that night at first, her rocking on top of me, my hands gripping her ass and grinding up into her as we made love in her room. She rode me up and down, her head thrown back, her hair strewn across her face, her fingers clawing at my back as she came again and again for me.
And then I’d pulled out, spun her face down on the mattress, made her bite the pillow, and fucked her like I knew she wanted to be fucked. With her parents sleeping right down the hall and her screams drowning in her pillow, I’d fucked that sweet pussy until she’d begged me to come — slamming her into the mattress on every thrust, her hair in my fist as she came like like a girl possessed.
And finally, I’d groaned, sliding in deep and gasping into the skin of her back as I’d pumped every single drop of my cum deep inside her.
After that, we slept like the dead, my arms wrapped around her and her breath on my chest.
Just like I’d wanted.
The perfect Christmas gift.
Epilogue
Isabella
When we’d woken up the next morning, the storm had died down. And in it’s wake, we all woke to a perfect winter scene of stillness and fresh snow. We had coffee in the kitchen I’d grown up in, before Colin invited all of us — my parents included — back to his home for Christmas Eve brunch.
He flew us.
Over the gorgeous, fresh winter snow, Colin flew me and my stunned parents back to the helipad at one of his buildings back in Boston. A waiting car took us to his townhouse, where his kids ran out the front doo
r to wrap their arms around him, and then me. Andrew made us brunch, my parents tried to swallow the shock of where they were, and Colin went out of his way to promise them he had every best intention for me.
That night, in front of the Christmas tree, he proved it even further, when he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
I don’t think any Christmas Eve will ever top that one.
After that, we just drifted into our very own happy ever after. I moved in permanently immediately, and married Colin the following summer.
Needless to say, we got a new nanny for Beckham and Lillian.
The kids were a big part of me coming into his life, and he told me later that their warming to me the way they did was one of the biggest reasons he’d asked me to be his wife. I had a special kind of relationship with them, and I carried the responsibility of that relationship with the highest regard. I wasn’t their mother — that I made clear. Stepmom, yes, but as broken as she was, they did have a mother. I loved the two of them as if they were my own kids, of course, but it was never my place to replace Helen, only to act as a better caregiver to them than she could be.
There was a sweet spot I found, somewhere between “friend” and “mom,” and it worked out wonderfully for all of us for a time.
Well, until the incident.
Helen had broken the terms of her parole by flying to Paris to intimidate Colin and I. A more vindictive man would have come after her for everything, and made sure she never saw her kids again. But while he was firm, and viciously protective of those he loved, the man I married wasn’t cruel.
Colin did eventually — eventually — grant supervised, in-home visitation of the kids with Helen. It was for Beckham and Lillian, of course, not for her, and for a time, it worked.
That is, until she’d shown up drunk to one of the visits and tried to attack Colin with a taser she’d smuggled into the house. After that, and after they found evidence of her planning another lawsuit against Colin — a breach of the terms of her visitation — Colin shut that door for good.
Cruel? No. Fiercely protective? You bet.
The thing is, Helen hadn’t ever actually been after her children, just a way back to Colin and his bankroll. After the incident at the house, when it was quite clear to her that she was never getting her hooks into him again, she quite readily and willingly signed away all parental rights to her kids. After that, she’d flown off to Europe somewhere with the disgraced Dr. Peters.
Her just giving up Beckham and Lillian like that sickened me though, and after that, the dynamic of our relationship changed.
Because after that, I formally adopted them as my own.
I finished school at Harvard, moved on to the Business School graduate program at the same college, and eventually moved into a leadership position with one of Colin’s acquisition firms. I loved the work and the challenges, and I loved that I’d been afforded a chance to do the work I’d always wanted to do.
I also really loved that my boss would occasionally drop by my office, lock the door, bend me over my desk with my hands tied behind my back, and fuck me until I was a puddle.
Separation of work and play?
No thanks.
Bridgette was born three years after we married — a beautiful baby girl and an anchor that just tied our little family all together.
Colin was nothing I was ever looking for, and yet everything I hadn’t even known I wanted. The kind, loving husband that centered me, the warm, doting father to our children.
And yet, he never stopped being the other things I loved about him.
Dominant.
Wickedly dirty and toe-curlingly demanding and controlling when I needed him to be.
We had both the sugar and the spice — the warm fuzzy love and the down and dirty steam that kept me moaning for more and begging for it harder. And he never disappointed on either front.
We still sometimes would go back to that club, where it all began. We’d approach each other as strangers, he’d buy me a drink, he’d let his hand trail over my skin. And just like that first time, I’d be dripping wet for him in seconds.
He’d take me through the crowds, pull us into the bathroom, tear my panties away from me and fuck me hard and dirty — rough and controlling just like I craved and just how he loved.
But unlike the first time, those times, we’d leave together, and go back the the life and the family we’d created together. And maybe that wasn’t everyone’s idea of love. Maybe to some people, my husband fucking me against the tiled wall of a nightclub bathroom with my torn panties binding my hands behind my back and my hair wrapped around his fist until I came like a banshee was something to look down on. Maybe to some people, him pulling me back through the club afterwards with our clothes disheveled, the sweet bruises from our roughness already rising, and his cum dripping down my thigh wasn’t love at all.
Those people didn’t bother us one bit, because it was for us.
We had it all, and that’s what mattered. We had the family, the love, and the sweet and the hot.
Sugar and spice, as they say, makes everything nice.
The End.
