His Sugarplum: Curves For Christmas

by Love, Frankie

  “You look so fucking hot,” he tells me, pulling on boxers and a tee shirt.

  I follow him to the kitchen. “You think?” I ask, knowing full well I’m fishing for a compliment. He turns to me in the hallway. My back is against the bare wood wall. There are picture frames hanging in a row on the wall. I'm in a real home.

  “Yeah. You look fucking sexy in my clothes. I don't want you to take them off except for I'm gonna need you to later.” He moves a hand under the robe, fingering my nipple, massaging my breasts. My pussy tingles with excitement.

  “Agreed. We need to eat, after all, we worked up quite an appetite, but after? I’ll take everything off for you.”

  He takes my hand, threading my fingers with his and he leads me to the kitchen. My bare feet against his wood floors. It feels like I'm in a Christmas movie. It's pitch dark out. The fire still glows, and he opens the fridge, pulling out food. A carton of eggs. A pitcher of milk, a loaf of bread.

  “You like French toast?” he asks me.

  I lick my lips. “Love it.”

  “Good. It's my specialty.”

  “Oh, you're a cook too? It's good to know.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “You making plans for our future?”

  My cheeks heat up. “I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just really enjoying this moment.”

  “Yeah, it's the best holiday I've had in years,” he admits. He finds a carton of orange juice and sets it on the counter. Then from deep in the fridge, he procures an ice-cold bottle of champagne. ‘Mimosas. That seems Christmassy, right?”

  I laugh. “I think so. I'm honestly really surprised. A man like you has a stocked refrigerator. It's impressive.”

  “Hey, I have a lot to offer. Isn't that what I've been telling you?”

  “You have. It’s just, you're such a grown-up.”

  He chuckles. “I'm hoping that's a compliment.”

  I nod. “It is, Smith. It's a big compliment. I've never been around guys who were men. I've only been around guys who are assholes.”

  “That's a sad fucking story,” he tells me, running his hand over my cheek. He kisses me and my belly flip flops. “But I intend to change the ending.”

  I smile as he pulls out a bowl and begins mixing eggs and cinnamon and sugar. A little bit of milk. Butter dropped in a cast-iron skillet and thick slices of bread dipped in the batter sizzling on the grill. It smells like Christmas. Smith pops a cork, pouring us glasses of champagne, topping them with OJ.

  “This can be our tradition,” he tells me. “Breakfast at midnight on Christmas morning.”

  I smile, closing my eyes and making a wish in lieu of a toast because these words, the ones I want to say, I can't manage to utter out loud. They're too sacred, too secret, too precious to say or to give away. My wish though, is that this does become my tradition, my story, the beating of my wild heart.

  He must know that whatever I'm feeling is too deep to say out loud because he doesn’t press. Instead, we take our food and move to the living room.

  He stokes the fire and the Christmas lights glitter in the room. The stockings hung on the mantel are empty, but our hearts seem so full.

  “I'm going to feel bad in the morning when it's Christmas and there's not a single present for you under that tree,” he tells me.

  “We just met. I don't expect a gift. Besides, I don't need presents from you. You've already given me plenty.”

  “The hot cocoa or the French toast?”

  I laugh. “I was meaning an orgasm.”

  He chuckles and I lean into him, our shoulders brushing together as we eat. This moment is so pure, so tender. I wish it could last forever.

  “I need more syrup,” he says, and he stands and walks toward the kitchen. I see the thick outline of cock in his boxers and I know he has more on his mind than syrup. He's thinking about getting me back in bed and that thought sends a thrill through me.

  I set my nearly empty plate on the coffee table and I follow him to the kitchen. “Did you find the syrup?” I ask.

  He's rooting around in a cupboard. “Not yet,” he says, and I move behind him.

  “Let me help.” My hands run over his back.

  He chuckles. “I don't know if you're gonna find any there.

  “No,” I say dropping to my knees and spinning him around. I pull down his boxers, taking hold of his big thick cock. “I don't want any syrup. I already have something plenty sweet to put in my mouth.”

  7

  Smith

  When I turn around, Sugarplum is on her knees. My bathrobe is on the floor and she's naked before me. The vision is better than any Christmas gift I fantasized about receiving as a child.

  Sugar cups my balls and takes my thick cock in her sweet little mouth. I groan. The pleasure of being touched by her mounts so damn fast. My balls are tight and full. I need to release my seed down her throat, fill her belly. All I can think about is breeding her, about filling her up with all of me, making her belly swell with my child, making her my now and forever. It's a lot. I get that it’s way too much for her right now. So, instead of focusing on the future, I focus on the moment.

  Sugarplum strokes my shaft and begins to suck me off like the good little present she is. My angel who came from the heavens and landed on my doorstep. I groan as she sucks me, my cock so hard as she bobs her head up and down.

  I run my fingers through her hair pulling the hair tie out, so I can do what I dreamt about doing since the moment I saw her in the bar… run my fingers through her long locks. She draws her mouth tighter around my cock. She moves up and down like the good little girl she is, sucking me off until my come is dripping down her throat.

  She moans in pleasure. “Oh, you taste so good,” she says, pulling me out, sucking me dry.

  My come shoots over her perfect breasts, her big round tits.

  “Fuck me, Smith,” she whispers, the dirty word dripping from her mouth the same way my come does. I pull her up to stand. I need more than my girl sucking me off. I need to fuck her here and now.

  I twist her around, placing her palms on the counter as I take her sweet-ass cheeks in my hand. Her pussy is so slick and creamy, and my cock hardens as I run my fingers over it. She's so wet and ready, and I pushed my cock inside her, needing to fuck my girl more than I need anything else.

  She gasps as I fill her up from behind. Her hole the sweetest place for my big thick cock. I kiss the base of her neck as I run a hand over her spine. I take her hard against the counter knowing this is better than any syrup I could find. Her sweet pussy is the sweetest fucking thing I've ever had.

  I finish and she does too, moaning loudly. My name on her mouth, “Oh, Smith. Oh, Smith.”

  She needs more, needs me. I twirl her around. I pick her up and sit her down on the counter, spreading her thighs. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I pull her to me kissing her hard. Her creamy cunt drips on my counter, my cock throbbing with release and want and a need so deep. I've never experienced anything like it before.

  God, I can't believe I was a virgin before tonight. I spent so many years waiting for her. If only I'd found her sooner. But, by God, was she worth the wait. I kiss her, our tongues twirling together. Our bodies melting as one. I lift her off the counter and carry her to my room, to our bed.

  I run my fingers over every inch of her skin. My fingers needing her cunt. That's where my hand rests as a thought, as a single thought presses deep against my heart: I love her.

  I love her.

  I love her so damn much.

  I want to say it, but by the time I manage to muster the courage, her eyes have closed. My sweet caresses have lulled her to sleep.

  With tender love, I kiss her pussy. “I love you,” I whisper. I kiss her belly, her breasts, her neck, her lips. “I love you,” I say as she falls asleep in my bed. I pull her into my arms. “I love you,” I say that as she sleeps against my chest. “I love you,” I say as I tried to figure out what I'm going to say to her brother when he shows up he
re at daybreak. I fall asleep vowing that no matter what happens next – she will be mine.

  * * *

  When I wake in the morning, I do my best to quietly slip out of bed, pulling the flannel sheets up over Sugar and kiss her cheek. I want to warm up the cabin with a fresh fire while letting her sleep as long as possible. I realize there isn't much kindling, so I head outside once I've dressed.

  I pull on my work boots and my work coat, and a cap over my head. I slip my revolver in my back pocket to cover my bases, knowing that the cougars have been coming mighty close to the cabin lately. I don’t want to deal with a catfight on Christmas. I find my ax and I began to split some logs. It doesn't take long to get an armful and when I have what I need, I head back to the cabin, stomping the snow off my boots.

  A pretty layer of snow fell while we were sleeping and it’s the epitome of a white Christmas.

  Inside, I find Sugar in my robe, a cup of coffee in her hand and she smiles at me. “I was staring at you out the window. You look like the sexiest lumberjack in the world. My romance novels need to step it up a notch.”

  “I like that you have a thing for lumberjacks.”

  “Well, ever since last night, I’ve narrowed my interest in mountain men to one man.”

  “Is that so?” I ask, pulling her close with my empty hand.

  “Mhmm.” She gives me a kiss before lifting her coffee cup. “Want some?”

  “Sure. Just let me drop this first. Then we need to have a heart-to-heart.”

  She nods, swallowing before turning back to the kitchen. I know I should go straight to the fire to stoke it, but I can't help but watch her as she walks, her cute little ass bouncing with each step. She pauses. “You watching me?”

  “No, just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.”

  She laughs, her head turning over her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Smith.”

  I stoke the fire and she comes back into the living room with a cup of coffee for me.

  “So, anything you want to talk about besides, you know, the fact that my brother is going to show up and whisk me away from you forever?”

  “Right about that,” I say. “Look, I'm going to make this easy on both of us. I fucking—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, the rev of several motorcycle engines blasts us.

  “Fuck, I guess that’s him.”

  She nods. “I should get dressed.”

  I take hold of her wrist before she can walk away. “You're not going anywhere.”

  She looks at me as if I'm a stranger. “Last night was perfect, Smith, but you don't know my brother.”

  “I know he's a shitty poker player.”

  “Sure, but he’s a drunk and he's stupid, which is a really bad combination. A stupid drunk is more dangerous than a smart guy sober.”

  “Fair enough,” I say, “but that doesn't mean he's taken you anywhere.”

  “As I said, you don't know my brother,” she says as fists pound against my front door. Rizz is here hollering at me to open up.

  “I want Sugar. Now,” he demands.

  “Go in my bedroom,” I tell her. “Don't come out. Promise me.”

  She swallows, then spins around and rushes to my bedroom, shutting the door. I hear it lock into place. Fuck. She really is scared. I open my front door and step outside. I see Pussy Juice, Rimmed, and Rizz waiting for me.

  “Guess you guys didn't need much sleep, huh?” I ask thinking it might lighten the mood, but they're not interested.

  “Where is Sugar?” Rizz asks.

  “Doesn’t matter. She's not coming with you,” I tell him plainly. “Look, you said you wanted her off your hands. You get what you wanted.”

  “I have a reason I need her.”

  “And what's that?” I ask. “You want to do some illegal shit with a woman who can make up her own goddamn mind? The guys all laugh as if I'm the fool. “She's not yours to take.”

  What are you going to do?” Rizz asks. “It's three against one. I may not be the smartest guy on the block, but I know enough to say that's a stupid way to go.”

  “You think you’re going to show up here, shoot me, and take Sugar? Is that what you think?” I ask. “She said you were stupid, but I didn't realize how fucking dumb you actually are.”

  Rizz’s face is red with anger. My words riling him up just like I knew I would, but I don't care.

  “Listen to me, I don't lie, I don't cheat, and I sure as hell don't back down from a fight.”

  “Is that a threat?” Rizz asks, spitting at my feet.

  “No, it’s a fucking fact.”

  Rizz pulls out a gun, and so do his guys. Suddenly, all three have them pointed to me, their fingers on the triggers, and all I can think about is Sugar. Her being left with these men.

  “Don’t shoot,” Sugar says. “Or I will.”

  I pull in a sharp breath, feeling the cold metal of my own gun in my back pocket. This sure as hell wasn't how the morning was supposed to go.

  “What are you doing?” Rizz shouts. “Put that away.”

  Sugar steps forward, a small silver gun in her hand. I had no idea she carried heat. Then my heart pounds with love and a deep desire to protect her

  at all costs. My girl has had to fend for herself for so damn long. It’s wrong for her to fight for me now.

  This is my battle and I will do the dirty work.

  I pull out my gun, not afraid to shoot. These fuckers want to mess with my girl, they gotta get through me.

  8

  Sugar

  Smith moves in front of me, and suddenly the world seems to spin. All five of us stand here with guns raised, and the idea of losing Smith is too awful to bear.

  In my other hand is Smith’s phone. I hold it up. “I will call 911. Don’t you dare tempt me.”

  “This how it’s gonna be, Sis?” Rizz asks. “You think you turning me in on Christmas is the way to fix our problems?”

  “It’s better than making me a prisoner to some MC lord,” I say, my words tight, but my voice clear. No more cowering to my bully of a brother. This is my life and I’m not going to lose it.

  Just then a cougar darts from the woods, catching Rizz, PJ, and Rimmed off guard. I shriek, as Smith points and shoots, the cougar hissing as a bullet grazes it’s back. Three more come from the tree line, as if waiting to pounce.

  Rimmed shoots at the cat, but misses, hitting PJ instead. Smith pushes me behind his hulking frame. “I can’t lose you, Sugar. I love you too damn much.”

  The cats hiss wildly, teeth bared, my heart pounding. “You love me?” I ask as he raises an arm of protection over me.

  “So damn bad. Now go inside and call the cops.”

  I dart in the door, calling 911 as I watch through the window. Rizz blasts his gun at another pair of cats, misses, as he slips on the icy snow. Just as a cat is about to jump on him, Smith shoots the animal, kicking Rizz’s gun away in the process.

  Now, all three of them are disarmed, and two of them are bleeding out. My brother may have broken a bone because he is clutching his leg and moaning loudly. I tell the operator that there’s been an emergency and Smith’s bullets penetrate the cougars, leaving all four of them dead in their tracks.

  Smith grabs a rope from the porch and begins to hog tie my brother and his besties, as I pull on a winter parka and slip my feet in oversized boots. Outside, teeth chattering, I wipe the tears away.

  “You were going to kill him?” I shout at my brother. “You are a monster. I should have run a long time ago.”

  Rizz’s leg certainly is broken, and my stomach rolls as I see the bone poking through his skin, blood seeping on the pure white snow of Christmas morning.

  Before he can lash out at me, an ambulance roars up the driveway, a fire engine and police vehicles following close behind.

  Smith wraps an arm around me, and I cry against his chest as an officer questions us.

  I try to explain, but it’s hard for me to focus. Not because my brother is finally going t
o be permanently out of my life, but because Smith’s words are still ringing in my ears. I love you.

  “You’re okay, Sugar,” Smith says, his warm breath on my cheek. “I got you.”

  “I was so close to losing you… I couldn’t bear it…” Hot tears fall down my face. “I love you too, Smith. Which is crazy but--”

  “The perfect gift at Christmas,” he finishes, kissing me tenderly, the way my broken heart needs. His kisses seem to put me back together.

  “Ma’am, we need to ask you some more questions,” the officer says. Smith leads us inside and I sit down, as Smith moves to the kitchen.

  “What do you need to know?” I ask. There are two officers sitting with me. Outside, my brother, PJ, and Rimmed are being carried into an ambulance on stretchers. Tears burn my eyes. But not at seeing them laid out like that but at the reality that for so long I forfeited my life to those men. Shame runs through me. But also, gratitude.

  “We had a call early this morning from a motel owner about three women who were there in bad shape, who needed a women’s shelter.”

  “Let me guess. Trudy, Jocelyn, and Sarai?”

  The officer nods as Smith walks in with a tray of hot cocoa. Each mug has a candy cane. My heart overflows with love for this man. This man who is a walking Christmas gift. A living breathing present.

  He loves me. And I love him.

  Tears run down my face.

  “Are they going to be okay?” I ask the officers.

  They nod. “They will be now. Turns out your brother had plans to sell all four of you. They got wind of it this morning, which is why they tried to run away. He got physical, which is why we were involved. No one seemed to know where you were or where they went.”

  “I’m sorry it went down like this,” I say, reaching for Smith’s hand. But I’m grateful that they were caught. That we’re all free.”

  “You certainly are, ma’am,” the officer says, taking a drink of the hot cocoa. “Now, let me finish this so we can all get back to our Christmas morning. Sound okay?”