A Very Dirty Christmas

by Sabrina Paige

  "Cookies," Rose says, handing a plate to Kate. "Go sit."

  "I can stand, Rose," Kate says. "I'm pregnant, not bed-ridden."

  "Don't sass me, Katherine Harrison," the housekeeper says, her back to us already. "Your father is in the office with Ella. I'll go get them."

  "What?" I ask. "Ella is here?"

  Kate wrinkles her brow. "I thought she wasn't coming until later this week."

  "You know Ella," I whisper. "She's a free spirit."

  "I can feel my ears burning," Ella says, striding into the living room, her long sweater rippling behind her like a cape. "What were you saying about me?"

  I hug her, before she moves me aside, kissing Kate on the cheek. "How are you, darling? What do you need? Are you feeling okay? How's the sonogram looking?" Ella looks at me. "Why aren't you massaging Kate's feet? The mother of my grandchild should be pampered."

  "Yeah, Caulter," Kate says, smirking. "Pampered."

  "I pamper her," I say. "I pampered her this afternoon, even."

  I get a perverse sense of satisfaction when a blush rises to Kate's cheeks.

  "The two of you," Ella says, shaking her head.

  "Hi, dad," Kate says, changing the subject quickly away from our sex life.

  The Senator hugs her. "How is everything?" he asks. "What do you need? How are you feeling?"

  Kate laughs. "Seriously, you guys," she says. "I'm fine. Everything is absolutely fine."

  "How far along are you now?" Ella asks.

  "Thirty four weeks."

  Ella shakes her head. "You have to keep your stress level down," she says. "Planning a wedding so close to the due date is going to send your stress level through the roof."

  "Ella," I warn, and Kate puts her hand on my arm.

  "I'm just trying to help!" Ella protests. "I was going to suggest my wedding planner. She's fantastic, and I can pull her on short notice, I'm sure. With the publicity from my television show right now, any planner would jump at the change to do your wedding. My planner has done…let's see…about five weddings for me."

  "And a lot more engagement parties," I can't help but add.

  Kate slaps me on the arm, but Ella just laughs. "And…seven engagement parties," she says. "That's not terrible. Is it terrible?"

  The Senator clears his throat. "Ours was one of the weddings," he says, his face impassive.

  Ella turns and puts her hand gently on his arm, beaming at him, and his expression softens when he looks at her. "That was my favorite wedding of them all."

  Kate looks at me, mouthing "what the fuck?"

  I think the last time Ella and the Senator were together, Ella was throwing a vase at his head. She's always been chilly when I've mentioned the Senator, and now suddenly they're cozy?

  Senator Harrison puts his hand over hers. "It wasn't so bad," he says. "Other than…"

  "Our scandal?" I ask.

  My voice interrupts whatever the hell that little moment was between them, and Ella moves her hand like she was just shocked by electricity. "Oh, that's old news," she says. "No one's even interested in that anymore. Now, you go unpack, Caulter. Kate, I want to hear all about the wedding plans."

  The Senator raises his eyebrows at me. "This seems like our cue to leave, Caulter," he says. "I have a couple of nice cigars and a bottle of Scotch in the office."

  What the hell? The Senator has been cordial with me the past year or so, but we're definitely not best friends. I've never smoked cigars or drunk scotch in his office. We don't hang out. All the friendliness radiating from the Senator and Ella is weirding me the fuck out.

  "Scotch and cigars sound perfect," I say, glancing at Kate. She winks at me from the sofa and gives me a little "go away" gesture with her hands, as Ella begins to pepper her with questions, demanding Kate model her wedding dress.

  I get out of there as quickly as possible, before I'm sucked into hours of conversation about floral arrangements or seating.

  ***

  "Did you have fun with my father?" Kate asks, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She's freshly scrubbed, her cheeks flushed pink, damp brown hair piled on the top of her head. She's wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and a thin tank top made of material so thin it barely covers her breasts, her nipples on full display under the fabric. It's dressed down and comfortable, and...sexy as hell.

  I walk up behind her and pull her against my hardness. "He's not my favorite person in the world, but yes, it was fine."

  She turns her head slightly, and I press my lips against her neck, breathing in deeply her scent. She squirms when I kiss her neck, goose bumps dotting her arms almost immediately to my touch. "Talking about my father turns you on?" she asks.

  "Seeing you in that little tank top turns me on," I say. "How was Ella? Did she behave herself?"

  Kate sighs. "She wants her wedding planner to come in and help," she says. "I mean the wedding planner would be kind of nice. Everything is really all planned, but the last minute stuff adds up. She says it would ease my stress."

  "Are you stressed?" I ask, my hands on her belly, meandering up to her chest.

  She moans when I touch her breasts. "They're so sore now," she says.

  "You know, a massage is great for stress relief," I say, cupping her breasts in my hands. They're heavier, so much more swollen than during the first part of the pregnancy, and completely arousing.

  "By massage, you mean 'sex,' right?" she says, laughing. But her voice hitches at the end.

  "I mean a full-body rubdown," I tell her. "I promise to spend extra time on your breasts."

  Kate laughs. "You know I might fall asleep if you do that."

  During the last trimester, Kate has been so tired she's practically narcoleptic. I swear the woman can nod off standing up now. She fell asleep during our meeting with the minister officiating the wedding – snored too, right in his office.

  "I'm definitely aware of that," I say. "Strip. I require nudity for my massages. I promise, no funny business. I won't even try to hump your leg."

  Kate laughs, but she's naked and lying on the bed before I've even taken off my shirt. I make good on my word, too, rubbing her back as she lies naked on her side, her leg slung over her giant pregnancy pillow. It's big enough to be a third person in bed, so we call him Bob. Bob the pillow.

  I think she might be more fond of him than me.

  "What Rose said earlier, about the baby being low," I say. "You don't think the baby will come early, do you?"

  "Huh-uh," she murmurs, moaning when I rub her neck. "We're totally okay. Rose is superstitious."

  "I'm going to call the obstetrician just to check," I say.

  "He already cleared us," she says softly, as I pull her up to a sitting position, and then back against me, my legs wrapped around her. She lies back on my chest, and the moans she lets out when I bring my hands to her breasts is practically painful.

  "Am I hurting you?" I ask.

  "No," she says. "Oh God, don't stop."

  My cock immediately springs to life, hard against the small of her back. "Does that feel good?" I ask, cupping her breasts in my hands, squeezing and massaging them as gently as I can.

  "It feels amazing," she says, her head against my chest. She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, then speaks out of the blue. "Are you nervous?"

  "Of course not," I tell her. "I have no doubts about the wedding or you. We talked about this earlier."

  "That's not what I mean," she says. "Are you nervous about being a father?"

  Did I just internally panic when Rosa hinted that the baby might come early? Yes

  "No," I start. "Okay, a little. I've never been around babies. What if we can't change his diaper? Or we drop him?"

  Kate laughs, the sound melodic and certain. She's suddenly the epitome of calm, a hundred and eighty degree turn from earlier when we were driving. "We'll figure it out," she says, her breath slow and regular, her chest rising and falling under my hands. "Wait. Do you think it's a boy?"

&n
bsp; "I don't know," I tell her, my fingertips lightly brushing over her nipples, already hard.

  Kate groans. "I think you'd better stop doing that," she whispers.

  "Oh yeah," I say, feeling like an idiot. "Stimulates labor. Shit."

  Kate laughs. "I meant because you're making me wet," she says. "They're so sensitive."

  "Oh. Well in that case…" I give her breasts another squeeze, careful to keep my fingers away from her nipples.

  Just in case. New father anxiety and all.

  Then I slip my fingers between her legs. "You are very wet."

  "From all that touching," Kate says. She turns her head to look at me out of the corner of her eye, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. It's the same gesture she used to make when I first met her. She wore that uniform, the same Brighton Academy uniform everyone else wore, but she didn't look like everyone else. Somehow that uniform was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen when she was wearing it.

  I spent many nights thinking about Kate and that uniform.

  I sit up, kissing the side of her neck, listening to her breath get shorter as she is more turned on. When I pull her down onto my lap, she glides easily on the length of my bare cock, making a satisfied sound once I'm inside. I pull her against my, my hands on her breasts, and let her rock gently on me. She likes it slow at first, and then harder, but I remind myself to be careful with her.

  "Caulter," she whispers.

  "God, you feel fucking fantastic," I say into her ear, my voice low. I pull her tighter against me, my lips trailing down the top of her shoulder, my teeth dragging across her skin the way she likes.

  "You realize…" Her voice drifts off, replaced by a soft moan when she rocks onto me deeply.

  "Yes…"

  "We're in my old room," she whispers.

  "I know." That is something I definitely noticed. Even now, the thought makes my cock jump, as memories of that summer flooding my head.

  "I felt that," Kate whispers, riding me faster now, her back arched and her hips pressing down. The bed makes a little squeaking sound and she pauses. Her not moving is excruciating. "The bed is squeaking, Caulter. Did it squeak on us that summer?"

  "I can't remember," I say. "It's a miracle we weren't caught if it was making this much noise back then."

  "Are you thinking about that summer?" she asks. She rides me faster, as if she's remembering one of the times we very nearly got caught in this house.

  "I'm thinking about how wet you are right now," I say, slapping the fleshy part of her ass lightly as she brings herself down on me.

  "Liar," she says, tightening her pussy muscles around me on purpose. I reach around her and squeeze her breasts.

  Turnabout is fair play.

  Her breath becomes shallower, and she presses herself hard against me, the tip of my cock against her inside. Then she grinds slowly against me.

  "What memory are you thinking of?" I whisper, my lips close to her ear. "What was your favorite?"

  She moans softly. "The hallway," she whispers.

  The hallway.

  I push against her, my momentum matching hers. The hallway was dirty. It was filthy. "Tell me," I say, forcing myself to not picture the morning of the Senator's photo opportunity pancake breakfast. Or the way I pressed Kate's hands above her head, holding her palms against the door frame as I flicked open the button of her pants. "What did I do in the hallway, again?"

  She whimpers as she rides me faster now, the bed squeaking louder but we both pretending we don't hear it. "You slid your fingers down my panties," she whispers softly, "While our parents were right downstairs. Anyone could have looked upstairs and seen us."

  "Is that what you like, Kate?" I ask, even though I already know it's true. It's not the being-seen part that turns her on; it's the fear of getting caught. She likes the thrill of doing something naughty and the potential of being discovered.

  "Yes," she moans. Her pussy is so swollen around me, tightening even more as she gets closer, that I have to concentrate on not coming inside her right this very second.

  "Tell me, Princess," I say. "Did you like my fingers inside you, bringing you to the edge of orgasm even though you despised me?"

  "Oh God, yes," she says, her voice louder. She clasps her hand over her mouth. "I hated you. You were so arrogant, so cocky, reaching your hands into my panties like I wanted you."

  "I heard you call out my name that summer," I say, my movements faster. Kate rides me with abandon, moving up and down on my cock, giving me a perfect view of her gorgeous round ass. I slap her ass cheek again, then spread them to push a fingertip against that perfect pink puckered asshole. "You masturbated while you thought about me."

  "You fingered me," she says, her words punctuated by short breaths. I think about the expression on her face back then as I rolled my finger over her clit, about the way she couldn't help but let out a moan when I slid my finger inside her.

  "I'd never felt anything better," I say.

  "Oh, fuck, Caulter," she moans, her muscles tightening harder around me. "I'm going to come."

  "And then I licked my fingers," I tell her. "Because I wanted to taste you."

  She comes. She clasps her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound, and I let go, my orgasm so strong it's nearly blinding as she continues to ride me until she's satisfied.

  And then we come crashing down.

  Literally.

  The fucking bed breaks. The footboard actually falls off the end of the bed, and the bed pitches forward, dropping to the floor with a jolt.

  "Shit," I say, pulling Kate against me. "Are you okay? That didn't hurt you, did it?"

  "Yes," she says, and for a second I think she's crying but she's not.

  She's laughing. She's laughing hysterically, while I'm still inside her, her movements sending vibrations through me. "Shit, Caulter, we broke the bed," she says, nearly a shriek. "Oh my God, why do we break things in this house?"

  Then I hear footsteps rushing toward the door, and thank God I have the presence of mind to grab the blanket covering the bed and yank it up to our necks. Because the very next second, the door flings open and the three of them – Ella, Senator Harrison, and Rose – rush inside.

  Kate is nearly hysterical, brushing away tears.

  And I'm still inside her, even if the sheets cover us. I'm still inside her as the three of them look at us in horror.

  "Oh my God," Ella says. "I'd say get a room but you kids obviously already have."

  Rose puts her hand over her chest. "We thought you had an accident. Or something. Obviously something." She shakes her head, turning and darting quickly down the hallway.

  Senator Harrison averts his eyes, his hand near his face, mumbling something about locking the door and getting furniture that can withstand abuse. The word abuse sends Kate into another peal of laughter, while the Senator and Ella make swift exits.

  "Are you sure you're okay?" I ask.

  "We broke the fucking bed," she says. "The ladder in the library that summer, and now the bed."

  "See? You were worried things would change, Princess," I say. "Nothing's changed at all."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  KATE

  The past few days have been a whirlwind of wedding-related activity. I don't know why I decided to do all of this myself while pregnant. I didn't even hire a wedding planner, insisting I wanted to take care of all of the details.

  I think I might have been delusional. Pregnancy brain is totally a thing.

  "I can't believe you've been doing this legwork yourself, Kate," Ella says as she slips her arm around my shoulder. "I can't believe my son has been letting you do all of this work."

  I'm sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, picking at the sides of a cinnamon roll, freshly baked from scratch, Rose's specialty. Rose stands with her back turned to us, stirring something in a pot that smells delicious, and my stomach growls. I pop another bite in my mouth.

  "I tried to help her," Caulter insists. "Tell her
she can't control everything."

  "What?" I squeak and glare at him. "I'm not trying to control everything. Well, some things. I was doing fine with it all by myself. It's only two hundred guests. We're keeping it small, low key."

  Ella shakes her head. "Let me fly in my wedding planner."

  "Your wedding planner isn't going to just jump on a plane out here," I say.

  "We'll see about that," Ella says, texting on her phone.

  But my resolve is weakening. I'm definitely tired. "The tent rental company just called to let me know there had been a mistake," I admit, exhaling heavily. "One of their employees made a scheduling error and now we have no tent and no heaters. So everyone who's coming to attend a wedding on Christmas Eve day, when they'd probably rather be out shopping or doing their own holiday traditions, are out in the cold. Literally."

  All of the words come rushing out, and when I'm finished I take a deep breath of air. Ella and Caulter are staring at me. "So maybe some help would be nice," I say.

  Ella smiles and holds up her phone. "Rebecca will be here tomorrow."

  "Just like that?" I ask, in disbelief. Scheduling an appointment to taste cakes took more advance notice than that just did.

  "Now," Ella says. "That's settled. Rebecca is fabulous at pulling things together at the last minute. Don't worry about the tent. I'll text her and let her know what happened. She'll work her magic; trust me. Oh, and another thing -- I've moved my things into one of the bedrooms upstairs. You two should have the guesthouse."

  I feel heat rise to my cheeks and wonder if they're as red as I think they are. "Are we being banished?"

  Caulter snorts.

  Ella sips her whatever-the-hell green drink she's drinking, her eyes twinkling. "Not banished," she says. "There's simply more space out there for the two of you. It's more private."

  Rose's back is still turned to us, and she's notably quiet. She's stirred that pot of soup so many times I think it might actually be pureed by now.

  I also think I might actually dissolve into the floor. To have my father and Ella and Rose all catch Caulter and I after we broke my childhood bed?