THAT MAN Trilogy

by L'Amour, Nelle

  “I love you, tiger,” I rasped against her sweet glistening skin. How easy these once unspoken words now came to me. I loved her so fucking much.

  She nuzzled my neck before taking my mouth in hers. “Blake, you’re a very naughty boy.”

  Indeed I was. Blake Burns was a very naughty boy. But Santa had looked the other way and given me just what I wanted for Christmas.

  Chapter 4

  Jennifer

  The egg was a wonder toy. Blake showed me every which way to use it—from stimulating his cock to putting it in my butt while he fucked me. The sensation of having it in my butt was beyond words. I experienced an out of this world orgasm that made me see stars. And there were more levels of stimulation. One called escalation—vibrations that started at a slow speed, then sped up and then stopped abruptly making me desperate for more, and another called surging, a mixture of pulsation and normal vibrating. I swear I don’t know how many times we fucked. And I swear I don’t know how either of us didn’t wake up my parents.

  Blake wanted me to go to sleep with the egg inside me so I would wake up wet and stimulated, ready for him. I told him that wasn’t necessary. Just having him in my bed, naked and raw, was all I needed. But he insisted, and I finally gave in, not having the energy to fight him. We exchanged yet another round of “I love you.” I’d lost count of how many times I’d said those words. And heard them. But I couldn’t get enough. In no time, I fell asleep in his arms, cradled in his warm manly body.

  I was the first to awaken in the morning. My eyes fluttered open as awareness seeped into my brain. I was still spooned in Blake and could feel his heart beating against my back. One sculpted arm curled above my head while the other draped over my tummy. We had fallen asleep in this position, flesh to flesh, his erection pressed tightly against my backside. I twisted my neck to look at him. God, he was beautiful in the morning. Soft breaths, as soothing as a cat’s purr, emanated from his gently parted lips, and a lock of silky hair fell onto his forehead. The fine layer of stubble that circled his jaw made him even sexier than imaginable. Oh God. What had I done to deserve this man? This God. This man who loved me and whom I loved back with my heart and soul. Usually, I woke up on Christmas morning with excitement and anticipation. Today, I woke up totally contented and satisfied. Santa had come and dropped off my best present ever. Blake Burns. Thank you, Santa.

  The familiar sounds of Christmas morning sounded in my ears. Downstairs, I could hear “Deck the Halls” playing on my parents’ stereo system (they still hadn’t upgraded to surround sound). When I was a little girl, I was always the first to wake up and trot downstairs, eager to see what Santa had brought me. As I grew older and learned Santa = Dad, I slept later, needing the extra hours of sleep to supplement my time-sucking hormones. I could have stayed in bed all day with Blake—just like this in his arms—but that wasn’t an option. As sunlight filtered into my room, I remembered something. Before we’d fallen asleep, Blake had told me Santa had another surprise for me—another toy. While nothing could possibly top that fucking (no pun intended) egg, I was suddenly eager to find out what it was.

  I maneuvered myself so I was facing Blake. I kissed his forehead, and his dazzling blue eyes blinked open.

  “Merry Christmas, Blake.” I brushed the wisp of hair off his forehead. My beautiful bedhead!

  He smiled and his eyes twinkled like stars. “Merry Christmas, tiger.” He traced my jaw with his fingertips before smacking his lips against mine. Another all-consuming, tongue-driven kiss ensued. I could easily get used to waking up this way every morning.

  After taking separate showers (we couldn’t risk taking one together with my parents up), we got dressed, both of us in jeans and sweaters. I was also wearing something else at Blake’s insistence—the little vibrating egg in my pussy. At the moment, it wasn’t vibrating. Blake had set the remote to the “off” position.

  “You’d better behave,” I whispered as we headed downstairs.

  “Don’t worry.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” He playfully slapped my ass.

  I worried Blake wouldn’t be true to his word. He was a very naughty boy. My parents had learned over dinner we worked together but had no clue he was more than just a friend or that I worked for him. At a porn channel no less. Though Mom and Dad knew the job with Peanuts, Conquest Broadcasting’s former children’s network, had fallen through, I’d led them to believe I was working for another division of the company. I’d just conveniently failed to mention it was Adult Entertainment.

  When we got downstairs, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” was playing, and my dad was in the living room in his favorite reclining chair, reading the morning paper over a cup of coffee.

  “Good morning, you two sleepyheads,” he said, looking up from his paper and smiling.

  “Good morning,” Blake and I responded in unison.

  “You two sleep well?”

  Blake grinned. “The best bed I’ve ever slept in.”

  I cringed. Why did everything this man say have to be loaded with sexual innuendo? I sure as hell didn’t want my parents to know he’d fucked my brains out right under our roof. Before I could respond, my mother waltzed into the room, holding two mugs of steaming coffee.

  “I could hear you two come downstairs from the kitchen. I’ve brought you some fresh coffee.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, taking the mugs from her. I handed one to Blake.

  Mom: “Blake, I hope you take cream in yours.”

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs. McCoy. The more cream the better.”

  I almost regurgitated my first sip of coffee. Last night, while he was fucking me for the second time, Blake had told me that he was going to cream me as he was about to come. My pussy quivered.

  My father rose from his chair and ambled toward our Christmas tree. “Now that everyone’s up, let’s see what Santa’s brought.”

  The rest of us followed him. As we gathered around the tree, my mother apologized to Blake. “Blake, dear, had we known you’d be here with us, we would have surely gotten you something. I feel terrible.”

  Blake smiled warmly at my mother. “No worries. Being here with you and your husband… and Jennifer… is more than I could possibly ask for.”

  Upon saying my name, he shot me a sexy little wink. It sent tingles down my spine. The sooner we opened presents, the better. He was affecting me again.

  As was tradition in our house, we all sat down around the tree, with our mugs of coffee, and began the ritual. Cross-legged, Blake sat right next to me. So close, I could feel the heat of his body. My heart pitter-pattered, and my pussy felt as lit up as the Christmas tree.

  My parents and I exchanged gifts first. They were thrilled with what I’d gotten them—matching lambswool scarves and each a book—and I was equally delighted with what they’d gotten me—a stunning Coach backpack that matched my briefcase. It was quite an extravagant present given they were now living on my retired father’s pension. I gave them each a big hug.

  Blake and I watched as my parents exchanged gifts next. After all these years of marriage, a deep-rooted, true love still lit up their eyes as they handed each other festively wrapped up boxes. For Mom, a lovely red pullover sweater, and for Dad, a handsome argyle cardigan. Every year, the same glow, the same thank you, the same kiss on the cheek. Knowing my best friend Libby’s parents had gone through an ugly divorce, I felt blessed to have my loving parents.

  There were three remaining large boxes. All from Blake.

  “Those two are for you, Mr. and Mrs. McCoy,” he said, pointing to the two monstrous side by side boxes, identical in size and wrapped in exactly the same hunter green paper. Each was topped off with a humongous red velvet bow.

  “You didn’t have to buy us anything,” said my mother, reaching for the two boxes and handing one to my father. I watched as they opened them and gawked when they uncovered what was inside. Two magnificent Ralph Lauren plaid cashmere blankets. They must have
cost a fortune. My parents could never afford anything like them.

  Blake was beaming. “I hope you like them. My parents have the same ones so I thought they were a good bet.”

  My mother lovingly held the soft cashmere blanket to her cheekbone and then wrapped it around her shoulders. “Oh Blake, dear. They’re so beautiful. You shouldn’t have.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “An outstanding choice, son. Thank you from both of us.” My father, though he didn’t blatantly show it, was equally impressed and delighted with Blake’s extravagant gift.

  Blake gathered the last remaining box in his hands. This box was different in size and shape than my parents’—big and bulky—and it was wrapped in a whimsical, childlike snowman-themed paper. “This is for you, tiger.”

  My stomach muscles twisted. Shit. He called me “tiger” in front of my parents. While my mother, enraptured with her new blanket, was oblivious, my father raised a brow. Maybe, he just thought it was odd.

  “Thank you,” I stammered, taking the box from him. It was not particularly heavy or solid. I had no idea what could be inside. I carefully unwrapped it. A big, red shiny box was now in my lap. Slowly, I lifted off the lid.

  My breath hitched in my throat when I eyed what was inside. With trembling hands, I took it out of the box. Another toy. This time a beautiful, white plush tiger with black stripes, a pink nose, and glass eyes as green as mine. About three feet tall, it was in a seated position, its limbs spread apart as if ready for a hug and then a fuck. Around its neck hung an exquisite pink tourmaline heart on a gold chain. My birthstone! I had told him in Vegas my birthday was in October. He remembered! My own heart hammered as my eyes met Blake’s. I knew this necklace was meant for me to wear. To have his heart close to mine.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice soft and sultry. “It’s a snow tiger. They’re an endangered species. Very special and rare.”

  “I love it!” Tears were verging. I love you.

  So wanting to hug him, to be in his arms, I hugged the cuddly tiger instead. “Thank you,” I said in almost a whisper, pressing my lips against its soft, sweet face. A tear escaped my eye and disappeared into the tiger’s velvety fur.

  My mother’s voice brought me out of my trance-like state. “Honey, do you want to help me make breakfast?”

  I lifted my head, hoping tears were no longer falling. “Sure, Mom.”

  “Wonderful. I’m making eggs.” Eggs? She turned to Blake. “Blake dear, how do you like your eggs?”

  Blake shot me a cocky grin and then responded. “Mrs. McCoy, I’m easy. I like my eggs every which way.”

  My pussy throbbed. Oh, God, egg talk! I suddenly became aware again of the little egg hiding inside me.

  My father stood up. “While my girls make breakfast, I’m going to dig out the driveway.”

  I glanced out the window. Our front yard was covered in snow. At least three feet—significantly more if you counted the drifts against our almost buried picket fence.

  “Let me do it,” insisted Blake.

  My father smiled. “I could use the exercise. But I’d appreciate your help, son.”

  “You’ve got it, Mr. McCoy.”

  My father nodded. “Thank you, and you can call me Harold.”

  As my mother and I retreated to the kitchen, Dad and Blake readied for the manly task that awaited them.

  Chapter 5

  Blake

  While I was in extra­ordinari­ly good shape from working out at the gym and doing the Santa Monica Stairs, I’d never shoveled snow before. At our family house in Aspen that we’d recently sold for a small fortune, we always had plows come by to dig us out. Man, shoveling snow was fucking hard work. I was breathing heavily and working up a sweat despite the nippy temperature. As I struggled to scoop up the dense powder from the packed driveway, I watched in awe as Jen’s father seemed to effortlessly shovel it away.

  “Pace yourself,” he urged. “And use your shoulder muscles as much as possible so you don’t hurt your back.”

  He was definitely in good shape for a man his age, and I tried my damnedest to keep up with him. Like with pumping weights or any sport, my mind was filled with the task at hand. But when I took short little breaks, my mind drifted to Jennifer.

  I’d had the most sensual experience of my life last night. Watching her play with her toy and come over and over again was one thing. But sleeping with her in the raw in my arms was something else. Our naked bodies spooned together, almost one, her heart mine, palmed in my hand. Sharing a blanket, our bodies warming each other. Yes, I had fucked many women, but I’d never slept with one after the act. Only my tiger. The girl I loved.

  I could have spent the whole day with her in bed, fucking and snuggling, but that wasn’t going to happen at her parents’ house. Plus, I woke up excited about giving my girl her other Christmas presents. My heart pounded with anticipation as she unwrapped the box and then exploded with elation when I saw in her eyes how much she loved the plush tiger. I was lucky to have found it at a toyshop in Ketchum and the tourmaline heart in a nearby jewelry store. Buying a woman presents was something new to me too. I never did that; all they got from me was my cock. But when it came to Jennifer McCoy, I couldn’t buy her enough. That’s how much I loved her. I could have easily gone into every store and bought her a boatload of beautiful things, but the reality of that badass blizzard combined with my burning urge to see her stopped me. Buying something for her—especially something perfect—gave me a high like a drug. I’d experienced this very high when I’d purchased the painting. It took my breath away—almost as much as she did. I couldn’t wait to fasten the pendant necklace around her neck. Wherever she was, my heart would always be near hers.

  Little by little, we cleared the snow and could even start to see the pavement. Mr. McCoy gave me another helpful tip—to keep one hand close to the shovel blade for better leverage. I readjusted my hands and discovered he was right again. It was easier this way.

  We worked away in silence for another half hour. Heated up, I peeled off my jacket and wrapped it around my waist.

  The silence was unexpectedly broken by Mr. McCoy.

  “Blake, I googled you this morning.”

  I gulped and felt my face flare. I speared my shovel into a pile of snow and met his intense eyes with mine.

  “So you head up SIN-TV. That’s a porn channel. Right, son?”

  “Yes, sir, it is.” There was no pussyfooting around the truth. He knew.

  “I assume my daughter works for you. In the porn industry?”

  My throat tightened. I swallowed painfully. “Yes, sir. She does. She’s wonderful at her job.” It had quickly become apparent to me that Jen had never told her overprotective parents about her real job. They probably thought she worked in children’s television. For sure, they didn’t know about the Don Springer incident, and I was going to keep it that way.

  “What exactly does she do?” ventured Harold.

  “It’s not what you think. She doesn’t handle the rowdy stuff.”

  His brows shot up. “What does that mean?”

  “She’s a development executive. She’s developing a really classy block based on bestselling books targeted to women.”

  “You mean like that Fifty Shades book?”

  By this time, who hadn’t heard about that book? “Yes, but even better.” I’d actually read a few and was quite impressed by the storylines, character development, and overall writing. And the level of steaminess was off the charts.

  “What I’m thinking of doing is making these productions not only for women but by women. Women writers, producers, and directors.” I hadn’t yet shared this thought with Jennifer, but was positive she would jump all over it.

  After another shovel of snow, Harold nodded his head approvingly. “That’s a good idea. She seems so happy, and she’s told us how much she loves her job though she never told us she was involved with adult entertainment. My wife doesn’t know, but eventually
I’ll tell her.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  Harold and I both shoveled more snow. We were almost finished.

  “One last thing, son.”

  The tone of his voice made me uneasy.

  “I saw you with my daughter last night.”

  My stomach knotted. I put my shovel down. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. You kissed her.”

  Words stayed tangled in my lumpy throat. My face flushed. I couldn’t hide the truth.

  “You’re more than just her boss. She’s in love with you.”

  I sucked in a breath of the cold air and shot out the words. “And, Mr. McCoy, I’m in love with her.”

  To my surprise and relief, he smiled. “Did you have anything to do with her breakup with Bradley?”

  “No, nothing at all.” A lie as white as snow. I wiped some sweat off my brow and inwardly shuddered.

  “Well, to be honest with you, son, I never liked him though I never told my daughter or my wife that. He just rubbed me the wrong way.” He regarded me warmly, his eyes squinting from the glint of the snow and the sun. “I have a good feeling about you, Blake. Take good care of my little girl, Jennie. She’s my one and only.”

  I smiled back at him. “I will, sir.”

  His eyes darkened. “And make sure you don’t hurt her.”

  I nodded. “You have my word.”

  Satisfied with my response, he tossed his shovel. “C’mon, let’s head back inside. I’m as hungry as a bear.”

  Equally famished, I followed suit. Warmth radiated inside me. I’d scored points with Jennifer’s father. When I got back to LA, I was going to have a heart-to-heart with my dad too. Especially since Jen and I worked together, he needed to know.

  Chapter 6

  Jennifer

  I helped my mom make breakfast in our charming knotty-pine kitchen. Despite the fact she was a gourmet cook, she’d never updated it. It still bore memories of my childhood. We were standing a shoulder’s width apart, working away at a Formica counter.