“Ben,” I moan, as my head swirls and every color of the rainbow spins like cotton candy and sugar cream cookie sprinkles. I give into the long, slow swish of his tongue, pulling pleasure from me like melting taffy, ebbing and floating with every delicious burst of his sensuous licking.
He knows me so well. His touch is both strong and tender as he slicks his finger into my wet, pulsating canal, and strokes me steadily, building that ache of almost losing him into the passion of reigniting my wholehearted love.
I lose myself, all sense of time and space as a roaring rushing river sweeps me from my moorings and flings me high into the night sky above the twinkly, sparkling bridge.
“So sweet, so very sweet,” Ben mumbles as he covers my mouth with his lips, still tasting of my arousal, the slick, smooth feel that draws quivers down my spine.
Just like that, I want him, now. Inside. I drag my hands down his muscular abdomen and press it against the huge, raging erection straining at his jeans.
“Mine, mine,” I mutter as I make quick work of his zipper.
He smiles at me, stroking my hair over my forehead. “I’m not going to argue with that, my sexy elf. You’re mine, too.”
“I know.” I stretch my entire body, full of tingling nerves and shimmering desire. “Bring it on, Mr. Santa. I’ll be your pet every Christmas.”
He kneels and rips off his shirt. Now I can appreciate cowboy shirts having snaps and not buttons, as I bet every cowgirl can attest.
A moment later, he’s naked and glorious, as he lowers himself over me, letting me stroke him balls to tip. He’s hot and so very hard, pressing against me but waiting.
“I want you bare inside me. I did a quick computation, and I think I’m safe.”
“You’ll always be safe with me.” His eyes are half-closed, as he seals my lips with a loving kiss and slides into me.
We both moan together at the exquisiteness, skin to skin, nothing in between, his hardness inside my soft center, completing me, loving me, and maybe creating a life only the two of us can share.
I grasp his sexy hard ass and rock him, as he touches me in a way no one has ever done before. The fullness of him, stroking me like a slow, deep fire.
“I love you, Brittney, so much.” The smile on his face is so pure, so loving, and innocent with a tinge of surprise, no doubt at how good and natural all of it feels.
I’m too far gone in the pleasurable sensations to speak as I writhe and coil beneath him, pushing his pace faster and harder. Guttural cries punch from my throat, and unbelievable sensations mount. I clench him hard, my fingertips digging into his flesh, and then he’s losing control, grunting and pounding into me with a raw hot fury.
His thrusts are rough and eager, no longer holding back. But his eyes don’t leave mine, and I watch him, mesmerized as sweat pops onto his face and his pupils dilate. His eyelids droop as he gets closer to the edge, and he huffs, “Brittney, now.”
A thunderclap explodes from the friction between us, and my insides clench and pulse. A climax larger and more powerful than the last one rocks both of us, socking all the breath from me and curling me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“I love you, Ben, love you, love you, love you,” my mouth mutters as my walls contract around him, squeezing and kissing him through his blessed release.
I’ll never forget the expression on his face if I live to be a hundred. It’s so sweet, so pure, so satisfied, and oh, so loved, as he lies down next to me and closes his eyes. Pride swells through me. I’m the only one who put that heartfelt look of joy on his face.
I’m the one for Ben Powers.
Chapter Forty-Four
The day before Christmas
~ Ben ~
The Christmas train, pulled by a real steam engine and decorated to the hilt with wreathes, holly, and yes, mistletoe under every archway, chugged through the redwood forest.
Ben, Brittney, and the Powers family took up half a railcar as they traveled past six- to eight-hundred year old trees towering like eternal sentinels in the hills of Northern California.
Ben was dressed as Santa, now that Grandpa had officially retired from both playing Santa and running the Powers Pet Store, which had been in danger of shutting down before Nash stepped in with a bailout.
A week ago, Ben and Nash had gone over the accounts when the sole remaining employee, a young single mother named Lindsay, had complained about not being paid.
Nash looked over the location and decided it was in an area ripe for revitalization. As for the employee, Nash not only paid her, but got himself a date for the evening. Ben had warned him not to go out with a single mom, that he’d be raising the woman’s expectations only to dash them to the ground when he rolled away, but Nash had accused him of being old fashioned.
“Women know the score these days.” He’d smirked as he placed his cowboy hat on his head to pick her up for the date. “She needs a free meal, and she’s bringing the kid, too.”
Shock hadn’t even begun to describe Ben’s surprise at how his cad of a brother had hidden a kind heart under his bluster—just like all of the Powers men.
The train sounded its whistle as it neared the stop to pick up more passengers. Ben put his arm around Brittney to steady her as the train slowed. She was dressed in her favorite Cowgirl Elf costume, which she decided was the right blend of sexy and sweet. He couldn’t get over how lucky he was to be the man to put that precious smile on her face and the jaunt in her now confident step. Her hips swayed just enough to be flirty, and she was without a doubt, the prettiest and smartest elf there ever was.
Susanna milled around the railcar with a selfie stick on which she’d attached a sprig of mistletoe, bugging everyone to either kiss each other, or kiss her, depending on the angle.
She wasn’t having much luck until a redheaded cousin of Brittney’s jumped aboard from the platform. The man had the practiced look of a player, and Ben’s hackles rose as he watched his sister swing the stick toward her destruction.
“Relax,” Brittney said. “Your sister’s old enough to take care of herself.”
“Isn’t that your cousin, the actor?”
“Yep. Declan Reed, my famous cousin. He played Romeo a few years back and just got through with a role as the Huntsman in Little Red Riding Hood.”
“I don’t like the way he’s looking at my sister,” Ben grumbled.
“Your older sister,” Brittney said. “I’ll say your sister likes the way he’s checking her out.”
Sure enough, Susanna lifted the selfie stick above Declan’s devilishly charming face, and the cad roped her in for a long and languishing kiss.
“Don’t look now,” Brittney said. “But look who’s holding hands with Nash. They’re coming this way.”
“You’re trying to goad me now,” Ben mumbled under his Santa’s beard, a convenient way not to let people see him speak. Sure enough, Nash sauntered toward them holding hands with both Lindsay and her little girl, Abbie, who looked to be around six years old.
The little girl was clearly in love with Nash, and if Ben had to guess, so was the mother, although she kept her adoration under wraps, or tried to.
“Hey, Santa Brother,” Nash said as he approached the painted Santa’s throne bolted onto the railcar. “Abbie wants to sit on your lap and tell you her secrets.”
“No see-cwets, Uncle Nash,” the little girl lisped. “I already told Mama what I want for Chwistmas.”
“But Mama’s not Santa,” Nash said, lifting the girl onto Ben’s lap.
Ben ignored Brittney’s eye roll and settled into his role of being jolly. “So, Abbie, tell Santa your secrets.”
“No see-cwets,” Abbie whispered loudly into his ear. “I wanna guitar, but Mama has no money. No one wants to buy bunnies and birds from her.”
“Let me see what Santa can do for you,” Ben said, hooking a glance at his brother. He couldn’t picture Nash settling down with this little family, no matter how attracted he was to Li
ndsay. Nash just wasn’t the family type.
But then, the same could have been said about him before he met Brittney. Not that she was in the family way, or at least she hadn’t mentioned anything since their night of love after the benefit concert.
Ben’s heart twinged between hope and worry, but he put his attention back on Abbie and grinned for the picture when Lindsay waved her phone.
After letting both Abbie and Lindsay kiss him, Ben held Brittney on his lap until the train chugged to its destination near the coast.
They were met at the station by a fleet of limos Nash had arranged. The day before, Ben and Nash had moved most of Grandpa’s clothes and personal things from the farmhouse. He’d agreed to go to the assisted living facility, but wanted to spend Christmas and New Year’s with family. It turned out his lady love was easier to persuade. Once Nash found out she was Lindsay’s grandmother, it was fast work to convince her to speak to Grandpa about it. Funny how he agreed with everything she said, even admitting the big white bird might be too noisy for him.
Brittney agreed to take the cockatoo, and her parents adopted Treat who would visit Grandpa whenever they visited her grandparents at the Happy Bear Retirement Center.
Ben helped Grandpa into the first limo. The older man had steadily regained his strength, but was on a heart monitor and tired easily. He was also growing back the beard they’d shaved off when he was stuck on the ventilator in the hospital.
“Did you enjoy the Christmas train?” Ben asked.
“First time I wasn’t playing Santa,” Grandpa said. “I’d enjoy it better if I got some mistletoe action.”
“Don’t worry, where we’re going is infested by mistletoe,” he said, winking.
“Harrumph. I’m not quite ready to go to Happy Bear yet.” Grandpa shook his jowls and settled into the seat. He didn’t say much until the limo took a turn onto a gravel drive.
“Wait, Ben, where are we going?” Grandpa pressed his face against the tinted windows. “I thought Bob and Cece Reed rented the cottage.”
Brittney’s grandparents had rented the cottage, and in fact, were busy inside with Brittney’s family preparing a special Christmas Eve dinner of Jon-balaya and Sally-Beary Steak with Colleen Greens, Nash Browns, and Britt-oche Bread.
“Do you like all the lights we put up?” Ben leaned over as the limo came to a stop.
“The flamingos,” Grandpa exclaimed. “I plumb forgot about them.”
From the back of the limo, Ben’s father laughed. “You don’t remember how mad you were when I hid the reindeer in the neighbor’s yard?”
Grandpa only shook his head. “If only your grandmother could be here to see this.”
“I’ve a feeling she’s here every year,” Ben said, helping his grandfather from the limo.
He jerked away, grumbling, “Stop treating me like a heart patient. I’m all better now. Besides, I want to enjoy the decorations you put up.”
“Let me hit the switch then,” Ben said, jogging to the electric panel. He turned on the lights and motion, and the entire yard came alive.
One by one, the limos stopped, and Ben’s entire family joined them in the yard. They followed Grandpa as he marveled at the wooden train whose wheels still turned. Bright lights lit the gingerbread people, some wearing cowboy hats, and others with long hair, blond, red, and dark.
Ben watched, in amazement as Grandpa walked alongside the train naming the gingerbread people. “Braden, Damon, Susanna, Nash, Ben, Macy, and Riley, Wes and Terri,” Grandpa said, clearing his throat.
Terri was Ben’s mother’s name, but he was surprised Grandpa had named Gingerbread people after his stepsisters. Of course, Jolene was absent.
Grandpa stroked the tangled blond yarn on the Terri Gingerbread Woman and kissed it. “I didn’t make one for Colleen. She’s the angel on the lawn.”
“She definitely is,” Ben’s father agreed with his wife, Jolene, at his side.
The Colleen angel stood on a soapbox with her hands in prayer. Somehow seeing her here surrounded by family, Ben felt more at peace. She would always exist whenever the people who loved her remembered her.
Ben’s sisters marveled at the animatronics and of course, compared themselves to their Gingerbread people, taking selfies. Meanwhile, Nash placed Abbie on one of the wooden reindeer while Lindsay took a picture of them.
Jolene held hands with Wes and pointed at the flamingos towing the lighted sleigh, holding Santa and Mrs. Claus. Behind the sleigh, snowman serenaded the entourage. The only thing missing was the North Pole sign. Where had that gone? Ben was sure he’d placed it next to the snowmen.
“I’m so happy your family’s here,” Brittney whispered in Ben’s ear.
“Me, too. It all starts and ends with you.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “Let’s take Grandpa in for the surprise your grandparents planned for him.”
After everyone had finished admiring the yard decorations, Ben helped his grandfather walk up the leaf-strewn trail to the front porch. “Ready for some mistletoe?”
Grandpa took a deep breath of the piney scent mixed with salt spray and closed his eyes. “I reckon it’s time for me to make peace with her.”
“With Grandma?” Ben asked. “I don’t get it.”
“She was always getting between me and your dad, trying to bring us together, but she didn’t understand men—not when our stubborn pride was involved.”
“What changed?”
“Almost dying has a way of changing a man’s heart.” Grandpa pointed at the top of the porch. “Ah, the first sprig of mistletoe.”
Tiptoeing, he puckered up and kissed the air. “That’s for you, Sally. Thanks for watching over this place until I was ready to come back.”
Ben wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he extracted the key from the lock box. “Grandpa, open her up.”
Grandpa took the key and turned toward his family. “Thank you, every one of you, for blessing me this Christmas.”
He opened the door and out popped Treat and Big Blizzard.
“Waarrooaah!” howled the basset hound.
“Welcome home,” said the cockatoo.
“Merry Christmas,” shouted Ben and Brittney’s families. “Santa’s come home to stay.”
A red and white barber pole stood just inside the doorway, next to a coat rack with a sign hanging off it proclaiming it to be the “North Power Pole.”
Epilogue
The evening of the pro football draft
~ Brittney ~
Ben and I sit with his family in the crowded auditorium awaiting the announcement of the pro football draft picks. The nervous energy in the building buzzes as players and their families cheer when each pick is selected. The others bite their nails, worrying and waiting for their big moment.
I hold onto Ben, rubbing his big broad back as player after player is picked and announced. We’re still in the first round, and usually those picks are reserved for quarterbacks, running backs, and wide receivers.
No one speaks, knowing how anxious Ben is. All the talking and horse-trading between the teams have already been done behind the scenes in the war room, and all that remains is the announcement.
“I’ve a good feel about this,” Ben finally says as they announce the tenth pick. “The worst teams get to pick first, so it’s good I’m not picked yet.”
“I bet you’re coming up soon.” I hold onto him tight. “You’ve only gotten bigger and better.”
Ben has bulked up to two hundred-sixty pounds, but hasn’t lost his agility or speed. He’s a powerhouse, jumps forty-two inches, bench presses four-hundred and quick too, clocking in the forty-yard dash at around four and a half seconds. I know. I religiously followed his progress at the combine this year while starting another company with Lacy and Brandon.
“The twelfth pick of the draft,” the commissioner announces. “The Oakland Brigands select Bennett Powers, middle linebacker UC Sacramento Goldrushers.”
“Woohoo!” I leap to my fee
t as Ben rises from his seat.
He plasters a kiss on me and I hug him briefly before letting his family crowd around. He hugs his father, and then his stepmother, kisses each of his sisters, and receives a slap on the back from Nash.
Looping his arm around Grandpa, he poses with him for the cameras.
“I love you, Grandpa,” he says. “For always believing in me.”
“You go, Benny Boy,” Grandpa slaps his back. “Go, go, go.”
Ben walks toward the stage, running a gauntlet of cameras. Someone hands him a Brigand’s cap. It’s amazing how they have someone around with all the caps. I wonder how they can get that jersey onstage so quickly.
Ben pulls the cap onto his head and walks with the spotlight trained on him to the commissioner. I scream my head off as Ben gives the commissioner a huge bear hug, picking him off his feet to the hoots and hollers of the crowd. They pose together with the extra-large black Oakland jersey with the name “Powers” and a big number one emblazoned on it to signify first round pick.
Ben totally deserves it. He was college football’s best pass rusher and the fear of every quarterback—nearly unstoppable. His dedication and determination have paid off.
Later that evening, at the celebration dinner, Ben passes the jersey around and everyone wears it to take their picture. I’m the last one, and when Ben pulls it over my shoulder he takes out the black instamatic camera with the ice-cube flash bulb.
“Where’d you find that antique?” Grandpa calls out. “I lost it a long time ago.”
“Last roll of film,” Ben says, handing him the camera. Of course, his sisters are using their cell phone cameras, so I’ll be sure to ask them to text me a copy.
I smile for the old camera as Ben lays a kiss on my cheek.
Flash! It blinds my eyes and when I move to take off the jersey, he shakes his head and whispers, “I want you and that little Powers you got growing in there to wear it the rest of the night.”
Yep. I’m pregnant and proud of it. Twenty-one weeks along.
Lacy had her baby in January, a boy she named Jaxon, and well, Ben and I are hoping for a girl to name Colleen. I accepted the buyout for ScrapCloud from Dave and Jen, a pretty hefty sum, and plowed it into our new startup—a dating app based on shopping habits and purchase behavior. I also bought Grandpa’s farmhouse and work from there. My parents gave Treat back to Ben, and of course, Big Blizzard, the umbrella cockatoo is mine. Too bad, I couldn’t bring him to the auditorium for the draft selection announcement. He sure would have caused a ruckus.
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