A Bryson Family Christmas: Brothers in Blue, book 4

by St. James, Jeanne

“Bye, Greg,” they both answered at the same time.

  “See you at the parade!” Greg shouted as Ron escorted him away with a firm grip on his shoulder.

  Once they both disappeared into the trees, both Marc and Leah breathed easier.

  “Hurry up and close the blinds so we can get out.” Leah glanced around. “Where’s the cock ring?”

  “I dropped it in the water.” He stood up, the water sluicing off him, and pulled the blinds.

  “Oh, thank goodness! I had this nightmare of Ron seeing it sitting on the edge of the tub.”

  “Me, too. And that would be my luck. Open the drain.” He climbed out of the tub and held out his hand to her to help her out. “I’ll grab the wet vac since we flooded the bathroom.”

  “And while you do that, I’ll make you breakfast. What do you want?” She stepped out of the tub and he held onto her since the tiles were wet.

  “You. Across the kitchen table.”

  She paused in front of him, tapping his cheek. “You’re very ambitious today.”

  He dropped his head until their lips were almost touching. “Trying to make the most out of the time we were given.”

  “I appreciate that, but your kid needs food.”

  He released a dramatic huff. “Fine. We’ll eat first and then if we have time, I’ll take you on the kitchen table.”

  “Or I’ll take you.” She said, giving him a quick kiss and pulling away.

  He grabbed her wrist and stopped her from leaving the bathroom. “Hey.”

  She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “What?”

  “Thank you for putting up with me.”

  She stared at him for the longest time, her face unreadable.

  “And my family,” he quickly added.

  “I only put up with you because you come with them,” she teased. Her face went soft. “But they’re my family, too. I can’t imagine life without them.”

  “I could.”

  She laughed and he watched his beautiful, naked, pregnant wife walk out the door.

  Chapter Three

  Matt & Carly

  Carly turned over and her hand went out.

  Nothing.

  Matt’s side of the bed was empty. Shit.

  She shot up in bed, willing her eyes to focus.

  Had he had a nightmare again and disappeared?

  Her gaze landed on his cell phone on the nightstand. Shit.

  She couldn’t even ping his location. He wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without it. He had agreed to that. This way if he went into a dark headspace, she’d at least know where he was and if he was safe. She’d have some way to track him down. Or have a location to send one of his brothers to find him.

  They had agreed.

  Especially after he’d disappeared when they first lived together. When he had checked himself into a mental health facility for a month without a word.

  He’d been so good about keeping his phone with him. She hoped he wasn’t slipping.

  Not now, not when...

  She glanced at the digital clock. 4:02.

  She’d been up half the night because Levi had been fussy. She listened carefully and didn’t hear a baby crying or a man moving around the house.

  It was too quiet. But then their bedroom door was closed. She never closed it so they could hear Levi in the room directly across the hall.

  She shoved the covers off and slid out of bed. She padded barefoot across the room, out of the bedroom and was surprised to find the nursery’s door closed. Had she closed it automatically in her exhaustion?

  She quietly opened the door and peeked into the dark room only lit by a nightlight. It was bright enough that she could see them perfectly.

  Her husband sitting in the rocking chair, holding Levi against his broad chest, giving the baby a bottle. His head was dipped down and he was talking in a low, soothing voice...

  Telling Levi a story Matt was making up as he went.

  Her heart swelled and she put her hand over her mouth as the first tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She didn’t want to disturb them, but she couldn’t not watch the two bonding.

  Father and son.

  Levi had downy hair, as dark as Matt’s, and right now had blue eyes. Hopefully they would remain blue, just like his birth mother’s. Just like Matt’s.

  She wiped away another tear that ran down her face. She had worried about him, but she had no reason to. He had stepped in to take care of Levi without her asking.

  To Matt, having a baby didn’t come naturally and he had to work at it. But he was willing. He was willing to do whatever he needed to do to give her her dream of having a child.

  And that right there caused another tear to fall.

  His deep, smooth voice tapered off and he continued to stare at Levi for what seemed like minutes, when it was probably seconds. Lifting his head, he spotted Carly standing in the doorway.

  “He was fussy again,” Matt whispered, carefully rising to his feet, the baby tucked in one arm, the empty bottle in his other hand.

  He placed the bottle on the changing table, carefully moved a sleeping Levi to his shoulder where he had a towel draped over it and gently patted the baby’s back until he let out the smallest burp. Matt grinned and laid Levi in his crib on his back.

  “Does he need to be changed first?”

  Matt stared into the crib and murmured, “Already done.” He nodded, like he was assuring himself that Levi was fine and he could leave him. With a last look, he turned and approached her, still stuck in the doorway.

  “You could’ve woken me up. You have to work today, I don’t,” she reminded him.

  “I know. But I wanted to help. He’s my son, too.”

  Oh yes, he certainly was.

  Jesus. She couldn’t stop crying. He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb.

  She dropped her forehead to his chest and his arms automatically came around her. “God, Matt. I got scared when I woke up and you weren’t in bed.”

  “I didn’t take my phone.”

  “I know.”

  “We have an agreement that if I leave the house, I take my phone.”

  “I know.”

  “I wanted you to get some sleep. You’ve been up most of the night.”

  Her third “I know,” never quite made it past her lips since a sob beat it. He kissed her forehead and wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck.

  “C’mon,” he urged, steering her around with the grip on her neck and back across the hall, leaving Levi’s door partially open.

  He left their door only open a crack. She normally liked it wider than that and when she went to push it open, he snagged her wrist and stopped her.

  “Leave it for now.”

  She flicked her eyes up to his face and noticed how his eyes had darkened and his nostrils flared. That was one way to get rid of her tears.

  “What do you want, Marine?” she whispered.

  “My wife.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his erection under his boxers, proving what he said was true.

  She pinned her lips together so she wouldn’t smile. “You’re assuming your wife wants you right now at zero dark thirty after a couple hours of sleep at most.”

  He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Does she not?”

  “She might be able to drum up some enthusiasm,” she teased, sliding her fingers over the long, hard ridge. “Especially since you’re already at attention.”

  He grinned and thumbed her nipples through the long-sleeved cotton nightshirt she slept in. The one that said, “Lay down the law, do a cop,” across the chest. He had bought it for her last Christmas as a joke. But she wore it all last winter and had dug it out again this year once it got cold.

  She supposed it was fitting since she was about to “do a cop.”

  The brush of his thumbs made her nipples turn to tight nubs, then he pinched the tips gently.

  “Stay right where you are,” she ordered, walking past him toward the bed, pulling off t
he nightshirt as she went.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he answered.

  She tossed it onto the nearby chair, knowing it would drive him crazy that she’d thrown it haphazardly. She slipped out of her panties and threw those on top, too, then turned to face him after rethinking climbing onto the bed. That could wait.

  He had plans. Well, so did she.

  She saw where his head had turned and noticed his shoulders had tensed. “My clothes are on the chair. What’s more important? That they aren’t folded, or that your wife is currently naked?”

  Having a child would test his Post-Traumatic Stress-induced Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, so she was trying to work with him to let the less important things go.

  A child was never going to be neat and orderly. Toys, clothes, food... Levi would create plenty of messes. He also wouldn’t understand that his father would struggle when seeing them.

  “Now, get undressed and keep your back toward me. Your wife wants to inspect her Marine.”

  She could imagine his grin at her words. His shoulders loosened and he crossed his arms over his abdomen, grabbed the bottom of his worn, loose olive drab T-shirt and slowly pulled it up his torso and over his head.

  Without hesitation, he also dropped his drawers.

  She let her gaze roam over him from his high and tight hair style, his corded neck, across his broad shoulders. It touched on the large Marines logo inked in black and grey into his back, the American Flag, and the words Semper Fi in a banner beneath it.

  One thing her husband was, was loyal.

  Dedicated to a fault.

  The round globes of his muscular ass drew her attention next. He worked out like a fiend. Alternating running and weights, keeping his body sculpted like an Adonis. Unlike her, who was a bit soft around the middle.

  But he needed to expel his anxiety somehow and going for a long run sometimes helped. Because of his routine, his thighs were powerful, his calves perfectly formed.

  “Turn around.” She whispered the order, but he heard it. He was listening carefully for her commands.

  He slowly turned and the first thing she noticed was his cock in his hand. The second was the raised scar along his ribs where he took a piece of shrapnel during one of his tours.

  Proof he could have died serving his country. Carly couldn’t imagine never having met him and loved him, or helping him through his struggles.

  The years he dedicated to the Marines left him a broken man. And once the Corps discovered just how broken he was, they sent him home against his will. He had felt betrayed after the years of loyalty, years of his life, he’d given. His heart hadn’t been ready to go, but his mind was too messed up to stay.

  The Marine Corps gave him up damaged and Carly accepted him as-is.

  Every day was a journey and some were more difficult than others. But the good days were worth dealing with the bad. And the man standing before her was worth it.

  “Looking mighty edible there, Marine.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he barked softly.

  Her lips curved in a slight smile as he folded both the T-shirt and boxers before stacking them neatly on the dresser. He probably would never be able to break that habit with his own stuff.

  She accepted it.

  It was who he was.

  That was Matt.

  And the OCD was the least of his issues.

  While his meds helped, his career as a cop did, too, especially since he worked with people, like his brothers, who knew what he dealt with. His family was also very supportive, even in his darkest moments.

  He rarely had those anymore but they still sometimes simmered just beneath the surface.

  Waiting.

  Just waiting for a reason to reappear.

  She worried that bringing Levi home would upset his current calm. Babies were exhausting and could be frustrating, especially when they were crying or screaming and no one could figure out why.

  In the five weeks since they brought Levi home from the hospital, Matt had adjusted better than expected. And luckily, Levi had done well, too. Especially after the circumstances surrounding his conception, pregnancy and birth.

  Levi was a fighter, just like his birth mother, Autumn, and also like Matt.

  For a man who had never wanted children...

  He was already attached to their adopted son and she worried that if anything happened to Levi, he would shatter into so many pieces he’d never be able to put himself back together again.

  Matt was the toughest man she knew.

  He was also the most fragile.

  She couldn’t love anyone more than she did him.

  Except for Levi.

  Her two “men” had stolen her heart and soul.

  She walked back to him, his eyes intense as they followed her. And when they stood toe to toe, she traced his lips lightly with her fingertips. His tongue darted out to touch them.

  “I love you,” she breathed.

  For the longest time, her telling him that scared him. Even now, when she said it, she didn’t miss the slight twinge.

  It was a reaction he couldn’t control.

  She circled him, dragging her fingers from one shoulder, along his collarbones, to the other shoulder and then across the top of his back. She raked her nails lightly down his spine, pulling a shiver from him.

  She stepped over to the wall because with what she wanted from him, she would need support. She placed her back against it and called his name softly, “Matt.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at where she stood, but he didn’t move from near the dresser. She hadn’t given him that instruction yet.

  She could see the pulse pounding in his neck, and his chest now rose and fell more quickly.

  Her own nipples ached for his touch, and she could feel her arousal dampening between her upper thighs.

  “Matt. Front and center.”

  Every time she gave him an order and he obeyed without question, without hesitation and with complete trust, it made her own pulse race, her heart beat rapidly and her lose her breath.

  She had been surprised to find it turned her on. Turned him on. But it was more than that...

  “To your knees, Marine,” she directed when he stepped close enough for her to feel his heat and the warm puffs of his ragged breathing.

  He immediately dropped to his knees and bowed his head, lowering his gaze.

  The man was beautiful. He had no problems putting himself in her hands completely. During sex, he actually preferred it. Needed it. It was when he could give up total control and let someone else dictate his actions. Like in the Marines, when he was given orders.

  He got used to being told what to do and how to do it. It got him through his years of service, through the devastation he not only witnessed, but helped create.

  Well, it had almost gotten him through, until everything became too much. Became too overwhelming to the point where he broke.

  And had been broken ever since.

  She lifted one bare foot and placed it on his right shoulder. He rose higher, but remained on his knees, as she dropped hers open, exposing herself to him. She brushed her hand over his hair and pushed on the back of his head. That was the only directive he needed.

  He fell forward, his mouth latching onto her pussy, his tongue sliding through her folds before planting his lips on her clit and sucking.

  She kept her ass pinned to the wall and let him do his thing, because he was good at it and needed no instructions.

  Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed, enjoying his mouth on her. He knew when to use his lips, his tongue, his teeth. When to nibble, to lick, to suck, to flick.

  He knew what would send her over the edge immediately, and what would draw out the pleasure.

  “Stroke yourself,” she managed to say.

  She forced open her eyes to watch. Because, while her husband was beautiful, watching him stroke his thick erection turned him into a stunning work of art.

  His fingers wrapped around
the root, squeezed until the veins protruded, and when he began to fist himself, his mouth continued the onslaught on her pussy.

  Her legs trembling, she pressed herself harder into the wall. Otherwise, she might slide down and melt into a puddle.

  While sucking on her clit, he dragged two fingers through her folds, gathering her juices. Using that and the precum beading at the tip of his cock, he began to fist faster now that it was lubed.

  The faster he stroked the faster he licked, pulling a shaky moan from between her lips. “Matt.” The toes on the foot she had planted on his shoulder curled and she began to wobble dangerously, so she slammed one hand onto the wall and used the other to grab his head, holding on for balance.

  Hot breath beat rapidly against her pussy.

  “Don’t you dare come,” she ordered. “That’s mine.”

  His stroking slowed, his mouth did not, and he made a noise. Whatever it was, was muffled. But she had a feeling he was struggling. Her muddled mind needed to remember that she ordered him to masturbate, that meant she needed to order him to stop.

  “Stop stroking and make me come.” Her order sounded weak, as she was struggling herself.

  The flat of his tongue brushed over her clit. A few more flicks with the tip and a scrape of his teeth, and she was there.

  Her fingers flexed against his head, her nails digging in. She slapped a hand over her mouth to smother the wail that rushed from her, and her orgasm made her buck against him. He held her hips, stabilizing her, holding her from simply dropping to the floor and he pulled his mouth away. From his place on his knees, he tipped his face up, his eyelids heavy, his light blue eyes unfocused, his lips shiny and parted.

  A string of precum hung off the very tip of his cock.

  “On your feet.” Her words came out breathless and, again, not at all like the order she meant them to be, but he rose anyway, his eyes pinned to hers. “I want that.”

  And that’s all she had to say. He caught the dangling string on his thumb and lifted it to her lips.

  “Fuck,” he groaned as she took his digit into her mouth and licked it clean.

  “Another time,” she answered his unspoken question. She didn’t want to go to her knees, she wanted him to take her against the wall.