Home for the Holiday

by Wendy Stone

  "I am not Steven,” he said softly, though he kept thrusting inside of me. “I could never hurt you like that, nor would I have given you this ring if I didn't want to spend my entire life with you. I want to be your husband, your best friend, and especially your lover until God takes us both. Which had better be on the exact same day. I don't want to go without you for a single minute."

  I could feel tears trickling down my cheeks even as my breathing grew more labored and I started moving against him. He kissed them away, whispering soothing words as he bent his cheek to mine. My legs slid up his, wrapping around his waist, my heels holding him fast as they locked in the small of his back.

  "You're my life,” I said, the sappy words fitting comfortably on my tongue. I'd never been able to speak to Steven or any other man like this. But the look in Nicky's eyes, the joy on his face made saying the words more than worthwhile.

  "Good. Then no more worries, no more concerns?” he asked, his forehead resting against mine.

  I gasped as one long stroke of his body made his cock rub deliciously against my clit. I longed to have my hands free so I could touch him, so I could caress his body and let him know how I felt. But he only laughed as I begged him to free me.

  "Not yet,” he growled against my throat. I let my head fall back, eager for more of him against my skin.

  "Why not?” I asked, struggling with my bonds.

  "Because I kind of like you this way,” he teased, nipping at my throat. “Naked, tied up, and ready for anything I want to do."

  The idea of doing the same to him flitted across my thoughts. That long, leanly muscled, naked body of his spread out for my entertainment, for my fulfillment, for my pleasure? Oh, how could any woman not groan at the thought of that?

  My climax was just out of reach and I strained for it, rubbing against him, my breasts pressing into his chest, my body undulating under his. “Please,” I cried, not caring if anyone outside of our little heaven could hear me or not. “Please, baby."

  He reached down and grabbed my legs, lifting them up and over my shoulders until I was bent almost in half. His cock went deep and I gasped, my eyes fluttering shut at the sensations. He ground against me and I grunted, coming hard upon his cock. My hands twisted at the incredible sensations. I couldn't breathe, I didn't care that I couldn't breathe, I just didn't want it to stop.

  "Oh, God,” I heard Nick shout. I knew he was coming but I didn't feel it; my body was shorting out, jerking against him, my toes permanently curled. I didn't even realize Nicky had untied me until he cuddled me in his arms, his big body behind me.

  "You okay?” he asked, dropping a kiss on my temple.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice yet.

  He chuckled, a very self-satisfied sound. I let him get away with it. He deserved it. But later...

  Snuggling against him, I yawned and stretched, closing my eyes as he grabbed one of the blankets left on the small table and covering us with it.

  "Sleep, baby, we still have a long way to go to get to New York."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eleven

  The train pulled into Grand Central Station right on time. Nick helped me down onto the platform. I was still sleepy and a huge yawn surprised me before I could cover my mouth.

  Nicky laughed. “You just aren't a morning person, are you, baby?"

  "You make that sound like it's a personality flaw,” I said, shivering into my coat. “A lot of people work better in the afternoon and night. We aren't all cheery, happy people in the morning like you."

  Nick stroked the side of my face with his fingers, dropping a kiss upon my pouting mouth. “I love you no matter what time of day it is, crabby or not,” he teased and I felt the small smile that curved my lips.

  He gathered our luggage and then we went out to the street. I was eager for my first real look at New York City. I'd heard so much about it, so many great things. I couldn't wait to experience them all.

  Nicky hailed a cab when we walked out the doors. “You're parents aren't picking us up?” I couldn't help but ask.

  "No, I told them we'd take a cab so not to bother getting up earlier than normal.” He shrugged, helping me into the back seat of a taxi that smelled a bit like a bar. “Besides, this way I get you to myself a bit longer.” He gave the cabbie the address and then leaned back, pulling me into his arms.

  His kisses were warm, loving, and growing more heated. I responded despite the many times we'd made love on our way here. It was like they'd never happened and I longed to feel him against me again, to find that closeness, that amazingly beautiful love we shared.

  His hands snuck under my coat and one curved over my breast, kneading it lightly. My head dropped back and his lips went to my throat, sending my pulse into overdrive and my heart thudding. “What are you doing?” I hissed at him.

  "You'd think after this afternoon I wouldn't have to explain all of this to you,” he teased, his fingers finding my nipple through the thickness of my clothes and pinching it.

  "But the cabbie,” I yelped, smacking at his hand.

  "Okay,” he said, holding his hands up. “I'll behave."

  "You don't know how to behave,” I stated smugly, though I narrowed my eyes at him.

  "I do, too,” he threw back at me.

  "Oh no, I'm not getting into one of those,” I giggled, leaning over and drawing his head down to mine. I kissed him slowly, wondering how I'd gotten so lucky this time around. He was handsome, funny, and we could actually communicate. And, most importantly, he made my toes curl in bed. I could never want for anything more.

  The cab pulled up in front of a huge brownstone and I gulped, suddenly anxious about meeting his parents. It was getting close to five-thirty and though it was still dark outside, there were lights on in the house. I stood to the side while Nicky paid the cab and grabbed our bags, quickly pulling down my wrinkled sweater as well and trying to brush some of the wrinkles out of my pants.

  "They're awake?” I asked him as he started to head up the steps.

  "It's probably Lucy,” Nicky said. “My mother never stirs until ten and Dad is up and out of the house by seven every morning. He goes to his club to work out and eat breakfast and then he's in the office until nine or ten at night."

  "Even with you home on vacation?” I had to ask, a bit put off by the coldness of it all.

  "Not everyone has a family straight out of some kind of television show,” he said, grinning down at me. “Your family is like the white version of the Cosbys."

  "What?” I gasped, even knowing he was kidding. But it was forgotten as the door opened. A middle aged woman stood there, her uniform spotless and her bright hair pulled back into a bun. It was such a vivid red, it couldn't be real.

  "Lucy!” Nicky exclaimed. He dropped the bags and lifted the woman in his arms, spinning her around.

  "Shh, Mr. Nicky, you'll wake up the rest of them. Come in, come in. This must be your young lady."

  She pushed Nicky away but I could see the affection in her eyes and in the way she glowed from his greeting.

  "She sure is. Lucy, this is Kenna McEwen. Kenna, this lovely lady here raised me since I was ten. She kept me out of trouble and used to sneak Twinkies in my lunch when my mom wasn't looking."

  "Hello,” I said, smiling warmly at her. If she'd been such a big part of Nick's life, I knew I would love her as well.

  "You're a pretty one, but way too skinny. Don't you ever feed her, Nicky?” Lucy asked, her eyes resting warmly on his broad-shouldered form. “Never mind, we'll take care of that while you're here. I want to hear all about Michigan, if you aren't too tired from the trip.” She shooed us into the house.

  It was huge and as alarmingly elegant as I it had appeared from the outside. Marble on the floors, silk on the walls and original paintings in every nook and cranny ... and that didn't even include the furniture. Furniture made for some duke's ballroom sat upon elegant rugs. It made me even more nervous to meet Nick's parents. Lucy
pointed out the salon and then the library. Of course, a place like this would have a salon and a library.

  I began to worry that Nick's mom would wear pearls and skirts even when she stayed at home. I hadn't brought anything with me that looked as if it would suit this house. God, how was I supposed to impress this woman into thinking I was near good enough for her son? All I knew was the good country manners my parents had instilled within me.

  I could feel the panic attack wanting to take hold and forced myself to take even breaths, even as I followed Nicky back through the beauty of this house. The hallway grew less glamorous and more suitable for a house that I would be comfortable in, then opened into a huge and lavish kitchen. Sterling silver gleamed everywhere, shone to an impressive shine. The counters were granite and glossy, not a single stain or crumb to be seen. In some ways, those counters made me feel more at home. I relaxed just a bit. My mother's counters were like that; things put away, not a stain or a crumb in sight.

  Nicky took my hand, holding it firmly in his own as he spoke to Lucy of Michigan. He pulled a stool up to one of the wide bars and then grabbed another for me. While he continued to speak, Lucy moved around the kitchen, whipping up breakfast with a grace that was amazing to watch.

  She quickly created a huge omelet which she deftly cut in half, adding a heaping scope of fried potatoes and slices of toast. Sitting it down in front of us, she added homemade preserves and a glass of orange juice as well as cups of coffee.

  It smelled heavenly and I told her so, taking my first bite of omelet and feeling like that cartoon dog that would smell something and float away on the scent. I don't think I've ever had a breakfast where I ate so much. I almost resorted to licking the plate.

  "Lucy, that was fabulous. You've got to teach me your trick with those omelets. I've never had one come out even close to that good."

  It must have been the right thing to say, because she beamed. “I'd love to, Miss Kenna, but you two should get some sleep before the missus wakes up. She's eager to see her son. It's been all she's talked about, Mr. Nicky."

  "I find that hard to believe,” Nicky said softly. “After the way I left, I'm surprised anyone wanted to see me at all."

  "Oh, son, that's not true. Not at all. We might not like your choices sometimes, but I have to admit that I'm proud of you for sticking up for them."

  Nicky almost spun off the stool. Standing at attention, he stared at his father in consternation. “Dad,” he said softly. “You look good."

  I sat back and studied the man, noting the tension in the room. It was so thick you could cut it with the proverbial knife. No wonder Nicky wanted me with him when he had this confrontation. I rose as well, stepping next to Nick's side.

  "Mr. Grenfield,” I said, stepping in front of Nick and holding out my hand. “My name is Kenna McEwen and I'm a friend of Nick's."

  He took my hand, engulfing it in a Nicky-sized hand and squeezing gently. “Much more than a friend, I'm sure. My son has always had fantastic taste in women."

  "We're engaged, Dad,” Nick said softly, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I love her."

  "That's fantastic,” the older, slightly harder version of Nick said. “Does she love you?” he asked, staring into my face.

  "Yes,” I said with no hesitation whatsoever. “With my whole heart."

  Lucy hurried up with a cup of coffee for Nick's father and the spell was broken. “I hope we'll be able to get to know each other better over dinner,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I'd call in today and work from home, but I have to go to the courthouse."

  Nick nodded, watching his father with a cautious expression. It was almost as if he wanted to reach out and take what the man seemed to be offering, but was afraid. I nudged him with an elbow and when he glanced down at me, I nodded toward the man.

  Nicky rolled his eyes at me but then stepped forward as his father set the cup down on the counter. “Dad?"

  "Yes, Nick?” The hopeful look in the older Grenfield's eyes made my heart beat faster.

  "It's really great to see you,” Nick said, giving his father a hug that made tears well in my eyes, especially when the hug was returned with immense enthusiasm.

  "It's really wonderful to see you too, Nick. I've missed you. Get some sleep and we'll talk tonight. I'm looking forward to getting to know your Kenna more."

  Then he was gone, leaving Nick standing with his mouth open in surprise.

  "Where are we staying, Lucy?” he suddenly asked, as if the whole thing were too much to be believed.

  "The missus put you both in your old room, Mr. Nick. I think you can find the way."

  "Wait, she put us in together? Why did she do that? Are the guest bedrooms full?"

  "No, Mr. Nick. She just thought that when you called to say you were coming and bringing an important guest, you'd want to stay together."

  "M-My mother said this?” he asked, shocked. “Are they adding something new to the water, Lucy?"

  "No, Mr. Nick. Your parents have missed you since you left. They want to try and make amends."

  Nick picked up his suitcase and mine. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said, leading the way up a back staircase that led to another of the sumptuous hallways. There were doors on either side, one looking the same as the others. So when he suddenly stopped in front of a door and opened it, gesturing for me to go in ahead of him, I wasn't sure what to expect.

  The wallpaper was done in a muted plaid of greens and blues, a crest running along a border at the top. The room was twice the size of mine, with a queen sized bed sitting against one wall. Trophies lined a case that sat on one side and an old Star Wars movie poster was on the wall above a chest of drawers. I didn't know what I had expected but I wasn't sure this was it. It looked almost ... normal.

  "Your dad and you look a lot alike,” I said, turning to look at him.

  He stared at me for a second and then reached out, tugging me into his arms. He'd kicked the door shut when he'd followed me in and our suitcases sat in front of it now, almost like sentinels to keep anyone else out. When his head dipped and his mouth covered mine, heat seared through me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers twining in the too-long hair at his nape.

  I'd known Nick when he'd been desperate to have me. This felt different somehow, almost as if he had to have me to solidify who he was. As if burying himself in my body would make things more normal than they were now. Well, who was I to complain?

  He tore my sweater over my head, his lips leaving mine for only a second. Then his fingers were fumbling with the clasp on my bra and it too was gone. He pushed me back over his arm, his lips trailing down across my chest and latching onto my nipple. Desperation made his suckling a bit too hard and I moaned softly, unable to deny him what he needed from me.

  My hands fumbled with his shirt buttons, finally yanking it from his shoulders and off his arms. The button on his fly almost defeated me, but I pushed him back so I could use both hands. I finally got it open, unzipping his zipper and feeling the rigid proof of his need under the soft material of his briefs. His head fell back as he felt my hand roaming over that ridge, squeezing gently.

  "God,” he rumbled, his moan one of pure heat. I eased him backwards gently, watching as his feet became tangled in the jeans and he sat down on the side of the bed as he lost his balance. I dropped to my knees, half naked in front of him, tearing off his shoes and yanking on the legs of his jeans until they came free. Forcing him backward with one hand against his chest, I watched him come up on his elbows, wearing such an expression of need that I thought I would go up in flames.

  I slid my fingers in his briefs, pulling them down slowly, raising the waistband so that it slid over the top of his cock, caressing him. He lifted his hips to help me, and I smiled slowly, licking my lips as I saw the proof of his desire, hard, erect, waiting for me. “Nice,” I said, my hand slowly stroking him, lubricating him with the moisture that came from his cock.

  He shivered under my hands and I fel
t powerful. I had control of this man, I could take him and make love to him or turn away, if that was my wont.

  Instead, I moved closer, licking his cock from the base all the way to the tip, eliciting a groan unlike any I'd heard from him before.

  "Fuck, Kenna, that feels so good,” he hissed. I did it again, this time trailing my open mouth up his cock, taking the head into my mouth and sucking on it. His hips moved and I knew he wanted more. I took him deep into my mouth. His sudden intake of breath told me I was pleasuring this man that I loved more than my own life.

  His hands dug into the fiery tresses of my hair and suddenly he held me still, his hips moving as he gently fucked my mouth. I wrapped my lips around his shaft, determined to make him happy, to give him what he needed.

  My breasts pressed against his thighs, my hard nipples rubbing against the coarse hair as he moved. I could feel myself getting wet, getting pleasure from giving it. With a sigh, I moved my hand down and undid my pants, sliding my fingers into my panties. With one finger, I stroked my clit in time to his thrusts into my mouth, feeling my own pleasure rising.

  Suddenly, he yanked me away, pulling me up on the bed next to him. My hand was still trapped in my panties and his eyes widened as he saw what I was doing. “Hmm, baby, that's a turn on."

  My pants and panties seemed to disappear, my short dressy boots vanished. My hand stayed where it was as he watched and I could feel myself coming closer to orgasm. When it hit, I cried out softly, calling his name as my eyes fluttered closed and I could feel the spasms with my fingers.

  Something hot struck my cheek and I opened my eyes, amazed to see Nicky with his hand on his cock, jerking himself against me, his come pooling on my stomach, tiny trails on my face and thighs. He buried his face in the pillow next to my head, groaning softly.

  "Feel better?” I asked him, using my free hand to stroke his hair and his back.

  "You always make me feel better,” he gasped. With a bit of an effort, he rolled to his back and got up, going to a door in the room that I hadn't noticed and returning with a hot wet towel that he used to clean me up. When he came back to bed, he put one arm under me and lifted, pulling the comforter down, as well as the sheet and blanket under them. “This will make me feel a lot better,” he said, sliding under the sheet with me. He pulled me into his arms, letting me pillow my head on his chest. “I love you,” he said in a rumbling voice. I knew he was tired when he began to snore, holding onto me like he would his teddy bear or a security blanket.