Unwrap Me Daddy

by Natasha Spencer

  Garrett thrusted into her with ever increasing force, his erection throbbing as he took her with ever increasing pace. He let his mouth wander down her throat, leaving kissing and nips to show his affection. He wanted so badly to fill her once more, and the sentiment made him groan, his shoulders trembling.

  “Won’t last,” he panted.

  “Good–” Sarah’s speech was cut off by her moan, and her hips bucked and rocked against him with an apparent need for him to fill her as well.

  He could feel her walls tightening around him, and when she came, bucking and moaning for him, he could hold on no longer. Garrett nearly shouted as he came into her again, grinding hard against her still-trembling body. He didn’t dare move, staying within her until the car turned into the familiar circle of his home’s drive. He regretfully pulled away, fixing his clothes and hers.

  Sarah smoothed her dress as she left the limo, a teasing smile on her full lips.

  “Ready for round two?”

  Garrett grinned at her question, and headed up the front steps after her, eager to show her how ready he was.

  20

  One Year Later

  It had been a long time since Garrett had awoken with the singular anticipation and delight that Christmas brought. He’d been a child, in fact, the last time he’d woken to the winter quiet and felt that perhaps there was some magic in the silently falling snow. This morning had been plain by any normal standard: the sun did not shine magically through his window to wake him, and the sound of sleigh bells did not intrude on his waking mind as if by magic. No, the sky was grey, the heavy clouds dark and brooding when he eyed them through his bedroom window.

  But there was magic in the air nonetheless, and Garrett wore a smile that wouldn’t quit for every moment of the too-long morning.

  The church they’d chosen was modest, compared to the expectations of the media and Garrett’s peers, but he and Sarah had been unable to resist its old world charm, and the setting felt right as the groom arrived and spent some time greeting and seating the guests as they all awaited his bride.

  Slowly, agonizingly so to Garrett’s mind, the pews filled, first with loved ones and close friends, then colleagues, and lastly a carefully curated selection of trusted reporters and photographers he and Sarah had invited to the event. Sure, the tabloid vultures were no doubt circling outside, but with authorized shots from inside the little cathedral, their trashy shots wouldn’t command nearly as much attention. He pushed the paparazzi from his mind, taking a breath and willing himself to live in the moment.

  The sun had made an appearance finally, and as Garrett faced the altar, the church’s rose window was struck by sunlight, staining the marble table with a myriad of colors warm and beautiful. The ceiling was vaulted, pale stone sculpted by the hands of master stonemasons in the distant past, and Garrett smiled as he closed his eyes, letting the calm majesty of the venue wash over him. He was going to marry Sarah. He was going to marry Sarah today.

  A sound broke his moment of silent reflection, the noise loud and sudden in the still ambience of the church. It only made Garrett’s smile widen, though, as he opened his eyes and found his son in the arms of Trisha. With a glance to the church’s huge wood and iron doors –still shut– he descended to the front row on Sarah’s side, where Trisha was holding the tiny infant, patting his back as he walked in waking.

  Trisha smiled up at him as he approached; she was already adoring grandmotherhood, and seeing how happy her daughter was… well… Garrett felt confident their relationship would continue to be a warm and close one, and he hoped it’d only grow closer over the years.

  “Your boy wants to be the center of attention, it seems.” She spoke softly, rubbing the little black and white bundle rhythmically as she expertly soothed his upset.

  “Can you blame him?” Garrett smiles as he reached for his son, but Trisha held a hand to stop him quickly, a deft hand reaching into Sarah’s nappy bag and extracting a burp cloth, depositing it with flourish onto Garrett’s shoulder in the blink of an eye.

  “Better safe than sorry.” She smiled as she gently passed the contented newborn to his father. Garrett only smiled, his face lighting up as he watched his sleepy son.

  “What do you think, Charles? Are you going to be quiet and give your mother her moment?”

  Of course, Charles made no reply, only squirming and snuggling into the crook of his father’s arm, sighing loudly as he settled. A tiny hand wrapped around one of Garrett’s fingers, and for a crazy moment he considered keeping his son with him through the ceremony,

  Trisha must have seen the idea form though, because she held her arm out to take back her grandson, giving Garrett a stern if amused shake of her head. “This moment is about the two of you; believe me, this little man is going to be making everything about him for years to come. He’ll forgive you if you leave him out of this one thing.”

  Garrett nodded, watching his son a moment more before passing the once-again sleeping infant back to his grandmother. “And Sarah might not forgive me if Charles ruined her dress before the photos.”

  Trisha’s eyes twinkled as she looked back up at him, having settled Charles into her arms. “She’s going to take your breath away.”

  “I know.”

  A tiny snore erupted from the bundle of blankets before Father Peter’s hand startled Garrett out of his daydream. “They’re here. It’s time.” The priest, a shorter man with steel-gray hair, copper-rimmed glasses and the most genuinely kind smile Garrett had ever observed on an almost perfect stranger, smiled as he gestured back at the altar. “Best be ready.”

  Garrett took a shaky breath, nerves awakening in his stomach as he nodded and smiled sheepishly at his son and soon-to-be mother-in-law. As he took the four steps to wait at the top of the church aisle, he took another deep, steadying breath as the church organ began to play.

  Vivaldi’s Four Seasons: Spring was neither a traditional wedding song nor well-tied to their Christmas Day wedding, but as the organ and string quartet struck up the opening chords, Garrett knew Sarah’s choice couldn’t have been more right. His heart beat a little faster, his stomach doing flip-flops, as the movements of the song built, and the massive iron-banded timber doors slowly swung inward.

  The church was full of people; their guests all stood and turned to watch Sarah’s grand arrival. Garrett saw none of it: not the flashes of the photographers’ cameras, the tearful smiles on the faces of family. He only had eyes for Sarah.

  He was transfixed as she made her stately way down the aisle towards him, her smile radiant as their eyes met. Her golden hair framed her face in soft curls, her head crowned by a diadem of sparkling white gems, and her veil of handmade Belgian lace and tulle.

  She had been secretive about her dress in the past weeks, and a little nervous about how it would fit her after having Charles. He had, of course, insisted that how she would look and how it would fit her could both be summed up with one word –perfect– and of course he’d been right.

  She’d chosen a gown in a pale, classic ivory that complemented her pale skin, which was exposed above the sweetheart neckline that he found it difficult at times to look away from. The bodice was corseted and covered in swirling floral embroidery that shimmered against the silken fabric, each flourish accented with the same sparkling white gems that glittered in her hair. The skirt was full and intricate, almost in the style of the French Renaissance, and the whole thing was finished off by a graceful train that flared behind her.

  Garrett didn’t even see Michael, who walked arm in arm with his daughter, until they were almost at their destination, so preoccupied was he with his stunning bride. His friend truly looked happy, proud, his head held high as he guided his daughter carefully, holding her arm steady lest she trip in her complicated skirts. Of course, in their social circles, black tie and even the white tie he wore now were not uncommon, and Garrett had seen his friend in such many times before now. This time was different, though Garrett could
n’t say whether it was his own emotion that transformed Matthew, or his friend’s.

  Matthew shook his hand after kissing Sarah on the cheek, his smile as warm and genuine as it had ever been. “You look after my Sarah.” He reached to squeeze Sarah’s hand once more before taking his seat beside Trisha.

  “Hi,” Sarah whispered from behind her veil, her eyes huge and sparkling with emotion as Garrett took her hands in his. He laughed; he didn’t know what he had expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. And yet it was perfect, perfectly unexpected, just like her.

  “You look…” One perfectly-shaped brow arched gently as Garrett floundered for words. What could he say? “...perfect.” Her cheeks blushed prettily as they so often had, and she opened her mouth to speak when Father Peter quietly cleared his throat behind them before leaning in conspiratorially.

  “Shall we begin?” The priest’s dark brown eyes glowed with merriment beneath his bushy silver brows, and it seemed in that moment nobody had ever enjoyed their job so much as he.

  The service was short and traditional enough, Father Peter making a point of not keeping the guests ‘cooped up in this drafty church when there is free food and drink waiting at the lodge.’ Everyone laughed, as they did many times throughout the ceremony. Sarah had chosen well, as she had with all of it.

  *****

  They exited the chapel to the sound of cheering and church bells, a flurry of rose petals bursting out the door with them to mingle with the gently falling Christmas snow. There was a moment of confusion as they descended the stairs to find no vehicle awaiting them, and Sarah turned to look up at her husband, tiniest traces of concern wrinkling her brow.

  He responded with a wink and a squeeze of her hand, however, and Sarah’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when she heard the faint, merry sound of sleigh bells approaching. “You didn’t!” She tapped him playfully on the arm before pulling him down to kiss soundly, Garrett having only time to grin at her.

  They’d looked into a sleigh drawn by horses rather late into the wedding planning, and in the end a disappointed Sarah had conceded defeat; there were simply no horse-drawn carriages left for love or money on Christmas Day. The two had spent some time finding a classic Rolls Royce to serve as a compromise, but Garrett had been able to sense Sarah’s disappointment all the while, and that just wouldn’t do.

  So he’d looked into it further, searching high and low until the perfect suggestion came from his long-time housekeeper, Mrs. Henderson. Her kind, dark eyes had twinkled as she put on the kettle that morning, a satisfied smile fixed on her lips.

  “Garrett, dear, you know you’re looking for entirely the wrong animal for Christmas, don’t you?”

  He’d looked up from his iPad, perplexed, “I am?”

  Nodding, she’d filled his intricately decorated Turkish coffee pot with boiling water before placing it on the stove, while Garrett waited in barely-restrained impatience. She was clearly enjoying drawing this out a little bit. “Santa’s sleigh was never pulled by horses, don’t you know?” She winked, tidying the kitchen as she waited for the coffee pot.

  “Oh my god, Mrs. Henderson, you’re brilliant.” Bursting from his chair, he crossed the room to kiss the older woman on her cheek before grabbing his phone. He knew just who to call, and couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this earlier.

  So it was that six reindeer, all bedecked in bell-encrusted harnesses, rounding the corner of the church to Sarah’s overwhelming delight. The sleigh was decorated in reds and greens, its driver elegantly presented in tails and top hat. The bench where the newlyweds were to sit was draped in warming faux-fur blankets, and Garrett was quick to cover Sarah’s bare shoulders with a fine ermine shrug. She kissed him as he drew close, to yet more cheers from their watching wedding guests. “This is perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you.”

  Garrett could only smile, for a moment overwhelmed by the unbridled happiness he felt and unable to speak. He cleared his throat around the lump that formed there, putting an arm around Sarah as he settled beside her, his other hand finding hers as the driver nimbly leapt back into his seat, urging the reindeer onward with a click of his tongue. In the end, Garrett decided not to speak; after all, they had the whole night ahead of them. Food, drink, speeches… their night in the alpine log cabin he’d booked, another surprise for his new wife, and of course, the rest of their lives. He knew he’d find the words to tell her how he felt eventually. For now, he simply held his bride.

  *****

  It was late when they finally reached the log cabin perched on top of the hill, overlooking the valley and hall where they’d danced, drank, and ate with their loved ones. Well, the guests had danced, drank, and ate; the happy couple found themselves too busy trying to get around and speak to all of their guests to eat or drink more than a bite here, a mouthful there. It didn’t matter, of course. For all their footsore exhaustion, the two both knew they’d never been happier.

  The cabin was full of the smell of cedar and Christmas spices when they entered, Garrett carrying Sarah bridal-style through the lancet-arched front door. She sighed happily and nuzzled into his chest, her hand already toying with the buttons to his shirt. “This place is like a dream,” she murmured as she peeled open the crisp white fabric, leaning further into his embrace to kiss the exposed skin of his chest. He could feel her lips curl into a smile as he closed the door behind them, the old iron key clicking audibly in the lock.

  Garrett only smiled, giving her a squeeze and rewarding her now-toothy kisses with an eager groan. It wasn’t far to their bed; the cabin had but one main room. To the left of the door sat a huge fireplace, in rough-hewn granite blackened by soot and time. To the right was a massive, merry Christmas tree which stretched all the way to the peak of the raked ceiling, and decorated with clove-filled citrus fruit, twinkling Christmas lights, and icicles of crystal glass. The main attraction of this exclusive honeymoon retreat, though, was the bed.

  Round and massive, larger than a super king, the bed sat on its lion-clawed feet at the far end of the room, opposite the door. Surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, the bed nook protruded from the rest of the cabin, cantilevering out over the valley below. When one lay in the bed, they had the impression of floating above the snowy forest and frozen lake below.

  The owners had laid out champagne on a silver platter at the foot of the bed, elegant crystal flutes crisscrossed in front of the ice bucket. The couple ignored the welcoming gift, Garrett stepping around it to place Sarah on the bed before taking a moment –not the first that day– to appreciate his bride in all her splendor. She blushed as she looked back at him, crooking a finger to beckon her husband down with her.

  He was only too happy to comply, messily trying to shrug out of his suit jacket before bending to kiss her, but in his eagerness, he got his arms stuck, ending up lying beside Sarah with his arms pinned behind him, the two of them chuckling at his eagerness.

  “I’ve never heard stories about the groom having trouble getting out of his clothes,” Sarah laughed as she rolled over to kiss her prone husband, eyes twinkling with mischief as well as merriment.

  The look was not lost on Garrett, who leaned into the kiss as best he could with his arms so pinned. “What’s that look fo–” The word was lost in a groan, however, as Sarah’s clever hand squeezed its way between them, stroking and rubbing at his cock through his trousers. She crooned in delight at how quickly he hardened for her, her other hand pulling roughly at the buckle of his belt, then the fastening of his trousers as she teased him all the while.

  “Looks like you’re at my mercy.” She sucked his lower lip between her teeth as she kissed him, reaching in to pull out his already rock-hard dick. Garrett tried to shift and shivered, surprised at how deeply he was enjoying this slight and accidental restraint. Sarah’s fingers traced delicately up and down the full length of his shaft, watching her own actions with undisguised lust. “I don’t think I ever told you how many times I lay in bed and imagined what
you’d feel like inside me…”

  Garrett groaned and bucked his hips into her squeezing, stroking hand, panting already and struggling to clear his head enough to ask a coherent question. “How’d I–” He had to take a breath as Sarah shifted her focus to the head of his cock, and he groaned again, “–measure up?”

  Sarah laughed, pushing Garrett onto his back –mindful to help him with his arms– before moving down his body, kissing as she went. “You have,” her lips pressed against his neck, teeth nipping before she moved lower, “the longest,” her fingers squeezed him tighter, making him gasp as she nuzzled against and kissed his chest, “thickest,” her kisses reached his hips, and Garrett squirmed eagerly, all but quivering in anticipation, “hardest cock I’ve ever seen.”

  Her mouth took him then, and for Garrett, the world stopped. He was helpless but to groan as her talented tongue did its wicked work, twisting and tasting around the swollen head of his manhood. All too quickly though, she stopped, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, one hand still lazily stroking his straining length. “I want my husband.”

  Together, they extracted Garrett from his suit jacket, the rest of his fine couture clothing joining it in a messy pile on the floor. He spun Sarah in his arms once they were through, hands moving quickly to the laces of her corset. Sarah, though, had other plans, a hand reaching behind her to stop him. “Once I’m out of this, that’s it.” She grinded her rear against his bared erection, and Garrett grinned in understanding, wrapping his arms around her as they moved together in a moment of mutual teasing. “I’ll only wear it once; let’s mess it up a bit.” She reached behind herself to stroke him again as Garrett kissed and sucked at her neck, his hands pulling her heavy skirts up and out of the way as she bent eagerly over the bed.

  Bending gently over her, Garrett craned to kiss her neck and cheek as he eased himself into her waiting warmth with a sigh. It was Sarah’s turn to moan as he filled her, the blonde grinding back greedily to take his length as fast as possible. “Been wanting that all day,” she breathed, stuttering at his first hard thrust.