Dr. Bad Boy

by Ainsley Booth

  At this point, I’d take whatever vanilla sex might be on offer—except none is.

  My dick flexes at the thought of being buried inside her, and she wiggles against me. “Mmm. Max…”

  Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ. My willpower is not this strong. Not when I haven’t heard that kind of sound come out of her mouth in more than a week. We’ve been inching back to a good place, but something isn’t clicking just yet. I curve my arm around her waist and press my mouth to her neck. “Good morning.”

  “Merry Christmas,” she whispers. Her eyes are still closed. I’m not sure she’s awake. She rubs her bottom against me again and my stomach flips. My thighs actually shake from the pressure it takes to not thrust against her.

  “You want coffee?”

  She makes a little groaning, thinking sound, then shakes her head. “I want you.”

  Heat flares through me. “Are you sure?”

  She takes my hand and slides it down her belly, between her legs. She’s dripping for me, and I lose my mind. “I’ve missed you,” I growl as I stroke through her folds, finding her clit and rolling my fingertips around it. She’s so responsive, her hips moving as I touch her.

  “Me?” she whispers. “Or your kitten?”

  Just goes to show that I don’t know anything. I pinch her clit, making her gasp before I haul her thigh up on top of mine and slap the soft skin right where her leg meets her sex. “Is that what you want? You want a little holiday kink to start your Christmas right?”

  “Yes, please.” She moans and twists in my arms as my cock finds its way between her legs. “Oh, Max. Yes.”

  The first wet touch of her cunt against the head of my erection is a short-circuit for my brain. He wants in. I want in. Just the tip, just for a second.

  Fucking hell, that’s how we ended up here, isn’t it? I laugh to myself as I wrap my fist around my erection and nudge the head through her folds.

  “What?” she asks, the word cutting off as I start to push inside her.

  “Never you mind, my kitten,” I growl. “Just know that this is exactly where I want to be.” I pulse my hips, fucking her in shallow, teasing little strokes that feel like heaven to me.

  But Violet wants more, and despite her initial submissive plea to be taken, she’s being awfully bossy this morning. “More,” she protests, rolling her hips.

  And when she doesn’t get the immediate deeper contact that she wants, my little minx pulls away from me—and crawls onto all fours.

  “Please, Max,” she whispers, tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder and lowering her cheek to the mattress. Her ass is waving in the air and I may just die and go to heaven.

  “Please…what?” I ask as I get behind her.

  “Fuck me. I need you.”

  She’s so beautiful, so fucking sexy, and this time I don’t hold back. This time I slam right into her, giving her all I’ve got.

  Her back arches as I squeeze her ass, both hands, one on either cheek. My left thumb traces the sensitive skin around her pucker. Pink and delicate. She needs a plug in there, one big enough for me to feel it as I fuck her. If we’re back on in every way, then that’s tomorrow’s plan.

  I rub a gentle, stimulating circle there and she shivers. I feel that shiver all the way inside where she clenches around me. “You like that, kitten?”

  “Mmm. Yes.”

  “One day soon I’m going to take this ass.”

  “Ohh…” she breathes.

  “Not today. We need to train you up to it. I don’t want it to hurt. Want it to feel so good for you when I stretch you open. When I fuck my big, thick cock into your tight little ass for the first time.”

  She’s shaking now, and that pucker is clenching, too. I press a little, working the tip of my thumb into her. Jesus. So tight. It’s fucking hot, watching my thumb disappear inside her. I could fuck her with a finger there, two fingers she’d take, but damn it, I’m already close and she’s close and any second now she’s going to come around me and—

  With a cry, she explodes and I follow her, pumping my cock into her cunt, my sweet little pussy. Mine. Fucking mine, and I’ve missed it, and I’ve missed her.

  Damn. Merry Fucking Christmas indeed. I fall on top of her, grinning like a stupid fool.

  One very long, very loving shower later, we finally make it downstairs and make breakfast together. She’s always touching me with a hand or her hip, leaning against me as we make biscuits and coffee, special sausages she found at the market that she’s all excited about. They’ve got blueberries and maple in them, for God’s sake, but they make her happy, and as far as weird pregnancy cravings go, sausages are pretty easy.

  Plus, once we finish cooking them, I have to admit they’re pretty good.

  After we eat, she pulls me into the living room for present opening. Next year we’ll have a six month old baby, and we’ll need a Christmas tree. Maybe. Six-month-olds probably don’t care about trees, but Violet will. I was surprised she didn’t demand we get one this year, some sad-sack Charlie Brown tree. Instead she was happy to just string up some lights, and the red and green handcuff garland.

  “Nobody else will see it,” she said. “And I like it.”

  I like it too. And I love her. I haven’t said it out loud yet, but it’s on the tip of my tongue constantly. I don’t know what’s holding me back.

  The only other decoration in my house is a sprig of mistletoe in the archway, and I stop her there.

  “Mistletoe,” I whisper as I lean in and capture her mouth.

  She opens for me, her lips sweet and soft.

  “Violet,” I say, cupping her cheek. I lightly dance my thumb across her bottom lip as I search her face for a sign this is the right time to say it.

  She smiles, but that’s not enough.

  There isn’t going to be a sign, you idiot. Love’s a fucking risk, take the fucking leap. I know that’s the right answer, but I’m scared.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  I take a deep breath. “I love you.”

  Her eyes light up, and just like that, it’s not scary. She grins. “I love you, too.”

  “Merry Christmas,” I add, kissing her again. “Merry Christmas, love.”

  Now that’s an endearment I could get used to.

  “Most definitely,” she says, her eyes twinkling as she tugs me closer to the presents.

  Buying her presents had been a challenge. I didn’t want to get her more clothes and shoes and underwear, although all of those are good. But they’re now tied to scenes for me, and until this morning, I wasn’t sure where we stood on that front.

  I should have just asked her, although I don’t think I’ll ever forget that Christmas fuck as long as I live, so maybe this way was good, too.

  Her presents for me have been sitting on my coffee table for two days now. Other people might find that tempting. I just found it a good source of intel for my last minute Christmas Eve shopping yesterday. She got me three gifts, one small, one medium, one large. The medium one looks pretty much like a book. Not sure on the other two, but logic suggests that if a book is given full weight as a wrapped gift, the other two might be commensurate in value.

  On the other hand, I’ve already been proven an idiot once this morning, so I might have no clue.

  Regardless, I followed that lead and bought her three gifts as well: small, medium, and large.

  “How do you want to do this?” I sit down on the floor next to the coffee table and spread my legs. She sits in front of me and I wrap my arms around her. “Alternate or do you want to open yours first?”

  She laughs. “No and no. You go first.”

  “I don’t like that plan,” I protest. I’m eager for her to open her gifts now.

  “Tough.” She grins and hands me the medium one, that I’m pretty sure is a book.

  I rip the glossy paper, and it’s actually three books.

  Three Dr. Suess books.

  I laugh and lift the cover on the first one, Oh The Pla
ces You’ll Go. Inside she’s written an inscription.

  Max,

  I almost got you a different travel book, but given how our lives are about to change, this one seemed most appropriate. Let’s teach the little one to love adventures as much as we do.

  Love, Violet

  Christmas 2016

  I move the books to one hand so I can cup the back of her neck with the other, pulling her close for a kiss. “Thank you,” I whisper. I mean that for a hell of a lot more than the book, but it’s a good place to start.

  “Keep reading,” she whispers against my mouth, and I ease back.

  The next one is How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

  Max,

  Welcome to Whoville.

  Love, Violet

  Christmas 2016

  I swallow hard at that. I haven’t read the book in years, but I’m pretty sure I know what that means. No matter what, Violet’s going to make sure I celebrate Christmas. That it’s a happy day, and a simple day.

  I clear my throat. “Wow. That’s…”

  “Too dorky?”

  “No. It’s perfect.”

  “One more,” she says, pointing to the last book with a little smile.

  One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.

  I don’t know how I know, but this one’s going to be the worst. And by that I mean the best. I flip open the cover.

  Max,

  Next Christmas, you can read this to our child.

  Love, Violet

  Christmas 2016

  I set the books aside and tumble her to the ground. “I love you,” I say against her mouth. “I don’t deserve you, and you’re amazing, and you’re having my baby. I love you.”

  She laughs, but I steal that because I kiss her. I kiss her long and hard and deep, stroking my tongue against hers as my hands eagerly trace her curves. I’m stroking her nipple with my thumb, slowing tongue-fucking her as I’m thinking about using those handcuffs in the garland for a better purpose when she presses her hand against my chest and shoves me back.

  “I love you too, baby, but there are still more presents to open.” She bites her lip and lies back against the carpet.

  Too tempting. I crawl over her and she squeaks, rolling away.

  “Presents!”

  I sigh and reach for the next one. It’s a tie. “You’d look good tied up with this,” I growl.

  That sends her into peals of laughter. “That’s what I thought you’d say,” she giggled. “When I bought it.”

  “Good.” I wink at her and reach for the last one. It’s biggish, and square, but actually quite light when I pick it up.

  Under the paper I find a cardboard box with the top folded shut, one flap half over the next. It’s beat up, and it looks like a decoy box to hide whatever’s inside. Clever little Christmas game, I’ll have to remember that for next year.

  When I tug open the flaps, I catch a flash of blue, green, and white.

  I’d know the Vancouver Canucks colours anywhere. I lift out the jersey, a grin on my face, and a smaller jersey falls into my lap.

  It’s so fucking small.

  My gifts are so…selfish in comparison.

  She crawls next to me. “Too much?”

  “No.” Jeez, I’m getting choked up.

  “I didn’t put your last name on the back, I didn’t have time, but…I thought…you know.”

  “You weren’t tempted to get us Leafs jerseys?” I make a joke, because my heart is still catching up to the moment.

  She laughs. “I’ll sneak those into the closet.”

  I groan as she wraps her arms around me. “My turn now.”

  “Wait,” I say, holding her close. “My presents… they’re not baby related.”

  “Awesome,” she says, her voice sweet and soft. “Why are you warning me about that?”

  “Because your stuff was just so thoughtful.”

  She pulls back, and I don’t miss the eye roll. “I know you like to pretend you’re not romantic, Max, but I’m going to bet that whatever you got me is plenty thoughtful.” She wiggles her fingers. “Gimme.”

  I start with the biggest one. I got this at the grocery store yesterday.

  She rips off the wrapping paper and starts laughing. It’s an econo-pack of sunscreen.

  “Technically there is a baby one in there,” I point out.

  “I see that,” she giggles.

  I hand over the next one. This was fun to pick out from the timely email Nordstrom sent me last week with an alert that it was my last chance to buy with free holiday shipping. It’s light as air, and will look amazing on her.

  She unwraps it and holds it up. “Wow.”

  “That might be more a present for me,” I admit.

  The bikini is…small. Black and nothing but strings and a few triangles of fabric

  “Your presents come with a good amount of commentary,” she says dryly as I hand over the smallest present. I carefully fashioned this to look like a small box, but it’s really just an envelope. Two can play at the decoy game.

  The dates for the tickets are totally flexible, whenever she can get the time off, but sometime soon, I’m taking Violet to—

  “The Bahamas?” She throws herself into my arms.

  I grin. “Merry Christmas, kitten.”

  45

  Max

  After a lazy Christmas afternoon together, we head across the city to her building. She’s making a cranberry apple crumble for Misfit Christmas dinner at her friend’s, and I don’t have all the supplies for that but she does. So we get to her apartment an hour before we’re expected at dinner, and she whips the crumble topping together while I help reach things that are up high.

  Once it’s in the oven, I wrap my arms around and hug her from behind. “We could start packing.”

  “Packing what?”

  “Your stuff.” I gesture around the apartment. “To move over to my place.”

  She turns around and gives me a curious look. “Oh. Right.”

  “You don’t want to?”

  “I do!” She nods. “I’ll pack up some clothes.”

  I follow her into her room and watch her flip through the hangers in her closet. “Are you thinking about keeping this place?”

  She makes a noncommittal noise and keeps searching through her wardrobe. One in every four items is coming out and being piled on the bed.

  One in four suggests the other three are staying here.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Violet.”

  “Yes?” She gives me a quick glance over her shoulder, but darts her attention away again just as quickly.

  “Do you want to keep this apartment for a while?”

  She nods.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  A little shrug. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I just assumed that’s how it would go. That I’d stay with you most of the time, but…”

  Stay with me. I frown. “I want you to move in with me. I don’t care if you keep this place as a backup, either because packing is daunting or you just want that autonomy, but I want you to live with me.”

  “Oh.”

  Jesus. My frown deepens. “Isn’t that a good thing? I’ve never done this kind of thing before, kitten. Feel free to help me out if I’m stumbling down the wrong path.”

  She sighs and crosses the room to me, walking right into my body and wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. “No,” she whispers into my chest. “It’s not the wrong path. I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. Jesus, I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear.” I think back over the last few days. I’d suggested we get her stuff and she’d waved me off, because I had to work and she had Christmas shopping to do. “I’ll arrange for movers to help you after the holidays.”

  “I don’t have that much stuff.”

  “But you’re growing my child, so let me handle it.”

  She smiles against my chest, I can feel her cheek move, and I gently lift her chin so I can see tha
t beautiful face of hers.

  “Violet, I want to be with you every step of the way here. Christmas and baby growing and the whole thing. I want to lighten your load.” I lean in and brush my lips against hers. “Because I love you. Got it?”

  “Got it,” she whispers back.

  “Now I think we’re going to be late for your neighbour’s Christmas party, aren’t we?”

  “Maybe.” She kisses me again, this time licking along my bottom lip. I’m going to think about that all night, and then put that tongue to work when we’re alone again.

  46

  Violet

  Ellie calls me right after Max leaves for work. They’re back from B.C., but Gavin is off again doing something official and Sasha wants to go shopping. Do I want to go with them?

  I look around the empty house. I could go back to my place and pack, but…I don’t know.

  Yes is the short answer. Yes, I want to go shopping. Yes, I want a distraction. It’s two days after Christmas and I’m a bit of a hormonal mess. Morning sickness has started, and I feel weird about the whole moving in with Max thing—because it’s great, but it’s also…I don’t know…weird, too, like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop or something.

  So we hit the insane zoo that is a suburban mall. Even though I’m not showing yet, the post-holiday sales are too good to pass up, and I’m going to need an entire maternity wardrobe. Yoga pants don’t cut it in the courtroom. Ellie swears we can loop Sasha in on my secret, and Max admitted he told his friend Tate, who helped him bring the bear home. Sometime soon I’m going to have to hire an employment attorney and officially tell my firm.

  My stomach flips. Maybe I’ll wait until the morning sickness phase has passed.

  I force myself to concentrate on just today, just shopping. Ellie takes no small amount of glee in the fact that someone recognizes her going into a maternity clothing store. “How long before that rumour starts?” she asks Sasha, and her friend just rolls her eyes.