by Nicola Haken
“Tell me what you want, doll.”
“I want you to do what you want,” I replied breathlessly. A soft laugh tumbled from his mouth and then immediately, he slammed harshly into me.
“Well I want to fuck you, doll. Hard.” Oh dear god I had never felt so turned on in my life. He wasn’t lying. Dexter drove into me hard and fast over and over again – stealing my breath away as I clenched and pulsated around him. “You like it like this, doll? You. Like. It. Hard?” he growled, thrusting deeply inside me in between words.
“Y-yes,” I answered shakily. And did I ever… he felt so much deeper this way. As he pounded me relentlessly I arched my bum so I was pressing impossibly further into him and with each plunge he hit a sensitive part of me I didn’t even know existed, leaving me almost crying in ecstasy.
“What about this?” I didn’t think it was possible but somehow he picked up his pace and assaulted me with unknown depths of pleasure – his heavy balls slapped against the underside of my bum cheeks and his hands gripped my hips so firmly it began to smart… but I didn’t care.
“Yes!” I screamed into a pillow in an attempt to mask the whimpers escaping involuntarily from my mouth. “Please, Dexter. Oh, god, please….”
“Please what, doll?”
“Harder. I need it harder. I’m almost there.” I felt no shame as I made my demands. I was too hungry – too desperate to relieve the violently throbbing ache between my legs.
“Ah, fuck, doll…. When you talk like that? Ah… fuck I love you…”
“I-I…” The seams were fraying… I was falling apart… “L-love you…” I bit hard onto the pillow under my chin to hide the screams of my orgasm. “Too,” I mouthed silently – my body quivering as Dexter slammed into me one last time. Then with a cry and a judder his body stilled behind mine and his warm, erratic breaths caressed the skin of my back as he laid his head between my shoulder blades. “I love you too,” I repeated – coherently this time.
Breathing harshly, my quaking legs gave way beneath me and I collapsed onto my belly. Dexter followed, though more gently than I, and rested his body on top of mine as he panted in my ear.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered into my ear. Smiling against the pillow, I reached behind me and laid my palm against his cheek.
“I really need to learn to be quiet,” I confessed, feeling embarrassed now it was all over. “Sarah might hear us.” Oh dear god, just the thought set my cheeks alight.
“She already has,” he mumbled. I flipped over immediately, pushing him out of me in the process.
“You’re lying!” I accused, utterly shamefaced.
“Sorry, doll…’fraid not.” I stared intently into his deep blue eyes – searching for any flickers of dishonesty. There were none. His face never faltered. He didn’t blink. He didn’t smile.
Oh lord…
“She’s an adult, doll. She knows people have sex,” he explained as if that made it totally okay. Oh god, had she asked him to tell me to keep it down? “She told me I must be doing something right in fact,” he said with a wicked smile.
“She didn’t!” At this point I genuinely didn’t know if he was taking the mick or not. If he was telling the truth, and she thinks he’s doing ‘something’ right… then she’s definitely heard me.
Oh god…
“Relax, doll. She thinks it’s funny.”
“Well I don’t!” I snapped, throwing a hand over my flushed face. “I’m mortified!” Dexter just laughed at me. The arsehole actually laughed. “I’m not having sex with you again ever,” I stated seriously.
“We both know that’s not true,” he replied confidently, tweaking one of my nipples between his fingers. “You wouldn’t last a day without feeling me inside of you.” I was so determined to prove him wrong… until my throat betrayed me, expelling a moan when he sucked a nipple into his mouth. “See what I mean?” he said proudly. “And I’m sure as hell Percy Penis would miss you too.” I giggled as I remembered the frigid day at the bus stop when he ‘named’ his man bits.
Then, his eager fingers wandered lower, tickling over the skin across my stomach as they made their way to my sweet spot which was only just beginning to calm down… and I was gone.
Damn.
Chapter Three
~Dexter~
I woke up fully when my arm reached out for Emily and I was met with a cold pillow. After rubbing my groggy eyes I flipped my gaze to the black LED clock on the nightstand – 07:13 AM. Maybe she just went to the bathroom, I thought to myself. It was Christmas morning – far too early to be up for the day. It was only when after a further fifteen minutes she still hadn’t returned to the cold mattress, I dragged my weary ass out of bed and set off in search of her.
Dressed in only my boxer-shorts I made my way down the stairs. I heard Emily’s unforgettable giggle before I’d even reached the bottom. She was in the kitchen with Aunt Sarah, standing by the stove peeling carrots.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked through a yawn, scratching at my head.
“Knitting you a Christmas sweater,” Aunt Sarah replied sarcastically. Emily giggled again and after hearing that musical sound it was impossible not to smile.
“You’re such a boy,” Emily added. “I bet you’ve no idea how much work goes into making a meal like this,” she tutted. She looked utterly edible in her tight jeans that clung to all the right places and a festive-red halter-neck top.
“And you do?” I retorted – quick as anything. “I got one word for you, doll. Thanksgiving.” Huffing, Emily screwed her face up and glowered at me.
“Yeah, well I didn’t have anyone showing me what to do then, did I?” she spat. She was pissed. It was adorable.
“What’s this all about?” Aunt Sarah asked inquisitively. Straddling a breakfast stool and making myself comfortable, I happily described in minute detail, Emily’s unsuccessful attempts to make me Thanksgiving dinner last month. The dinner she’d poured her heart, soul, time and money into… only for us to end up with a double pepperoni pizza from the local takeout.
“Oh, honey… that’s just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Aunt Sarah directed at Emily with a sweet motherly smile. “And know that in the future, if you ever plan something like that again, I’ll always be on the other end of the phone.”
“Ooooh no,” Emily replied, ticking her finger from side to side. “I’m never planning another meal like that again,” she resolved.
“But…” I questioned, waving my hand around the kitchen full of half-prepared Christmas food.
“This is different. It’s not my meal – it’s Sarah’s. Therefore if it gets messed up it’s not technically my responsibility.” Instantly throwing a hand over her mouth, she added “not that it will get messed up! I’m sure your Christmas dinner is the bomb!” Her adorable cheeks pinked and I knew she was worried she might’ve offended Aunt Sarah.
“Don’t worry, doll. Aunt Sarah’s completely unoffendable,” I reassured her. Is unoffendable even a word? Well it should be – because that’s what Aunt Sarah is.
“Right you…” Aunt Sarah’s finger jabbed me in the chest. “No men in the kitchen. Go on… out.” She shooed me away with her hand and Emily just stood there giggling. What is this? 1922?
“You gonna make me be alone on Christmas day?” I pouted.
“You’re going to be too busy to notice. Go upstairs and search out the fancy plates,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am!” I saluted her. Then I blew my two favorite girls in the world a kiss in turn and headed for the stairs.
It didn’t take much searching to find the china plates. They were where they’ve always been – in the bottom drawer of Aunt Sarah’s dresser, covered in a fine sprinkling of dust. I would’ve taken them down to wash but assumed I’d get my marching orders the second I dared step foot in the kitchen, so instead I left them in a neat pile on top of the dresser until someone hollered for me to bring them down.
Jesus, it was Christm
as day and I was bored out my freakin’ mind. Lying back on the guest room bed, I flicked through the cable channels on the old TV and almost immediately turned it off again. The screen was filled with all the joyful, Christmassy shit you expect on Christmas day and if you’ve seen one Christmas movie, you’ve seen them all. My only exception to that rule is Santa Clause The Movie. If you haven’t seen that, you totally should. It’s not Christmas without it.
Giving up on the idea of finding something half decent to watch, I decided to take a shower. Then when I reached the bathroom I figured a shower would only last a few minutes so I ran a bath instead, using some flowery scented shit from the shelf above the faucets to conjure up some bubbles.
I lay back in the almost scalding water, heels together – knees apart, for about twenty minutes before that started boring the fuck outta me too. I considered calling Emily upstairs to ‘scrub my back’ but knew she’d only tell me to piss off. So I thought about jerking off instead, even gave myself a bit of a tug down there, but without Emily, that was boring too. So, huffing in frustration, I clambered out the tub, pulled the plug and toweled myself dry.
I caught myself staring at the loose floor tile in the corner a couple of times while I was in there. But that’s all I did. Look. Everything’s been going great the past couple of days so I haven’t needed that shit to keep myself together. See? I’ve got this. It’s only a problem when I need it to get up in the mornings. As it stands, I can take it or leave it – and it’ll stay that way. I’ve had enough experience to know when I’m bordering on dangerous territory, and so the second I reach for that tile just because I ‘fancy’ what’s hiding beneath it… I’ll flush the whole thing down the fuckin’ shitter.
“Right, ladies, enough of this ‘no men in the kitchen bullshit,” I groaned when I entered the kitchen. “I’m freakin’ lonely over here.”
“Aww,” Emily cooed, wiping her hands on a dishcloth before coming over to me. “You feeling neglected, baby?” She planted a soft kiss on my cheek and I instantly regretted not jerking off in the bath because now, fucking her senseless was all I could think about.
“Damn right I am. It’s Christmas. And no one should be alone on Christmas right, Cindy-Lou?” I teased, referencing back to a moment we shared while waiting for the bus the day we decided to stick around for the holidays.
“Honestly, I don’t know what you kids are talking about half the time,” Aunt Sarah piped up, looking confused. “Seeing as you’re here, dice these.” She handed me a paper bag filled with shiny green apples and my mouth instantaneously started salivating at the thought of Aunt Sarah’s homemade apple pie. She only makes it on special occasions so it’s a good few months since I’ve felt it melt around my taste buds.
“Hell yeah,” I replied, taking the bag eagerly from her hands. “I’m telling you, doll… once you’ve tasted her apple pie – no other apple pie will ever compare.”
“Can’t wait,” Emily said while resuming her vegetable chopping duties by the sink. I don’t know why people even bother with vegetables. It’s not like anyone ever eats them. They’re only there to add a bit of color to your plate so why waste the time and effort spent preparing them?
Grabbing a knife from the drawer, I took up position beside Emily. We peeled and chopped together for a while before I was banished once again after being put in charge of dressing the table. Yeah I was bored, but this Christmas rocked. After vowing to forget about all the shit waiting for us outside this house for one day, everyone was really happy. The two most precious people in my life were really happy – and that made me really happy.
**********
“I got you something,” Emily whispered with one hand behind her back. We sat at the dinner table and Aunt Sarah had gone into the kitchen to grab the turkey. “It’s not much,” she added, “but it reminded me of you.” I cocked a curious eyebrow and she brought her hand out to the front. Inside it was a small, oblong box decorated in shiny gold wrapping with a tiny little silver bow stuck on top. Smiling widely, I teased the paper open carefully.
“Ha! It’s fuckin’ perfect I love it, doll,” I beamed, checking out the mini Harley in my hands. Emily grinned proudly, chewing on her bottom lip and making me want to fuck her right there on the table. “But I…” Instantly I felt like shit. “I haven’t got you anything.” We agreed we weren’t doing presents. I should’ve known in chick language that meant we’re doing ‘small’ presents. Man, I feel like a total douchebag right now.
“That’s what we agreed. Besides, I got this just after we got here. But then I went all psycho stalker on your arse and everything just… well it just didn’t seem appropriate anymore.” She was talking about the night she followed me here thinking I was cheating on her. Then of course the shit hit the fan, she found out about my mom and I decided it’d be a good idea to go out and get wrecked. Yeah, that memory wasn’t helping with the ‘feeling like shit-ness’.
“Dexter,” she said lovingly, cupping my face with one hand. “So much has happened recently and you’re being so strong. You’ve stopped running; you’re talking to me… that’s all I want from you. The only present I want this year, is you.”
Strong?
Yeah, I still felt like shit.
“Merry Christmas!” Aunt Sarah sang, walking towards the table with the turkey balancing gingerly in her hands just as I was about to reply to Emily.
“Fuck me, that’s huge!” I stated, eyeing up the bird big enough to feed half of Ohio. I suddenly felt a little nauseous knowing I’d be eating turkey for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next week.
“Will you do the honors, honey?” Aunt Sarah asked, holding a carving knife in the air.
“My pleasure,” I replied with an exaggerated arm roll. “Carving is man’s work,” I growled, flexing my arms like Popeye and kissing my guns.
**********
It was late evening by the time we’d finished clearing up after dinner. The amount of dirty dishes was ridiculous considering there were only three of us. We all chipped in. Emily washed, Aunt Sarah dried, and I mopped the floors before taking the fancy plates back upstairs and tucking them away in the dresser for another year.
I know I’m about to sound like a total pussy right now, but I had a bit of a silent moment as I looked around at my family. Emily was sprawled across my lap on the couch, fiddling with locks of her hair, and Aunt Sarah was curled up in a leopard print Snuggie on the armchair. On Emily’s insistence we were watching Jingle All The Way with Arnie Schwarzenegger (in case you’re from Mars, we weren’t actually ‘with’ Arnie – he’s in the movie) while passing a box of chocolates back and forth between us, and for the first time in forever, it felt like Christmas.
Arnie was busy running around as Turbo-Man when we all jerked our necks towards the sound of a light knocking at the door. As with every time the door went lately, you could hear three hearts sinking in unison. Deep down I knew it wouldn’t be my dad. It was Christmas Day for fuck’s sake. Not that I thought for a second he wouldn’t stoop that low, more likely he was too busy ruining Christmas for a new family he’d probably made over the years. Emily started to shift from my lap but Aunt Sarah waved her off with her hand.
“I’ll go. You kids enjoy the movie.” Seriously? Was she watching a different freakin’ movie?
Emily sat up anyway and perched herself on the edge of the couch with her arms crossed over her knees. Aunt Sarah seemed to walk in slow motion towards the door and suddenly the TV faded into insignificance – the only audible sound was that of the door creaking open.
Chapter Four
~Emily~
Sarah stepped out onto the front porch after seeing the face behind the door. That was all we needed to see to know who it was. I glanced sideways towards Dexter and noticed his hands were balled into such tight fists on top of knees his knuckles had turned white.
“Christmas Day,” I heard him mutter under his breath. Then what sounded like one sharp laugh escaped his lips. “Christmas
fuckin’ Day.” He shook his head and inhaled one sharp breath before leaping from the couch.
“Dexter no!” I called after him, lunging after him to grab his arm but missing. “He’s not worth it!” I cried, afraid of what he might do to him. That man had driven Dexter to lengths I didn’t ever want him to feel the need to go to again. Seeing the pain he was causing Dexter all over again, a part of me couldn’t help wishing he’d succeeded the night he tried to shoot him. I know that’s wrong on so many levels, which is why I would never admit it out loud.
Yanking the door open so hard it slammed against the wall, Dexter froze when he met the eyes of his father.
“It’s Christmas. Couldn’t you give us that? Just one fuckin’ day?” he said. To my surprise he didn’t sound angry - he sounded resigned, wounded… He sounded broken.
I looked at Martin, Dexter’s father, with what I imagined was an expression of pure revulsion taking over my face. He was smartly dressed in crisp black slacks and a baby-blue shirt. The swelling around his nose created by Dexter’s fist last week had subsided a little but was still visible and slightly yellow. The ugliest part of him was his eyes. They were a similar shade of blue to Dexter’s, but where Dexter’s sparkle, his were dark – menacing. The way he narrowed them when he looked at any one of us sent shivers down my spine.
“No point delaying the inevitable, son.” Dexter literally flinched as the word ‘son’ pierced his ears. “This house is mine and I intend to sell it. Someone is coming to take photos the day after tomorrow and there’s a sign going up on Monday.”
“Martin you can’t…” Sarah began, shrinking back from him a little. Again, before I could grab him, Dexter leaped towards his father and gathered a fistful of his blue shirt in his hand.
“Like hell they are!” He growled just inches away from Martin’s face. “You stay the fuck away from me and my family or I swear to god I won’t be responsible for what happens to you!”
