He opened the box. Inside was a thick brown band and a white-gold plated watch face.
“Mia, it’s incredible. Definitely something I’ll wear…” he gushed.
“Turn it over,” I urged.
On the back in a fancy script were two lines.
Because you remembered me…
I’m yours. Mia
He swallowed so slowly I wasn’t sure how to take it. “There’s only one gift I’ve been given that’s better than this.” He inhaled and lifted his head. His eyes were soft and bursting with joy. “The gift of your love.”
I smiled and kissed him again.
* * *
Much later that evening, I opened the bathroom door dressed in Wes’s last Christmas present. My breasts were trussed up in a red velvet push up bra with white fluffy trim. The bottoms were a miniscule skirt with matching fur trim that didn’t even fully cover my ass cheeks. On my legs, I’d slid a pair of red stockings and stepped into black patent leather sky-high stilettos. These were not shoes to be walked in. They were shoes to be fucked in. My hair was a mass of ebony curls down my back, tickling against the twin dips just above my ass. I’d pinned on a matching Santa hat to complete the look.
Leaning against the bathroom doorjamb, the light behind me shined onto the bed. Wes lay there completely naked, dick already hard and weeping at the wide crown. Fuck! I wanted to lick him from root to tip and back down. Take him within my body and show him how much today had meant to me. How much he’d changed my life for the better. Make him feel it with every thrust, every kiss, every touch the way I felt it right down to my marrow.
Holding on to my sanity, I laid my hand above my head and arched my back provocatively. “Have you been naughty or nice this year, little boy?” I lowered my voice, making sure he heard the edge of desire thick within each word.
He gasped at the sight of me. “Fucking, hell.”
“Sooooo…naughty then?” I smirked.
He held his arms out and clenched his hands into fists, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Both! Now get over here and let me unwrap my present!” he growled while moving one hand to fist his thick cock. I wanted to get on my knees and crawl to him, so I did just that. He lost his mind…and then I lost mine.
Turned out, my guy was definitely naughty, but oh, so nice.
Chapter Ten
My Dearest Mia,
I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls this past month. I don’t want my problems to affect your life any more than they already have.
Mia, I’m a broken man. I knew I had a drinking problem before. Understood that the route I was going was unhealthy and could possibly end up killing me. This time last year, I didn’t care one way or the other. I’d already lost your mother. Lost you girls by pushing you away. Ending it all would have been simple. I know now that was the easy way out.
You and Madison should have never had to deal with what I put you through. The thought of you working for Millie to save me, pay my debts, makes my skin crawl. I never want to be that kind of burden on you or your sister again. So for now, I’m taking the time I need to figure out what I need to do. How or if I can even change.
I’ll be in touch when I figure it out. Live your life for you now. Don’t worry about me. I’d ask you to keep an eye out for your sister, but that’s a stupid request. You’ve been a better parent to her than her mother or I ever were.
Mia, I hope this man and your life in California makes you happy. I want that for you. Happiness. You, more than any other, deserve a happy ending.
I love you more than you’ll ever know.
Your Pops
Tears fell down my face as I re-read the letter I’d received a couple days ago. So many conflicted feelings pecked at my mind like so much noise. How did I turn it off? After years of taking care of Pops, I was just supposed to stop caring? Forget that I have a father?
Maybe that was the grand idea. It was definitely what he’d stated in his letter. To live my life. Carry on without worrying about him. Last time I did that, the man ended up a million dollars in debt and my ass was in my Aunt Millie’s office selling my companionship to the highest bidder. I wasn’t that girl any more. I couldn’t be that girl ever again.
Tomorrow, I would marry Weston Charles Channing, the third. There would no longer be a Mia Saunders. In her place would be a married woman. A better woman, because I’d have the strength of Wes’s love by my side in all things. Including, how I will deal with my father in the future.
The more I thought about his words, the angrier I got. How dare he write me off! The Dear John letter was quite comical, but rather fitting, since I’d used the exact modus operandi with most of my clients. Guess I learned that passive trait from dear old Dad.
It still irked me. Tomorrow, I was getting married. I knew traveling would be difficult, but I’d expected him to the make the effort. Wes was going to send a private plane to bring him, pay his nurses to help him along the journey just so I could have my father at my wedding. This was one single day of my life that I needed him present. Needed him to care more about me than himself. I wanted him to live for me for one blessed day out of my entire existence, and he couldn’t do it. He knew I was getting married January first. We’d discussed the concerns that he might not be ready to travel so soon after his hospital stay. He’d sworn up and down that nothing would prevent him from seeing his daughter get married. And then I received the letter.
I glanced out over the expanse of the ocean from our bedroom balcony. People were milling about on the flatter part of the beach, prepping some things for tomorrow’s event. A raised wooden platform and gazebo had been crafted. It was on part of the private beach that Wes owned so we’d created a stone pathway to it. Tomorrow, seasonal flowers would fill the area that would serve as the location of our small private ceremony. In the future, we’d put a bench under it where we could sit and take in the ocean’s unblemished view straight from the source.
“Hey biznacho, whatcha doing?”
I jumped up from my seat. “Jesus! Maybe announce your presence next time, will ya?
Ginelle plopped down into the seat opposite mine. She promptly put her feet up on the railing. “Why are you so jumpy?” She tilted her aviator glasses down so she could look at me over the rims. “Cold feet?”
I smirked and leaned back. “Girl, my feet are as toasty as can be in my Ugg boots.”
Ginelle scowled. “Ugg boots are ugly. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that? That’s why they call them “Ugg”. They should have named them FUGG boots because they are fucking ugly. Who wants to walk around looking like they are about to trudge through a couple feet of snow?” She pushed her blond hair back. “I don’t get the appeal.”
“Me, that’s who!” I raised my foot to the railing and inspected my boots. They were pretty ugly. If they weren’t so damn comfortable, I’d have nixed them. Alas, the second I put my feet into them and saw the light, or I should say, felt the light—like walking on fluffy clouds of awesome—I was done for.
“So you gonna tell me what put that look on your face? When I came out here, you looked like you smelled dog shit and couldn’t find the source.”
Sighing, I handed her the letter.
She grabbed it and scanned it. Her lips curled in and turned a startling white as she read. “Selfish motherfucker.” Her voice rose an octave. “I cannot believe he did this to you right before your wedding. After everything…” She shook her head. “That’s it. I’m gonna kill him myself. He doesn’t get to fuck over my best friend after what you’ve sacrificed.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “You know what? I’m gonna call him. Tell him that he’s a spineless, no good—”
I cut her off with a hand on her wrist. “It won’t help. If anything, it will make him feel worse and ensure he goes back to drinking away his problems. I figure he’s going to anyway. The tone of this letter doesn’t leave me much trust in the outcome. But you know what, Gin?”
She huffed and sat back
down.
“I can’t care anymore. I’m done. Sure, I’ll always love my father. He’s my dad. No amount of good deeds he could do now, or crap he could sling at me, is ever going to change that. I don’t have the space within my heart right now to let it bring me down, just like with my mother. Does it hurt? Fuck, yeah, it hurts. Bad. But tomorrow is a new day.” I thought about Wes’s smile, the way he touched me, looked at me with adoration. “He makes everything beautiful. Even me. I’m going to focus on that and live my life bathing in the beauty that is Wes and sharing our life together.”
Gin nodded. “First and foremost, you’ve always been beautiful. Drop dead frickin’ gorgeous. Second, I feel ya. Don’t understand it, because I want to knee the old man in the balls, but I see that this is what you need to do to move on. It’s time. Besides, we’re all moving on.” She cast her glance off into the distance where the sea was pushing wave after wave onto a pristine beach.
I had this view to soak up every day. I was damn lucky and needed to stop my pity party for one and start appreciating all the things I had. However, first, there was something about what Ginelle said that needed addressing.
“Should I gather from that statement that you are moving on…as in to Hawaii?”
She smiled sadly. “No, no I’m not. I’m going to stick it out here for a while. If you guys don’t mind me hanging out in the guest house.”
“Not at all. Stay as long as you like. Stay forever. I already told you that I want you here. Need it. If I’m going to settle down, I need my best friend. I will say that I’m a little surprised though. You and Tao have been hitting it off, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, he’s everything I could ever want in a man. Only he doesn’t want me. Well…” She grinned sardonically, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He wants parts of me.”
I smacked her bicep. “All joking aside. What do you mean?”
Ginelle shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive move if ever I saw one. “He likes spending time with me, joking around, and the fucking is phenomenal…”
“All sounds perfect,” I interrupted, not wanting her to start giving details. When it came to sex, my BFF was not shy. Not at all. She enjoyed sharing all the nitty gritty details, and sometimes I wanted to hear them, but not the night before my wedding. There had to be something sacred about that.
She tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. “He wants a wife and a mother for his future babies. A woman he can take care of, not a woman who wants to work. I’ve spent years honing my craft. I have some serious good years left dancing before I have to give it up. And after that, I’d always dreamed of maybe opening up a dance studio for little ones. Then if I was to rock the mamahood card, I could do so at my discretion. I could have a studio and my kids with me. My dance teacher all those years ago did. Had her babies in a playpen while she taught a class. She might have charged less for classes since there could be an interruption now and again, but for the most part, it was cool. I grew up with those kids, danced with them in recitals later on in life. Is it too much to want that for myself?”
Her eyes narrowed as she put her elbows on her knees and plopped her head into her hands.
“No, it’s not too much to ask. If it’s your dream, you have to fight for it, unless another opportunity you want more presents itself. Did you talk to Tao about what you were planning for yourself?”
She sighed. “Yeah, and he said that no woman of his was going to work unless it was with the family act.”
“Well, they’re dancers, you could maybe…”
She rolled her eyes and looked at me as though I’d just claimed Brad Pitt was at the front door ready to offer his baby making services.
“Right.” I let out a slow breath. “Not exactly your style of dancing.”
Ginelle cringed. “Nope.”
“But…Tao is your kind of man. Is he worth giving that dream up for another one?”
After closing her eyes, she sucked in a long breath. “Am I awful if I say no, he’s not? At least, not right now, when I’m only twenty-five. In another couple years, I might think differently. But by then…”
“He’ll have moved on. No, I get it. So was it a clean break?”
She huffed and sat back. “Not even close. Though I’m hopeful he’ll get the message.”
I laughed. “You mean before he gets back on a plane and hunts your tiny ass down?”
One of her arms flung out, pointing at my nose. “Bingo! Winner winner…she makes dinner.”
I groaned. “It’s my last night as a single lady.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault he liked it so much he put a ring on it! That’s all you. Now get up woman and get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich.”
There was a ton of force in her hand as she jerked me to a standing position.
“And no more worrying about this garbage. The next twenty-four hours are going to be the happiest of your life, and as maid of honor, I’m going to make sure of it.” She crumpled my father’s letter into a ball and tossed it over her shoulder and off the balcony. I didn’t even look to see where it landed.
“You realize that Maddy is my maid of honor, right?” I responded.
She held her hands up to her ears. “La la la la laaaaaa la la la la laaaaaaa.”
Eh, I figured Maddy could set her straight.
* * *
The covers moved back so slowly I wouldn’t have noticed if a knee shifting the mattress hadn’t accompanied it. I inhaled slowly, keeping my breathing even so he wouldn’t know I was awake. The scent of my man and the ocean hit my senses, sending a bout of lust and desire rushing through my body. Still, I feigned sleep, more interested in knowing how he planned to work this surprise attack than announcing I knew he was there.
Something cool, but not cold, touched the nape of my neck and slid down in a slow caress over every bump in my spine. I couldn’t help the shiver that followed.
“I know you’re awake, sweetheart.” Wes growled and then bit down on my ass cheek through my simple cotton briefs. I hadn’t expected my fiancée the night before our wedding, because we’d agreed not to see one another the night before, as was tradition with normal bride/groom scenarios. Usually, I wasn’t one for tradition, but it sounded sweet when Claire Channing had requested it.
And here my guy was, breaking the rules.
“We haven’t even gotten married yet, and you’re already breaking tradition?”
His fingers slipped into the sides of my panties and tugged them down my legs. I remained on my belly, face to the side waiting for his next move. If he was going to break the rules, he was going to do all the work. Then I could claim I was just a helpless victim and not the instigator.
“Like you care.” He scoffed and rubbed that cool item over my naked bum before pushed it between my thighs.
“Oh!” I jumped as the sensation carried over my slit. The item disappeared and all that I was left with was a tingling need between my thighs and the sound of Wes inhaling deeply.
“Roses mixed with the honey between your thighs. Babe, you’ve got me salivating,” he said on a groan.
I shifted on a hip and turned around. Wes was rubbing a blood red rose under his nose. The moment our gazes caught, he stuck out his tongue and licked the edge of the rose. My mouth opened, imagining what he tasted on that flower.
“Delicious, but not enough.” His throat moved, and his eyes burned hotter than fire.
I watched as he straddled me. I was wearing nothing but a white ribbed tank, since he’d divested me of my panties.
“Wes, you’re not supposed to be here,” I warned half-heartedly. Ribbons of heat prickled against my womb and spread out, coating my thighs with need even as I spoke.
Based on the way Wes was looking at me, as if I was the fountain of youth and he was dying of thirst, he did not intend to be anywhere other than rooting his thick cock deep and staying long enough to find his bliss. I knew it, and he knew it. Why the hell was I fighting it
?
Oh, right. His mother. The suggestion she’d made, that the trick to the start of a good marriage was to abstain the night before your wedding. Not to see the bride before she walked down the aisle. There were a handful of stupid superstitious she’d spouted that all sounded good at the time. Faced with a man who looked like Wes wanting to do what he wanted to do to me, things that would make me sing out his praises and reacquaint myself with the almighty above…those superstitions sounded more and more like folklore the longer his gaze held mine.
There was a fierceness in Wes’s body as he hovered over me. Clad only in his boxers and a T-Shirt, he lifted one strong arm and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the iron chest for my viewing pleasure. Not the chest. No, not that. I couldn’t win against the endless dips and lickable expanse of skin in front of me. It wasn’t possible. I’d traveled that road before. It was rocky, jagged, and filled with spikes that blew out my proverbial tires. Once I set my lips on that chest, on one single rock hard square of his abdomen…game fucking over.
You have the will of a warrior, I reminded myself. I’d heard the phase on a commercial, or something I’d watched on TV, and repeated it over and over.
“Are you going to deny me what’s mine?” Wes said, placing both of his hands at the top of my tank. His fingers curled into the fabric, and with one quick rip, he shredded the cotton right down the center.
Holy Fuck. You have the will of a warrior.
He leaned forward as I shook my head no. Words were not forthcoming. His warm mouth wrapped around one tight peak before he sucked long and so damn hard.
You have the will of a warrior. “Wes…” I heard myself whisper.
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave.” He lavished first one nipple and then the other with rough laps of his tongue and small nibbles of his teeth. While he tortured one tit, he plucked, rubbed, and twisted its mate until my hips were moving of their own accord. Seeking, reaching, trying to find something to relieve the extraordinary ache he’d started.
Calendar Girl 12 - December Page 11
