by Abby Knox
Chapter 11
Mary
Almost as soon as we approach the trembling little camel calf, we notice she’s wearing a tiny bridle, and her reins are hanging loose.
The calf is frightened; too frightened to come with us on her own motivation. She’s lost and confused.
And then, out of the blinding snow, comes another figure. It looks like a man. Dressed in…a bathrobe?
The strange man approaches, and I have to yell to be heard over the noise of the pounding wind.
“My camel,” is all he says.
“Get in the truck!” Bear shouts over the din.
Moments later, the man in the robes is sitting next to me, with a baby camel on his lap.
Violet is in back, tucked in next to the baby and the family.
And where does that leave me?
Nowhere left to sit but on Bear’s lap.
Yep.
When we’re all settled in, into the weirdest assembly of passengers known to man on Christmas Eve night, I have to ask. I’m dying to know what’s going on here.
“So, spill it. What are you doing out here in a bathrobe with a baby camel?” I ask.
“We had to pack up the live nativity early. My wife stayed with the animal trailer. Essie, the baby here, bolted when the snow started falling. I’ve been looking for her for hours.”
“In a bathrobe?” I say.
“Well, I’ve got boots and snow pants under the robes. Look, the whole ensemble makes more sense when I’ve got my crown,” he says, putting out a hand. “Trey. Trey Wiseman.”
The man called Trey takes out his phone. “I’d better let the my wife know what happened to me.”
I fiddle with the heater to blow warm air directly onto Wiseman and his little camel.
She mewls meekly.
This night is getting weirder by the second.
The plow is scraping away at the snow and ice on the road in front of us.
We are inching along the road, and my phone’s GPS, which Bear has finally agreed to let me use, tells us we are about a mile from the hospital now.
Trey is petting his camel and speaking to her softly. Violet seems to be snoring in the back seat. The family with the baby is obviously enthralled with their little miracle.
And Bear has got one arm around my waist with his hand on the gear shift.
His other hand is on the steering wheel and I’m sitting across his lap with one arm around his shoulders.
My left breast is dangerously close to his sandy whiskers. I find my thoughts wandering, wishing I could feel those whiskers against my bare skin. My nipples turn into little pebbles beneath my sweater.
Bear’s strong jaw is rippling, like he’s angry. Or frustrated with something.
Under my legs, I can feel the large rod, all the way through his rough canvas snow pants.
If I’m not mistaken, I can hear a faint, guttural growl coming from the back of Bear’s throat.
I study his face and he looks like keeping his eyes on the road is literally causing him pain.
“You OK?” I ask in a low whisper.
He nods and says, “C’mere, I need to say something.”
I bend my ear close to his lips. His breath is warm and he’s so close I can feel his bristles brush the back of my jawbone and my throat.
“I got a powerful ache because of you. Before this night is over I'm gonna take you so damn hard.”
I bite my lip and try not to moan as I feel my sex contract in pleasure. His voice sends shivers down my neck, my sternum and has turned my nipples into taut little buds.
I dare to kiss him right at the back of his jaw, below his ear, and I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear, “Let me steer. You can do what you want with that hand. Nobody can see anything from this angle.”
He grunts, but quietly.
Bear lets go of the wheel and I put my hand on it, my eyes on the road, as much of it as I can make out, anyway.
Bear’s free hand glides up my thigh. My long, puffy coat is still on from the last time I hopped out of the truck, so nobody can see when his fingers reach the hottest area between my thighs.
The camel is mewling, people are talking and Violet is snoring, so nobody can hear Bear whisper raggedly as I steer. “Damn. You’re already wet for me under those jeans, aren’t you, weather girl?”
“Umm,” I say softly. I unzip my puffy coat all the way down to give Bear better access. “There’s only one way to find out, but so sorry, I can't unzip my jeans right now.”
He whispers back. “It’s all right. I’ve got one nipple in my face and one hand between your legs. That’s all I need to give my girl what she wants.’
I laugh and reply, “That would be a cute trick. But there’s no way.”
Bear raises one eyebrow and shoots me a look that makes my cheeks heat up. His fingers accept the challenge.
Chapter 12
Bear
I have to control myself unless I want every passenger, human and animal, in the car to hear me growl like an animal.
I can most definitely give my weather girl an orgasm by doing what I’m doing right now—stroking her pussy through her jeans with one hand and raking her nipple through her sweater with my teeth.
It sure as hell isn't going to ease the ache in my pants, but it’s hot as hell.
Little Bear is getting more urgent and angrier with me the more I play with the sultry female who's across my lap as if she's a rag doll serving at my pleasure.
I just can’t stop touching her.
And bless her and damn her for taking the wheel.
This is both insanely hot and sensual but also really goddamn frustrating.
It’s not fair, the more I scrape her and nip at the soft fabric that covers her tit, the harder my cock gets. She’s my little Christmas cookie, and the icing is in danger of ending up all over the inside of my pants.
Instead of where it belongs. On my weather girl.
Make that inside my weather girl.
My fingers work her over, and although I can’t feel her clit, I feel her very slightly rock her pelvis into me. She’s guiding her sweet spot into my rough, hard-working fingers.
At the same time, my head is dipping down, my mouth completely soaking the fabric of her sweater where her left breast is. I can nearly smell her ripe skin.
The sweater is taunting me. I ache to feel the skin underneath all these layers.
The surging desire to lay her down, spread her wide and have my way with her entirely naked body is overwhelming.
To feel her pussy. Is it shaved bare or not? Doesn’t bother me either way, as long as it’s mine.
To taste her there.
If it’s anything like the subtle scent of spices and figs on her skin, I'm going to enjoy ravishing her with my mouth.
And once I take her like that, I know I’m going to never let her leave.
She’s going to stay put and I’m going to devour her like that every night. Maybe every morning too. Maybe every afternoon.
Any minute of the day we’re together, is what I'm trying to say.
I whisper so nobody else can hear. “Have you ever tasted yourself? I bet it’s good.”
She’s biting her lip again. Shit, if she only knew what that does to me.
She doesn’t say anything but keeps her eyes on the road and shakes her head.
“Want me to stop talking like this?”
She shakes her head ever so slightly again,
My hand on her pussy moves more urgently, massaging her harder and in wide, pleasurable circles. I see her slightly flutter her eyes closed, though she's doing her best to keep her eyes on the road.
“You’re wetting yourself through your jeans, weather girl. It’s got my fingers even a little wet. Let’s have a taste.”
Her breath catches as I bring my fingers to my mouth and suck the ends.
“I was right,” I say. “My weather girl wants me bad.”
With that, I squeeze her mound asser
tively and take her protruding nipple into my mouth.
My girl loses control and grips the wheel with whitened knuckles. The fingers of her other hand are digging into my shoulder. She’s biting down hard on her lips so as not to make a sound, so hard her lips are turning white. Her eyes are closed and her hips have slammed into my hand. Her whole body shudders. She’s trying so hard to make no noise as the climax washes over her.
“Easy, baby. I got you. Let it out.”
She rides out the rest of her orgasm by pretending to sneeze and then laugh about it.
“Hoo, that was a big one!” she says aloud, for everyone else’s benefit.
There’s a chorus of “bless you”s, and when she’s satisfied nobody could tell what we just did, she relaxes back against my chest.
I smile and murmur again in her ear, “Just wait until I get you home. Won’t be no mistaking; Santa’s gonna come down the chimney while you’re screaming my name.”
Violet suddenly shouts from the back seat, “Santa Claus!”
Chapter 13
Mary
I register what’s happening in front of me.
Along the side of the road is a snowy, reddish shape coming out of a small truck that has skidded and tipped over onto its side. Struggling to extricate himself out through the driver side window is a man in a red suit. And it’s a good thing this man in red is not as portly as the Santa Claus we normally think of in the United States’ version of Saint Nicholas, but he’s still not exactly slim.
“Got room back there for one more, Violet?” Bear says. Bear doesn’t seem disturbed in the least by the scene playing out in front of us.
“Baby, if we ain’t got room for Santa Claus, we”re all waking up to coal in our stockings,” Violet says.
Well, as it turns out, not only can you not leave Santa by the side of the road, you also cannot leave his sack of presents behind.
This time, all of us hop out of the truck to help—all except the person who’s just delivered a baby on Christmas Eve.
Rescuing Santa from an overturned truck also feels a little bit like childbirth. The driver side door is stuck, but luckily the old truck had a hand-crank window that allowed him to get himself halfway out.
What happens next is not unlike Rabbit pulling Winnie the Pooh out of his cave. Bear has hold of one arm, Jacob the other, while Violet and Wiseman and I work to help him shimmy out his middle section through the window.
The snowflakes and freezing rain are pelting my face and I can barely see what I’m doing. But eventually we get the fat man out of the truck and safely inside the cab of the tow truck and we’re assessing his injuries.
“Thank you everyone,” he says, feeling a little sheepish as I’m examining his fingers, his face. Violet is handing over the last available blanket and sweaters to cover him. “But I’m just fine. If you could just drop me off downtown next to the convention center, I’m supposed to make an appearance at the Potter Finance Christmas party tonight. I have a bag full of new game systems for all those kids.”
I shake my head, “No way, Santa. We gotta get you to the hospital and get you checked out for frostbite.”
Bear grunts out some cuss words about Potter Finance. “I think the slumlords and their kids are already getting plenty of presents from Santa this year,” he says.
So, to recap, in the back seat we have baby Mary-Violet, Liz, Jacob, Violet and the sack of toys. In the front seat, Trey Wiseman with a baby camel on his lap, me on Bear’s lap, and Santa Claus in the middle. This time, I’m facing the other direction, my back against the window, to make more room for Santa’s “man-spread.” I’ll just say that it’s a good thing I’m small. And it’s a good thing Santa knows how to drive a stick, or else Bear would have to reach between Santa’s knees to shift.
I have never been so happy to see a hospital in my entire life.
Violet has phoned the emergency room and told them we’re bringing a fresh new baby and mama to the ER, a camel with PTSD, and a Santa Claus with possible frostbite who was banged up in a car wreck.
Bear’s plow clears a path all the way to the doors of the ER, where nurses are waiting in the vestibule with a wheelchair.
Santa also disembarks with his bag of toys and so does Violet, after we help Liz and Jacob out.
“Don’t you all want me to bring you home? You'll be stuck here for the night,” Bear says.
But Santa and Violet are busily talking to the nursing staff as the OB nurses wheel Liz and baby Mary-Violet away.
Santa comes out and explains that he and Violet are going to stay and pass out some game systems to some very sick kids in the children’s wing tonight.
Before she leaves, Violet presses a business card into my palm and winks.
“Just promise me, when you two hotties do get married, let me do the wedding. I not only sing, but I’m an ordained officiant.”
“Where you goin’?” Bear asks with a crooked smile when I pile back into his truck and buckle into the passenger side.
I blink at him like he’s lost his mind.
“Nowhere. I’m buckling in to the passenger seat, just like my mama taught me to do.”
“Fuck that seat belt and get back on my lap,” he growls.
I sigh at him.
“Look around you, Bear. There’s nobody else in the truck. I don't need to sit on your lap,” I say, getting a little exasperated with him.
“You do if I’m gonna get my hands down those pants before I get you home,” he says, breathing hard. He’s dead serious.
But so am I, about safety.
“Listen, Bear. I’m going to buckle up, and then when we get to your house safely and in one piece, you can do whatever you want to my pants. But I’m not sitting on your lap. I did so out of necessity, but that’s it.”
Bear throws the truck into gear and peels out back onto the highway. He’s driving way too fast for the weather conditions, and I tell him so.
“Dammit, woman, I gotta get you home before my Little Bear rips a hole in my snow pants,” he says.
I lean in and trace my hand up his leg. “That’d be a damn shame. Wouldn’t want Little Bear getting frost bitten.” She peels off her coat and resumes fondling my thigh.
“I can think of a way for you to keep it warm, weather girl,” he bites out.
I click my tongue. “While you’re driving though?”
“Woman,” he says through gritted teeth. “I live for this weather. There is exactly zero chance of you causing an accident.”
I slide my hand over his groin and I can feel that rod twitching in response to me. “Then there’s no reason you can’t just pull over.”
He sighs roughly and reaches over to me, resting his palm on the side of my breast. “Got too many layers on to make that happen in here, baby girl.”
He looks over at me and I give him a pout. “Come on, Bear. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”
Chapter 14
Bear
We are less than a quarter of a mile from my house now.
I can’t let her just take the reins. Not when I haven’t even properly kissed her yet.
Call me a control freak. But I want to have my way with her first. Need to. Have to.
I let her unbuckle and slide over to me, unzip my coat and unzip the fly in my overalls. She gasps when she sees another layer underneath—long johns.
She’s struggling to tug away at all the layers and I can’t help but snicker playfully.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“You really think this is going to play out this way? I can’t let you do that when I haven’t even tasted those lips yet.”
She starts to reply, “But I thought—”
My mouth cuts her off, showing her who’s really in control.
At least, that’s the plan.
But once I get a taste of her, my control goes right out the window and into a snow drift.
The touch of Mary’s velvety lips have me completely undone. They make me fe
el things I’ve never felt before. She tastes like candy canes and feels like heated slippers on a cold, ugly morning.
It’s all over. She’s the one. I found her.
I curse through our joined lips. Mary pulls back and asks me what’s wrong.
I cup her face and her eyes are full of self-consciousness. As if anything she could do with that mouth could be wrong.
“Nothing is wrong in my world, weather girl,” I say. “I just realized something.”
She smiles hesitantly, her eyes glancing between my mouth and my eyes, like she can’t wait to get back to kissing me.
“My mom was right about you. She’s been telling me to ask you out for ages,” I say.
Mary arcs a sultry eyebrow and says, “Always listen to your mother.”
Our lips meet again, and my hands are still cupping her chin while hers rest on my thigh. I’m getting hungrier for her, and when my tongue slips past her lips she lets out a little moan. Her fingers grip my thigh tightly. My arms press her close to me. Her hands explore a little higher on my thighs.
Keeping one eye on the road while navigating all these layers of clothing are becoming extremely problematic. My hand smooths around to her sides and up. I caress her breastbone, exposed by the V of her sweater. I feel the gooseflesh there rise to meet me. I take it a little farther and tug at the V, exposing one breast covered in a red satiny bra. Her large breast is close to spilling out of it. The blood rushing to my cock is now headed there at warp speed. At the same time, her hands are peeling back the layers under the zipper of my work overalls and my long johns. She is a determined little thing.
I blaze a trail of warm, slow kisses down her neck and over her exposed collar bone and land my lips at the top of her breast. She is the softest thing I’ve ever touched and I feel as though I never want to touch anyone or anything else, ever again.
“Got it,” she sighs. She’s talking about my cock, of course. She’s finally struck gold under all those layers of fabric. Mary’s grip barely fits around the girth of my shaft. The sensation of her hand around me like that, like she’s found herself a precious treasure, sends me through the roof.
