by Skye Warren
My eyes close and my thighs clench. I sigh into his mouth and let him hook his thumbs into the pockets of my jeans and drag them down before I hear a voice that breaks the spell immediately.
“Mommy?”
I push Fab away, slamming my fists into his chest. He glances at Easton, frowning. My heart stops in my chest. This is too much; two worlds colliding, and I don’t like it. Our fantasies should never be allowed to invade our reality. Fab crouches down slowly, his eyes leveling with Easton’s.
“Merry Christmas, buddy.” He drinks my son in, studying him.
“Who are you?” Easton slams an imaginary door in Fabio’s face, and I can’t help but snicker.
“I’m your Mommy’s friend.” Fab lifts one eyebrow, silently asking me if he got it right. I offer a small nod. Yup, he’s my son, all right. “Actually, I’m a special friend of hers. And she called me because she wanted me to give you a present. Whatever you want.”
“I want a bike,” my son states without blinking. Too bad it was way over my budget this year.
“Then that’s what you will get.”
“All the stores are closed,” Easton frowns at Fabio.
“Not for us, they’re not. Saddle up, buddy. We’re going to get you your bike.”
After a half-hour walk, I know a few things about Fabio Ricci I wasn’t privy to before we screwed each other’s brains out. First, he might be lonely, but he’s got friends everywhere. All it took is two phone calls, and one of the biggest toy chain stores in the country opened especially for us, so Fab could buy Easton his new bike. At first, I wanted to object, but frankly, my pride and morals lost the battle to my need to give Easton what he wants.
Next, he’s good with kids. Like, really good with kids. Easton and Fabio have been talking about everything, from TV and zoos to food while we walked quietly through the snowy, silent streets of my town until we made it to the store.
Finally, he should have been in Memphis three hours ago.
“You have a concert there?” I swallow, feeling guilty all of a sudden. Why did he even come here in the first place? The only reason I allowed myself to have one night of pleasure with him was because I felt sorry for myself, it being Christmas Eve and all, but I didn’t expect a repeat. Fabio shrugs, his gorgeous black hair tousling even more by the wind. He is giving Easton a piggyback ride home while I wheel his new bike in the snow. I don’t have a car and neither does Fabio, who usually lives in New York. And there is no way in hell to get a taxi on Christmas Day in my sleepy town.
“Not today, but on New Year’s Eve. We were supposed to do a sound check and everything, because the venue is big. But whatever, fuck it.”
“Language,” I warn, and Easton barely stifles his giggle, tugging at Fabio’s hair to walk faster.
“Spending time here is a priority,” Fab explains, his cheeks stinging pink.
“But why?” I whisper.
“Because you matter to me. Don’t ask me why, I’m not sure what’s happening, but you matter.”
We spend the next few hours tiring Easton out by teaching him how to ride the new bike in the living room. Then we tuck him into bed and I turn off the light. After I close the door to his room softly, I walk over to the living room and motion for Fab to follow me to my bedroom. He bolts up from the couch. But he’s not going to like what I have to say to him privately. I can’t risk Easton walking in on us in the living room.
We both sit on the edge of my small, queen-sized bed and I clutch my thighs tightly with my hands. I’m going to break up with my fantasy.
I can’t look at his face, not when I’m doing what I’m about to do.
“You need to leave and never come back,” I say. He frowns again, and that’s when I see his eyes sparkle with a challenge. No alpha male likes to be shut down like this. Least of all someone like Fabio Ricci, who sees more pussy than a certified vet.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“This”—I motion between us by waving my hand—“this is bad. We had sex without a condom yesterday. So many times. I need to be checked for STDs…”
“I don’t have any STDs, who the hell do you think I am?” He cuts through my sentence. “You think I go around screwing people without wrapping up? You were an exception, Hannah. You are an exception. That’s why I’m here and not in Memphis.”
“I wish you wouldn’t be.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. God, this is hard. Letting him go. Seeing him leave. But I have no choice. I’m selfish. And it’s too cruel to let myself love him, get close to him, just to see my heart shatter. “Look, our lives are too different. You’re living in New York, I live here. You’re a rock star and a bachelor, I’m a mother who works double shifts to pay rent. It would never work between us.”
Fabio grabs the back of my neck and jerks me into his face, our noses pressing together. His green eyes are narrow and wild and they stir something so strong in me, I momentarily forget where I am. “Newsflash, baby girl. It’s working between us right fucking now. I’m not going anywhere until I figure this out—whatever this is—and we’re figuring it out together. In bed.”
And just like that, his mouth is on mine again, he’s on top of me, pressing his whole body weight against me as we both sink to my mattress, and my resolve to let him go vanishes. His cock is hard and hot, even through his jeans, and it is pressing against my thigh. He grinds against me and I capture his lower lip, biting softly then lick his pain away. My hands travel down his muscular back and trace the tattoos I know by heart from staring at pictures of him for hours. I open my legs for him and he kisses his way down my body, stopping near my belly button to grin up at me. My heart nearly explodes when our eyes meet.
“You’re using a condom this time,” I whisper and he nods.
“I will. But you can put a fucking tank between us, baby girl. Just because I’ll fuck you with rubber on doesn’t mean I won’t dig my way into your heart.”
He undresses me like I’m a delicate doll, after which he gets up to rest on his knees and inspect me through hooded eyes. My rock star. My idol. My lover.
“Incredibly beautiful.” He ducks down to bite my neck. “Extremely irresistible.” His lips brush mine. They’re warm and welcoming and they scare the hell out of me. “And all. Fucking. Mine.”
He moves inside me slowly. Not like yesterday. And I’m glad he is wearing a condom. I don’t know if Plan B works beforehand. This time, it doesn’t feel like a one-night stand when he flings my knees over his shoulders and slides in and out of me, deeper and deeper, his eyes focused on mine. He isn’t drunk either. We’re both alert and perceptive.
Of how our bodies are drawn to one another like black magic.
Of how this is turning into something real, way too fast.
Of how our real Christmas present can be unexpectedly special.
He comes inside me and we moan into each other’s mouths, but my mind is too full of wonderful hope and crisp, new fantasies to concentrate on my building orgasm. Fabio gets that. So after he is done, he flips me so I’m on my stomach, straddles my ass and snakes his hand under my stomach, circling my clit and fingering me while grinding his cock between my ass cheeks. He plays me like an instrument until I burst with one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had.
“Thanks, Fab,” I groan into my pillow on a sleepy smile.
“Call me Fabio. You’re not a fan. Not anymore.”
“What am I then?”
“You’re mine.”
Chapter 6
Fabio
Mick Jagger once said, "Sometimes an orgasm is better than being on stage and sometimes being on stage is better than an orgasm." I never quite understood what he’d meant. To me, orgasms came second. Always. I love pussy. Hell, if fucking was an Olympic sport, Michael Phelps would be my bitch. But nothing makes me higher than being on stage, drinking all the love they give me.
Until her.
Until Hannah, who is quickly becoming my home.
It’s been three weeks since we started seeing each other, and I can’t figure out how I ever lived without her. Two days after we first met, I dragged her fine little ass on a plane with me to Memphis with Easton in tow. He was cool for the most part. Freaked out when the plane took off but was totally cheery when we got to the hotel and tucked him in with a sitter we hired from an agency and slipped to the next room for some fun. And by saying “some fun” I mean “fucking until we had to put aloe on one another head-to-toe”. Now I know what you must be thinking. You don’t buy into that insta-love crap. But let me tell you one thing about Hannah Stevens.
I always knew her.
Before I started writing about having sex with random chicks and my love for booze and drugs, I wrote about love. The real deal. People didn’t want to listen to it, because…well, because it wasn’t genuine. I was never in love and it showed. Showed in my lyrics and showed in my lack of connection to the songs. Truth of the matter was, I was a fucker who banged everyone with a cunt. So I wrote about that.
People loved it.
But I always imagined the girl that’d sweep me off my feet and inspire me to write about love. The type of album that’d put me up there with Coldplay and U2 and the big names. I didn’t know what she’d look like, and I certainly didn’t know she’d come to me in a hotel uniform and with a sassy little mouth, but when I met her, I knew.
I now know.
“On your knees, baby girl,” I whisper in her ear from behind and she leans down. I lower my body to her neck and kiss my way down her spine, leaving shivers on her skin every time I dart my tongue for a taste. I kiss both her sweet ass cheeks before slipping my tongue into her warm pussy and giving a thorough lick.
“Hmm. My favorite,” I growl. I love Memphis; it’s better than New York. But I know that soon enough, I’ll have to go back home to write and record our new album. And I’m not leaving without my girl.
“I’m coming,” she pants, her pussy tightening around my tongue. I smile as I continue to give her pleasure, feeling her thighs quivering against my face. Fuck yes, you are, Hannah.
After she crashes down and we both collapse into bed, I hold her close and feel her heart beat with mine. I want to make them the soundtrack of my life, no matter where we’ll be.
“I need to go back home this weekend,” I murmur into her neck and feel her tensing beside me. I brush the tips of my fingers over her arm, kissing my way to her collarbone.
“Okay.” Hannah says carefully. “I mean, I could visit you this summer, maybe. If you’re still interested in seeing Easton and I….”
“No, thanks,” I say.
“Oh.” She scoots up, resting her back against the headboard. “Well, then I guess—”
“—I’m coming to live with you,” I interrupt and state with conviction.
“Good luck with the…Uh, what?”
I repeat my words, my smile widening. I figured I can at least write the album wherever I feel like. It will give us more time together. More fucking. More dinners—no cauliflower soup for us, though. I am apparently banned from having it ever again as long as we’re together—and more worming my way into Easton’s heart.
“What will your bandmates say?” Hannah scrunches her little nose.
“Good riddance, I guess. I’m a bitter fuck when I write. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“You know, it’s actually not such a bad idea. I’ll have someone to look after Easton when I work double shifts.”
“You’re not gonna work double shifts. You’re not gonna work at all. I can take care of us.” I scoop her back into my arms, but she wiggles free and laughs.
“Easy there, boy. I will always hold a job.”
“Even when I put a baby in you?” I arch an eyebrow. She swats my arm but blushes. Cute.
“You’re not putting a baby in me anytime soon, Mister.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that.”
Epilogue
Hannah
He put a baby in me.
Before you judge me, let me just say that it’s been two years since we had this talk. Two years where I stopped being White Noise’s fan and became White Noise’s assistant to the manager. Our work took us all over the states, and after WN released their last album, Christmas Gave Me Love, and won a Grammy award, we’ve been traveling outside of the states too. That left Bradley and Ruth bitter about not seeing Easton as much, so I asked Fabio if we could take a year off to remind Easton that everything is just the same. But it isn’t. Everything is changing for the best.
“I’ll take a year off if you promise we’ll try for a baby. You know how much I fucking love Easton, Hannah. He deserves a baby brother or sister. He deserves the whole freaking deal,” he argued when he pounded into me, stretching my insides with his big dick. I bit his shoulder and laughed, and he slammed harder, almost splitting me in two with the strength of his thrusts into me.
Three weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. This time, I didn’t freak out. I didn’t run to Walgreens and purchased a day-after pill. I didn’t check for STDs.
A month after we broke the news to Easton, Bradley and Ruth announced they were having a baby too. Now, I am six months pregnant with Easton’s baby sister, and Ruth has a daughter on the way too. We moved to a new house, bigger, but nowhere near extravagant, and I get to spend my time with my favorite boys – my son and my boyfriend.
“Easton, buddy, what are you doing?” I hear Fabio asking my son—our son, actually. Bradley is cool about letting East call both him and Fabio ‘daddy’—while I sprinkle grated cheese over a salad. It’s thanksgiving, and I have a lot to be thankful for.
For Easton.
For Bradley cheating on me with Ruth and making me single, forcing me to fend for myself.
And for Fabio, the man who not only turned out to be my fantasy, but also my sweet, perfect reality.
“Hey, Hannah, where’re your utensils? I’ll start setting the table in the meantime,” Ruth appears in the kitchen. We’re as huge as the other. I point at one of the top drawers and giggle as we both keep it silent to hear the conversation in the living room.
“I’m building a castle from Legos. Wanna help me?”
“Yes!” we hear Bradley and Fabio say in unison and snicker. Lego parts drop to the carpeted floor, Bradley is asking what to do and Fabio is taking orders from a very bossy Easton, before Fab says, “You know your life is going to change when you become a big brother, right?”
“Change how?” East seems reluctant to hear the answer. I don’t blame him. He’s been through a lot of changes recently, and even though he’s a bright boy and will soon go to pre-school, he needs more time to adjust. From having a small, broken family, he moved to having a huge one, soon-to-be full of newborns.
“You’ll have more responsibility,” Bradley says.
“And you’ll have to help your mommies when they ask you to do something,” Fabio adds.
“And girls can be real emotional and cranky,” Bradley sighs.
“But in the end, they’re the best thing that’s happened to you,” Fabio finishes softly.
That’s our cue to come out of the kitchen, both Ruth and I, armed with raised eyebrows and skeptic smiles.
“Would you stop scaring the boy?” I ask, and Fabio stands up to his full height and saunters over to me, placing a kiss on my belly.
“Never. How else would I spend my thanksgiving?”
“How about being thankful for everything we have?” His dimples melt my stern smile, and it’s replaced with a genuine one. The one I save only for him and Easton. “Our lives are perfect now.”
“Not perfect,” Fabio disagrees, getting in my face and growling like he does when we’re in bed. My lady parts tingle for him, just like they did even before we met.
“No?” I ask.
“No.” Then, without further notice, he drops to one knee and tucks one hand into the pocket of his jeans. I cup my mouth with my hand, blinking away the sting of tears in my eyes. F
abio takes out a small, red velvet box and opens it in front of me. Inside, is an engagement ring with a diamond so big I can use it as a vase if I wanted to; it’s huge. And it sparkles like our love. In a way that cannot be ignored.
“I want to marry the fuck out of you, Hannah Stevens. Would you be mine forever?”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly, and he jumps up even before he slips the ring onto my finger, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and kissing me hard, an open, sexy kiss. A kiss that doesn’t belong in a living room full of people.
“Gross,” Easton snaps from his corner of the room. Bradley and Ruth giggle.
“And to think that it all started with me wanting to spit in your soup,” I say after our lips disconnect and our daughter kicks me in the ribs, bringing me back to reality.
“No, baby girl,” Fabio says. “It all started with you falling in love with a part of me, and me falling in love with all of you.”
THE END
Subscribe to LJ Shen’s newsletter
Visit LJ Shen on Facebook
Part VI
Naughty or Nice? by M Never
Naughty or Nice? A Very Merry Decadence Christmas by M Never
Ellie
“They’re conspiring,” London whispers subtly as she brushes by me.
I know who she’s talking about immediately. I scan the upscale party room decorated with eight-foot, twinkling Christmas trees, handmade burlap candy canes, gold silk drapery, and an abundance of candlelight to locate our husbands.
I find Kayne and Jett secluded at the end of the long, high-polished oak bar. At first glance, they appear like they’re conversing casually, but London’s right -- they are conspiring. I recognize the shifty signs, the cunning look in both their eyes and the mischievous smile they both share.
