by Skye Warren
The combination of London’s firm strokes against my clit and the endless strikes of Kayne’s cock has me seeing spots.
“I feel you, kitten. I feel how fucking tight you’re squeezing me.” I can only moan in a detached response as I suck on London’s hard little cherry.
“Come all over her face, Ellie,” Jett heaves, his shaft glistening with London’s arousal. “She loves it. She loves how you taste. She loves when you eat her out and I fuck her at the same time. It's her favorite way to come.”
Well, damn. Jett’s graphic words ratchet up my prickly need. I'm conditioned to ask permission, whether I need to or not. So as soon as I'm afforded the green light, I let go. I plummet down the rabbit hole as my insides tear apart. It's a beautiful suffering— blissful fit—as I'm forced to come by two of the people I love most in the world.
My climax sets off a chain reaction, London detonating several seconds after me.
“Oh, fuck, you’re going to make me come!” she shrieks beneath me. “Jett, harder! Fuck me harder!” If the neighbors weren’t already listening, they definitely are now.
Jett feeds London exactly what she demands, pounding into her pussy the same way Kayne is pounding into my ass. In my position, all I can do is absorb his punishing thrusts until he reaches his breaking point. Which doesn't take long—he and Jett seem to be in sync, because they still moments apart from each other, both growling like territorial carnivores.
Even after the crowning point of his orgasm, Kayne grinds his hips against mine, on a mission to wring out every drop of come from his cock while it's still buried deep in my sore ass.
I'm absolutely obliterated by the time it's all through. I have nothing left as I lay on London, drained of every ounce of energy.
I could just close my eyes right here, head lying contently on her thigh, and go to sleep, but our men aren't having that.
Kayne scoops me up as Jett repositions London the right way on the bed, resting her comfortably on the white fluffy pillows. I snuggle up next to her as Kayne and Jett each claim their prospective side. I start to drift off, exceptionally satisfied, swathed in body heat by our fa-la-la-la-la foursome.
Our relationship is completely unorthodox. I'll be the first to admit. But it's us, and it works, and for some crazy reason, it feels totally right.
I’m startled awake by London laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask half-conscious, her long, purplish-red hair tickling my cheek.
“We are so on the naughty list.”
I'm way too hot.
I shift in Kayne’s ironclad hold as his body heat engulfs me in an inferno. I roll over to find the sun glistening through the large windows, Jett sprawled out on the mattress, and London nowhere to be found. The clock reads 7:15 a.m., which means I have to pull my ass out of bed and get going. Today isn't just Tara’s wedding—it's a theatrical performance. Shimmying out of Kayne’s protesting arms, I finally pry myself away. Tiptoeing through the bright bedroom, I steal Kayne’s undershirt from the floor and slip it on. It smells like him. All warm and manly and fresh. When I take a good look outside, the view of Central Park is breathtaking. It snowed last night, and a heavy dusting of white powder is blanketing the ocean of trees. A joyous tingle of Christmas spirit tickles my insides as I gaze out over the wintery scene. Tara’s day is going to be spectacular. I can feel it already.
In a rush, I head to the bathroom, mentally running through my to-do list. As I enter the cream-colored, pearly room, I find London standing at the spectacled vanity.
“Morning!” I nearly flash by her, but hit the brakes when she looks up at me. Quickly, she wipes her eyes and plasters on a smile. My heart immediately sinks. “What's wrong? Are the kids okay?” I ask worriedly.
“They’re fine.” She sniffs, laughing, I think, at herself. “Everything’s fine. More than fine. Perfect.”
“Then why are you crying?” I touch her bare arm. She’s wrapped in a towel, and her dark red hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail. The messy look works for her. She’s the prettiest holly jolly hot mess I’ve ever seen. And I sort of hate her for it. I look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket.
“Malia sent me a picture of the kids this morning.” She holds up her phone and shows me the two little sleeping angels. “It's funny, I used to cry because my life was so abhorrent. Now I cry because it's so amazing. I never imagined I could have so much. I never thought someone like me deserved it.”
Knowing what I do about her past, I understand where these feelings are cropping up from, but I don’t agree that someone like her doesn't deserve all that she has. London’s soul is beautiful, and despite the things that have happened to her—that were forced upon her—it's the person inside that matters.
“I think you deserve everything you have.” I smile encouragingly. “Maybe even more.”
She drops her head to mine and sighs contently. “Thanks, Ellie.”
“Anytime.” I give her a loving little squeeze. We’ve walked similar paths, albeit hers much darker than mine, and we both survived. That forged a bond between us before we even knew it. But we know it now. She’s become so much more than just a friend. She and Jett are family in the strangest sort of way. I couldn't imagine my life without either of them, and I know they both feel the same. “Wanna share a shower?” I offer friskily.
“As appealing as that sounds, we really should get back to the kids.”
“I think we could spare a few minutes, ‘cause that's a show I’d really like to watch.” Jett saunters into the bathroom wearing just a pair of white boxer briefs and some serious bedhead. “Morning.” He kisses London zealously on the lips then drops a chaste peck on my forehead.
“Morning.” We both reply, and Jett grins like a goof.
“Did you sleep?” he asks London.
“Like the dead.”
“That's what I like to hear.” He pulls her against him as I turn on the shower.
“Ready to sneak out?” I overhear her ask him.
“I'm an expert at sneaking.”
We all know that’s true. He and Kayne both.
“See you guys later.” I'm not the only member of the bridal party. Kayne and Jett are two of CJ’s groomsmen, which means my husband won’t get to sleep the day away. Much to his displeasure.
Jett and London leave me to get ready, which I do in record time. Dressed in black leggings and one of Kayne’s button-up shirts, I wake my sleeping bear to say goodbye.
His big body is sprawled out on the bed, with the crumpled sheets covering only his pelvis. I shake him lightly then press a kiss to his lips. “I'm heading to Tara’s room. Don't sleep too long. You need to get ready, too,” I remind him.
His only reply is a protesting moan and a stretch of his arms. Typical.
“See you later.”
“Ellie...” Kayne reaches out and snatches my wrist—amazing me, considering his eyes are still closed. After which he draws my hand to his erect cock under the sheet and shimmies his hips. “Real quick,” he smirks flirtatiously, not even bothering to open his eyes.
“Kayne! Seriously?” I rip my hand away. “I don't have time to take care of you right now.”
“Mmmm. . .” he bellyaches, pulling me onto the bed. “Please.”
“Absolutely not.” I kiss him swiftly before trying to make an escape.
“But you smell so good.” He tries to capture me in his arms, but I wiggle away.
“You can smell me all you want later. Right now, I have to go. I want to live to see Tara walk down the aisle.”
Forget it. Falling into bed with Kayne is like getting eaten by a Venus fly trap—he’d close his leaves, and I would never see the light of day again. Which does not bode well for the maid of honor. Tomorrow, we can stay in bed as long as we want, and he can have his wicked way with me.
“I owe you a spanking, kitten, for saying no to me!” Kayne bellows from the bedroom.
“I’m looking forward to it!” I yell back ju
st as I leave the hotel room.
After an entire day of primping, prepping, painting, curling, pinning, and a few panic attacks, we are finally ready to leave for the church. For a minute there, I didn't think we were going to make it. I’ve never seen my sister wound so tight. She’s too worried about all the little details. I know she wants everything to be perfect. And it will be. But she has to remember that this day is about her and CJ above all else. When I reminded her of that, she seemed to find her calm, which is a blessing for all parties involved.
I received a 911 text from Kayne requesting I meet him in the lobby ASAP. If he thinks he’s going to make good on his punishment promise fifteen minutes before we have to leave the hotel, he has another thing coming. There is no way I am messing up my hair, my makeup, or my dress just so he can flex his authoritative muscles. At the reception, he can lock me in a closet, spank me, fuck me, wash, rinse, and repeat till his heart’s content. But there's no way I'm walking down a church aisle a sore, disheveled, flushed mess.
I exit the warm hotel lobby and step out into the brisk December air. I shiver despite the faux fur stole draped over my shoulders. Kayne is waiting for me on the sidewalk next to a packed limo. My breath catches from just the sight of him dressed in his black tuxedo. Formal looks fabulous on him. He meets me halfway with a dazzling smile on his face.
“What’s so important you needed to see me?” I bounce continuously in my high heels to keep warm.
“I wanted to make sure you have everything.”
I look down at myself. Pale pink bridesmaid dress, check. Sparkly shoes, check. Wedding ring, check. Choker, check. “I think I'm good.”
Kayne peers at me with an uncertain look in his unique blue eyes, the brown lightning bolt predominant in the gleam of the afternoon sun.
“I think you’re missing something.” He pulls out a long, black velvet box from his inside pocket. “I meant to give it to you last night, but we got a little sidetracked.” He winks.
I take the box he offers me and pop it open. Then I gasp. Staring back at me is a thick tennis bracelet made of pink and white stones. “Kayne...” My voice trails off. “It's...” I'm speechless. My husband is a master of surprises.
“Diamonds and sapphires to go with your dress.” He clasps it around my wrist, and the circular stones catch every prism of light.
“It's absolutely beautiful. Thank you.” I kiss him, taken aback.
“You totally thought I called you down here to spank you, didn’t you?” Kayne asks with his lips only inches away from mine. I giggle, guilty.
“I may have assumed.”
“Kayne!” Jett calls from the limo, interrupting our little interlude. He, too, is dressed dapperly in a black tux. Good thing it's cold outside, because being around all these men in formal wear is making my blood pressure spike. They look too damn good. “Better hurry up, or we’re going to be a man down. CJ is turning green!”
“Shut the fuck up!” I hear CJ yell from inside the limo. There are high spirits and big smiles all around.
“Oh, he’ll make it to that altar, even if we have to carry him pallbearer style. My sister-in-law is getting married today!”
“Then get your ass in the limo already so we can go get hitched!” CJ barks.
“You better go. Tara will be down any second. And CJ can't see the bride before the wedding.”
“Fine,” Kayne relents. “I'll be waiting at the altar.”
I can't help but smile. He said that to me the night before our wedding with the same happiness shining in his eyes. “I'll be the one walking toward you in the pink dress,” I repeat what I told him, only this time changing white dress to pink.
“That was the best day of my life. You officially became mine.”
“I was always yours. From the moment we met.” We compulsively steal another heated kiss.
“C’mon man, let's go! You get to kiss her for the rest of your life! Give CJ the same opportunity!” Jett continues to harass Kayne.
“Go, go. . .” I send him on his way, watching love-struck as the sleek black Infinity limo pulls away.
Just inside the entrance of Old Saint Patrick’s Cathedral we wait for the ceremony to begin.
“You know there's still time to run,” I overhear my father say to Tara. “This is New York. There's a taxi on every corner.” We both shoot him a look of disdain. His comment would be funny if he was actually joking, but he’s not. My father is having a very hard time giving Tara away.
“Dad,” I chastise the man whose facial features I inherited. Same green eyes, thick brown hair, and thin, straight nose.
“What?” he contests. Like he doesn't know. He needs to get over his issues with CJ for good. Hopefully once their union is official, he’ll let all his reservations go. I suspect CJ really isn't the problem anymore. I just think our overprotective father is having a hard time letting his little girls go.
The procession music begins, signaling the start of the ceremony. I hear Tara’s audible breath as the nerves kick in.
“Everything is going to be fine. Just breathe,” I advise her as Camille takes her first steps down the aisle. Tara’s face starts to flush, and I fan her with my hand. “Maybe we should have brought an oxygen mask?” I joke, and Tara actually laughs, relieving a tiny bit of tension.
Before I know it, I’m up. Leaving Tara with an encouraging smile, I grip my bouquet of white roses and light pink orchids and begin my trek down the long, glossy aisle. Tara had the church tastefully decorated with an abundance of candlelight and tall sprays of glittery silver sticks. It's the perfect complement for Christmas Eve and her Winter Wonderland theme.
As promised, Kayne is standing at the altar, watching my every step. Slowly, I walk by family and friends seated in the pews until I reach my designated place next to the other bridesmaids.
Once standing opposite CJ, who still hasn't turned around, the music changes on queue to the wedding march. I catch CJ inhale a shaky breath as the doors to the church swing open and all the guests stand. Tears immediately well the moment I see my sister arm-in-arm with our father. Tara is by far the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. She's statuesque in her sparkly mermaid gown with the holy cow, outrageous tulle bottom. Her makeup is angelic, and her long platinum locks are curled to perfection. She may be the bride, but regardless if she’s on stage or the star of her own wedding, she steals the show every time. She’s always been that person. That huge personality you can't help but gravitate to. Poor CJ, he never stood a chance.
As I watch my sister float down the aisle, I'm overcome with an abundance of joy. Every single person I love is under one roof, safe and happy. I don't know when my life became a living romance novel, but I couldn't be more grateful for the way it turned out. For this perfect moment.
I'm privileged to get the first look at CJ’s face when he finally sees Tara. The awe and pride and happiness in his warm brown eyes should put to rest any doubts about this union. Their beginning wasn't ideal. None of ours were, but our ends are what Christmas magic is made of.
THE END
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Part VII
Exposed for Xmas by Jo Raven
When Hailey moves to a new city, abandoning her past, she starts off her new life with a night out. What she wants is to have a good time and forget about her cheating ex. The last thing she expects is to fall for a local bad boy with an even worse reputation.
Hailey
“New in town?” the bartender asks, mixing my gin and tonic, his blue eyes bright in a web of wrinkles. He looks like a grizzly bear, a hulking bearded man that fills all the space behind the bar. I wonder how he manages to turn around and find the bottles.
“It shows, huh?” I accept my glass and sip at it.
“Nah, it’s just a good icebreaker.” He grins, and I huff a startled laugh. “What brings you here?”
“New job.” And a new start.
“And what do yo
u do for a living, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’m a photographer.” My drink is good and I enjoy it. “Freelance.”
He frowns. I can see he wants to ask why I moved here if I’m freelance, but I turn on my stool to look at the people in the dimly lit bar, avoiding it.
“See anyone you’d like to take a picture of?” he eventually asks, and I am about to say no, until my gaze alights on one fine specimen of a man who has just entered.
He’s dressed like a biker, a helmet under one arm, leather pants, leather jacket and dirty-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. The planes of his face are smooth and symmetrical, his eyes pale and his mouth sensual. He struts into the bar like he owns the place and plants himself on a stool at the other end of the bar.
Oh boy.
A strand of pale hair falls in his face and he pushes it back impatiently before shrugging off his jacket, and holy crap Batman, the guy has arms like a bodybuilder, thick and muscular, covered in dark ink.
I’m positively drooling.
“That one,” I say, breathless. “I’d pay to take pictures of that one.”
In my mind I can see a whole calendar with him. Maybe with a Christmas theme, since the holiday is fast approaching. I could have him, naked, with a red bow.
Yeah.
“You have an eye for trouble, that’s for sure,” the bartender grumbles.
“Trouble? Why?”
“Because Kaden is trouble,” a woman chirps up, taking the stool next to mine. She throws her long dark hair over her shoulder and nods at the bartender. “The usual.”
“Double martini coming right up, sugar.”
A regular. “You know this Kaden?”
“Who doesn’t? He’s bad. A bad apple.”
“Why?”
The bartender slides her drink over and she curls her manicured hand around it, giving me a sideways look. “His ex-girlfriend filed charges against him for forcing deviant acts on her.”
