Mr. Naughty: A Second Chance Christmas Romance

by Kara Hart

  Michael

  “You what?” I ask her, trying my damn hardest not to explode. “Please, tell me what happened, but slower this time.” I can barely comprehend any of this. Dennis? At the mall? What in the ever-living-fuck is going on here?

  “I saw him, Michael. I turned around and he was right there. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to!” she shouts.

  I know she didn’t mean to. It’s not her fault that some lunatic is chasing after her, trying to make amends that can’t be made. Yet, this involves my daughter. Now, I need to make my presence known. This bastard won’t go near my family. He’ll never touch Emily again.

  “It’s not your fault,” I tell her, calmly. I reach for her hand. She takes it and squeezes it harder than ever before. She starts to weep, collapsing into my arms. I want to protect her. I want to give her a life that is beyond all the bullshit she’s experienced in the past.

  “I just…” She stops to wipe the tears in her eyes, but only for a brief moment. “I just wanted to show Lisa a good time. I wanted to get to know her better. I feel like I’m a part of your family now, Michael. I just want to be close to all of you.”

  “I know, baby. We have a man who is clearly fucked up in the head. It’s not your fault, but we need to fix this. I need to talk to him,” I say.

  “Please don’t,” she whispers, shaking her head. “It’ll only make matters worse than they are.”

  “Then what do you propose? Do you think we should just sit and wait for him to go away? You know he’s not going to do that. He needs a certain response from you. He trying to make amends so you can be his again,” I say.

  “I know. He told me he wouldn’t stop. He needs to talk to me. That’s how he put it, anyway,” she sighs. “Oh, Michael. This is all so fucked up. I feel like I’m in a fairy tale, but not one of the nice, good ones. I feel like I’m trapped inside the forest and Dennis is lurking behind every tree I glance at.”

  “We can talk to him together if you’d like,” I say. “But I’m not letting you get near him alone. Fuck that.”

  She takes a few moments to breathe, collect herself, and wipe the rest of the drying tears that have now stuck to her cheek. She nods and whispers, “Okay. Yeah. We’ll meet him together. Somewhere safe.”

  “Should we text him?” I ask her.

  She takes out her phone, hands shaking. “Yes,” she says. “But I won’t tell him that you’re coming. It needs to be a surprise, like he surprised me. He can’t get away with doing anything he wants to.”

  “That’s a plan.” I smile. I hug her one more time, running my fingers up and down her back. She starts to relax, even smiles a bit, and then kisses my shoulder.

  “I feel safe with you,” she tells me. “I’ve never felt safe with anyone, but you actually want to protect me, don’t you?”

  “No matter what happens,” I remind her, “I’ll always protect you. Always. Now, come on. Let’s go hang out with Lisa.”

  “Wait,” she says. She opens her phone and moves toward his texts. I look over at the screen and read the insane shit he’s been sending her. Loosely-veiled threats, packed with enough ammunition from the past to get any woman to agree to his crazy ideas of self-healing. “I need help,” he says. He’s right about that. He needs to drop the past and move the fuck on.

  She begins typing. “Fine. You win. Let’s meet. Oros Café at 10 AM tomorrow? Good?”

  She looks over at me to see if that’s appropriate. I nod my head and she clicks the send button. The wait doesn’t last too long. Almost immediately, we see those familiar three dots light up on the screen as he begins typing something. Then, his message sends.

  “I knew you’d see. I knew it. Oros is an appropriate place. I enjoy their coffee,” he types.

  “I enjoy their coffee?” I laugh. “Jesus, he’s really made a number on this town already, hasn’t he?”

  “I told you. He’s scary. He’ll do anything to get his way.”

  “I believe it. I didn’t think I’d get the honor of meeting your wonderful ex, but I guess there’s no better time than now,” I say.

  I place my hand behind her back, lowering it down to her waist. We walk out of the study, downstairs, and find Lisa staring at her iPad.

  “You are obsessed, girl,” I say. “Come on. We agreed on one hour in the morning, one hour at night. Those are the rules.”

  “Dad! I’ve been on it for thirty minutes. Just give me a second!” she screams.

  I walk over as she quickly tries to exit out of the current screen she’s on. I grab the iPad in the most parental way possible. I look on the screen. She’s been having a social media conversation. I instantly think back to the Tinder app that I downloaded right when I met Emily, and laugh. These things consume the whole world now. My daughter will grow up to be part cyborg, probably.

  “Who’s Nick?” I ask her.

  “None of your business,” she says. She grabs the tablet out of my hand and runs toward the couch.

  “Don’t press it too hard,” Emily whispers. “Nick’s her crush. Let her talk.”

  “He is not my crush!” she says, angrily.

  “Fine,” I give in. “He’s not your crush.”

  She grabs the tablet back, finishes typing something, and sets it back down on the carpet. “Okay, I’m done. Happy?” she says.

  “Very.” I smile.

  “Okay, what do you guys want to do?” she asks, looking at Emily.

  It used to be a tradition in our house to pull out board games right before the night hit us. We haven’t done that in what seems like forever. As things got tough between Susan and I, the games became few and far between. Now, I just have the memories.

  “We haven’t played any board games in a long time,” I tell her. “Remember how much fun we had?”

  “Dad…” she whispers, lowering her head.

  “I’m just saying…”

  “A board game would be fun,” Emily smiles.

  “Fine. One game of Masterpiece and that’s it,” she says. Slowly, but surely, she walks over to the laundry room. She opens the closet and grabs an old, dusty board game. She comes back and sets it down on the carpet.

  “You’re all about to regret asking me to play. I’m a world-renown art dealer,” she tells us.

  “Just you wait,” Emily says.

  We play for hours. Multiple games later find us laughing and bickering, as both Emily and Lisa beat the crap out of me. As the day fades into night, I am less concerned about our world. There are dark things that may lurk, but they’ll never shatter the glass. They’ll always be kept on the outer rim because our love conquers all.

  At least, I sure fucking hope so. Because tomorrow at 10 AM, I meet the man who abused Emily, who tormented her, who kept her locked in her own house. I meet him and settle the score for good.

  Emily

  “I can’t do it,” I say. Once again, my world has begun to fall apart, right before my very eyes. I try to see, but nothing in my vision makes sense. Nothing, except for Michael.

  “Then we’ll call it off,” he says, comforting me.

  “No, that’s not an option,” I say. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “We can do it,” he says. “Tomorrow will be fine. Everything will feel better in the morning. You have me there to protect you.”

  “But he’s a snake. I’m positive he already knows about you. He’s probably looked you up and read everything there is to read. He’s perfecting his plan as we speak. I know it,” I say.

  “What’s the worst he can do? Is he going to kill me?” he laughs, but it’s not a laughing matter. Truth is, I don’t know what he’s capable of at this point. He never overstepped the boundary of keeping the living alive, but I wouldn’t put it past him to overstep some things, now that he’s lost me for good.

  “I don’t know. Truthfully. He could,” I say. He looks away, angrily. The wheels start to move in his head. “We’re walking into a landmine marathon.”

  “Maybe. At least we’re
in a public place,” he says.

  “Call a friend,” I tell him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we should have back up. We need to be really smart about this. A third person could save our asses,” I say.

  “Well, the options are sort of limited,” he says.

  “Yeah, but we don’t need many options. All we need is someone who’s quick,” I say. “Hanson.”

  “Oh, come one,” he groans. “Not Hanson. Anyone but Hanson.”

  “Michael, he’s not a dumbass. He’s quick-witted,” I say.

  He covers his face with his hand and shakes his head. “With jokes, maybe. But you think he’s going to be able to back me up?” he asks.

  “He’ll come in the café five minutes after we do. He’ll sit down at a table behind him. It’s not too crowded of a place. I used to go every day when I first moved here. If he’s paying attention, he can jump in if anything happens,” I say.

  Okay, now I’m starting to get focused. Michael nods his head. “Yeah, you’re right. That sounds like a plan,” he says.

  “It’s the only way,” I say. “And after all of this bullshit, maybe we can start to focus on our lives.”

  “Shit,” he laughs. “After this is said and done, we can do whatever we want.”

  “Like go roller skating in abandoned skate rinks?” I ask him.

  “I miss that,” he says. “I’m willing to risk the alarm going off if you are.”

  “I’m always willing to engage in risky behavior.” I wink.

  He kisses me tenderly as my back slowly lowers against the mattress. I close my eyes and feel his tongue slide against mine. I’m so wet right now. I need him more than he knows. I need him to protect me, to be there for me, to light my darkness when I am feeling powerless. He can do that, his hands seem to say.

  His hands move around my breasts. Circular and fluid are his movements, careful and precise. I feel my shirt slide over my shoulders and above my head. A breath of air floods my lungs as he lightly pinches on my nipples. Still kissing me, my spine begins to tingle. All of the fear I’ve been consumed by turns into absolute, maddening pleasure and excitement.

  Quickly, he moves one hand down my chest, trailing an index finger across my abdomen, passing my belly button. I shiver as it tickles me slightly, yet when he pulls his fingers away, I beg for more. “Don’t stop,” I tell him. “I need this more than you know.”

  His fingers reconnect with my skin, now risen with goose bumps. I bite his lip playfully and he pulls back, only to move forward again. I feel his cock, hard and direct, against my thigh. His fingers move toward my small tuft of hair, pushing towards my lips. He finds what he’s looking for, letting out a manly growl of satisfaction. I can feel him growing, yearning for another chance to get inside me.

  Absolute perfection. That’s how he makes me feel. Queen. That’s my title now, and he’s my king.

  His whole palm comes curved around my wetness. He spreads it all around me, opening up with two fingers. He spreads me apart and closes me, squeezing lightly. But when I open my eyes, I notice that he’s completely ready for me. His cock is as hard as a piece of plywood. No, it’s harder than metal itself.

  But he teases himself, just to keep the tension building. He eases himself off the bed, sliding backwards. His mouth moves down my body, kissing each tender spot, until finally, he wraps those lips around my pussy. His tongue immediately tastes me, pushing in deep. He groans once more as his tongue slides up and down, left to right. He consumes all of me, just as the fear did earlier.

  If I don’t see him again, I don’t know what I’ll do. Without this, I am nothing. “Do you trust me?” he asks, as kissing the underside of my thigh. He bites sensually and smiles.

  “I trust you with all my heart,” I tell him.

  With that being said, he fucking pounces on me, pinning my arms down to the mattress with his hands. “Never trust a man who works with his hands,” he says.

  “What’re you going to do to me?” I whisper.

  “Anything I fucking please.”

  He lowers his head and kisses my neck. All the blood in my body rushes to my core. “Yes,” I whisper. “God yes.” From my peripheral, I can see his hips push back. He’s a beast and he’s totally out of control. I’m just a subject to his every whim and I fucking love it.

  His hips rise into the air. He doesn’t even have to use his hands. He thrusts forward and I feel him enter me. He’s perfectly thick and his cock is already pulsing. He keeps pushing forward, slowly, and he watches as every inch of him disappears past my lips. They wrap solidly around his member and for a second, I wish I knew what it was like to be him right now. His head tilts back and he tries not to moan too loud, but I feel that good to him.

  I cover his mouth and he bites my palm. I don’t pull back. I let his teeth sink in and let go. He kisses where he bites, puts some goodness into the hurt, both reminders of what this life is. He sinks into me, covered by me. In so many ways, I’m his protector too. I shield him, tend to his emotional and physical needs, and let him conquer what he wishes. As he buries himself further, he knows he’s planting a seed forever. Or at least, that’s what his brain is telling him to do.

  Divide, divide, divide. And when all is said and done, let it be known that he was here.

  I press my hand against his solid chest. His body is incredible. It’s natural, yet strong. He tries pushing forward, but my hand pushes back. He smiles, playfully and I do the same. “Not so fast,” I say.

  “What’s the matter?” he whispers. “Can’t take it?”

  “Oh, I can take it. I can take every single inch,” I whisper. He kisses me. Still, I push him back, keeping the tension rising. “But I don’t want you like this.”

  “How do you want me then?” he asks, getting more excited.

  “Like this,” I gesture. I reach down on the ground and grab two articles of clothing. I place them in his hands and turn around, arching my back out. He runs his hands down my spine, to my ass and groans wildly. I put my hands in the center-opening of the bedpost. He immediately knows what to do.

  He begins tying my wrists to the wood, slowly making a tight knot. “Tighter,” I keep telling him. “I don’t want to be able to escape. I want to be all yours.”

  “My prisoner,” he says.

  He tightens the knot as tight as it can go. I push my lower body onto my knees and hold myself steady. My ass is raised into the air, ready for him. First, he dives in, head first. His tongue comes across every hole. He tastes me like I’m a foreign delicacy, freshly imported and completely expensive. When I’m wetter than before, I feel one hand curl around my neck. The other takes my hair and pulls back.

  “There we go,” he whispers. “Good girl.”

  Right now, I’m his little slut. When we’re together like this, I’m willing to do anything. He lets go of my throat to spank my ass with his open palm. “Ugh,” I moan, wincing slightly. “Again.”

  He spanks me again. I can feel the skin prickle. He does it once more. Again and again, he comes crashing down against my thick flesh. It is only until I’m shattered, shaking on the bed, does he stop to rub my skin flat. “Did I hurt you?” he asks.

  Yes. He hurts me so good, which is why I stay. This is the only type of pain I want to feel. It’s that boiling point of emotions that swell up inside of you that makes you absolutely need a big, fat cock. It’s the only thing that can add to this.

  I nod my head to answer his question, still shivering on the bed. He places his arm under me, pushing my back onto my knees. He positions my body how he wants it. I try not to buckle and fall back onto the mattress. It’s hard, but I use every ounce of strength and energy.

  Then I feel him. I feel the head of his cock push against my lips. They part and devour him. He thrusts hard and unswerving. His hands fall across my hips. He squeezes the extra skin and gets a new burst of energy. He starts fucking me with explosive power.

  “Yes!” I moan. He squee
zes harder and pushes in deeper, with each new thrust. I can feel something happening inside me. I’m going to cum. “I’m—” Just when I’m about to tell him the new revelation, he covers my mouth until I’m forced to breathe from my nose.

  “Oh God,” I want to say, but I can’t speak a syllable. My eyes start to turn in my head, pushing up. My body begins shaking. I grow weak and then strong, in that order, over and over again. My toes press into the mattress as I try to grab ahold of something, anything, that can keep me grounded. It’s no use. I’m done for. I’m—

  Yes, I’m cumming! I’m pushing deep into the air, into space, into that unknown, yet valuable void. It’s filled with pleasure. It’s mysterious. It’s quick, yet long lasting. It’s a total contradiction and I fall head first into it. He lets go so I can breathe freely again. I collapse onto the bed, twitching wildly. I’m so warm, wet, and I feel so fucking wrong. I live for moments like this. If Michael was my captor, I’d do anything in the world to please him, including staying silent and cute in my prison cell.

  “Holy shit,” I moan, still suffering from my internal earthquake. Tears are almost pushing past my eyes. I take another deep breath and try to calm myself, but he’s still fucking me and it’s almost impossible to try and do anything except submit to him.

  I’m flat on the bed, but my hands are raised in the air, connected to the bed. The knots are tight and they strangle my wrists. He’s on top of my smooth, juicy ass, just pounding away with all his might. “Give it to me,” I tell him. “Give it to me good, baby.”

  “You want me to cum, don’t you?” he asks me. I nod my head eagerly.

  “Cum inside me,” I whisper.

  He pumps and whispers, “Yeah?” But there doesn’t need to be any response. He has already made up his mind on that subject.