He wasn’t in the least surprised to learn his wife had sought his sister’s feedback. To his delight Victoria and Desi became fast friends and his wife made it a hard rule that at least once a week both families got together via FaceTime.
Shit. If Danny wasn’t wide awake and clinging to both of them, he’d lay his sexy little wife down on the grass and thank-fuck her until she couldn’t walk because without her calm, wifely hand on the rudder, he would surely have steered the St. John ship straight into the rocks.
A thank you fuck was the least he could do.
“No,” Victoria laughed knowingly as she stood up and brushed off her butt.
“Are you sure?” he drawled with a wagging brow leer.
“You’re impossible Mr. St. John.”
“And you wife, need a good St. John shagging at least once a day.”
“What do you call what we did this morning? Sleep fucking?”
He gasped and covered Danny’s ears with his big hands. “Mrs. St. John! Language!”
She lifted Danny from his arms and kissed the boy’s cheeks and neck until he giggled with delight.
“Here are the available shag times for today. Afternoon nap—figure at least ninety minutes—and then the all clear signal after bath, story and bed time.”
“Well,” he grumbled playfully. “Why not both?”
She rolled her eyes and he got on his knees and clasped his hands together. “Please, please, please,” he begged with a whiney twang. “I’ll do all the work.”
Danny stuck his thumb in his mouth and lay on his mom’s shoulder. Drae’s heart instantly melted.
“Tell you what,” she whispered as Drae stood. Rubbing the boy’s back and smiling she told him rather bluntly, “If this please, please, please comes with a blindfold and some rope—maybe a gag for shits ‘n’ grin—I’ll see what I can do.”
“Prepare to be bound, blindfolded and shagged.”
Not even a relaxed and sleepy Daniel on her shoulder could stop Victoria from roaring with laughter.
“Oh, baby,” she snickered. “It’s not me who’s going to get tied, bound, gagged and oh yeah, f-u-c-ked,” spelled out.
Hot damn! The wife was feeling frisky. If she wanted to act out one of her little control fantasies, who was he to deny her? And besides, he admitted, she did a better sexy dominatrix than anything he’d seen in person or in porn. Maybe he’d ask her to put on the Elastagirl costume. Mrs. Incredible as a domme presented a shit ton of wicked possibilities.
“How much time do I have?”
She glanced at the sleepy child on her shoulder. “Fading fast so not long.”
“Where do you want me?”
Her instant pout made him stop and think. What the hell?
“Everyone has a playroom except us.”
“No they don’t.”
Her annoyed sniff made his dick get hard. “Well, Angie does. And technically, so does Alex.”
“Victoria,” he laughed. “Wood floors and a bunch of saddles do not a romper room make.”
“Shh!” She scolded.
His lucky son was enjoying a boob cruise on his mom’s chest as she rocked backed and forth, lulling him to sleep.
“You’re forgetting the studio,” she argue-whispered. “There could be screaming and no one would know.”
There was just no way not to fall in love all over again with this feisty little woman when she said shit like that. Victoria’s pragmatism showed itself at the strangest times. Like when they met, he thought with a big smile. Nerd Girl had her inner geek on shoot to kill back then. Bantering back and forth with her when she was in that frame of mind was one of life’s delights.
Pretending to tug on invisible cuffs followed by an imaginary tie adjustment, he gave her his very best 007 leer.
“If you feel the urge to scream, may I suggest the barn?”
His wife looked at him like he was nuts. “You mean your wood shop?”
He calmly tracked her thoughts as they flashed on her face. Victoria didn’t fully appreciate how easily he could read her. This is fucking fun, he thought.
Calling up the suave, cocky arrogance that was a St. John hallmark, he ran a finger under the two inches of her T-shirt neckline he could get to without disturbing the baby and sketched a verbal picture of the sort of kinkified debauchery the barn offered.
“Think about it,” he drawled. “Fire up the buzz saws, get some ferocious noise going. Peg the sound system to max and rock the fuck out. We could work up quite a sweat and you could scream all you want. Ecstasy sounds hot and sexy when you lose control.”
Even when they were just teasing each other and fooling around, there was something exhilarating about the unique energy the two of them created.
Watching his naughty wife imaging who knows what from Drae’s description was pure magic. She made this St. John crap look good. Thank fucking god.
With every drop of impertinence his wife’s southern belle mama instilled in her only daughter, Victoria, petite, never demure and always fascinating Victoria gave him a saucy sneer and said, “Why do you always imagine it’s me screaming in ecstasy?”
He barely managed not to swallow his tongue. There was nothing hotter than a Victoria St. John seduction. It turned her on to take the lead and he always let her because no matter how big and bad she tried to be, the moment would come when she’d surrender completely and beg him to, as she snarkily put it, do his thing.
Would he be hollering his pleasure before that? Fuck to the yeah. When they got going, a veritable symphony of grunts, growls, cries and screams always broke out. Music to his ears.
Hmmm. Maybe he should think about the loft in the barn where they could indulge their senses and give in to the molten hot lust on constant simmer with both of them.
“And as for where I want you,” she murmured softly. “Our bedroom. Naked. On that padded chair. The one with no arms. And put the blindfold on.”
His brows shot up.
“I’ll bring the rope,” she snickered quietly.
“And what do I bring?”
The little witch stepped closer and palmed his dick through his jeans. “This. Oh, and no touching the equipment before I get there.”
Blowing an air kiss, she patted their son’s back, turned and simply walked away, leaving him standing there to deal with the stupid dog as a full blown visual of him tied to the chair and blindfolded with his dick at full attention exploded in his mind.
“Georgie! Sit,” Heather grumbled with no effect. The damn dog was jacked up on the same high Bella was. Making a gingerbread house wasn’t supposed to be the sugary equivalent of Halloween but that’s how this endeavor was turning out.
Letting a six year old lick the icing spoon and scarf down some mini marshmallows, two handfuls of red and green M&Ms, plus an equal number of jelly beans guaranteed the exuberant silliness she was unsuccessfully trying to manage.
“Ooooh,” Bella murmured. Her eyes shone with the magic only a hand made gingerbread creation could evoke. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Heather smiled at the way she said ‘beautiful’. The emphasis on the first syllable was something her dad did too.
“The cactus is cool, huh?”
She studied the interesting stack of green candies stuck together with royal icing that actually did resemble a scraggly cactus. Another of Bella’s many talents. The kid could conceptualize like a boss sometimes.
“Honey, it’s fantastic,” she assured her baking helper.
Licking icing off her fingers, Bella also studied their creation, walking around the table twice to look at it from every angle.
Her kitchen was a certified disaster zone, she was pretty sure there was icing, and colored sugar in her hair but Heather was deep in bliss at the moment. Making gingerbread creations with her mom and brother was a holiday highlight she was eager to share with Bella. Needing FEMA’s assistance to clean up was a small inconvenient price to pay for all the wonderfulness the activity delivered.<
br />
“Hey!” Bella suddenly shouted as a huge grin spread across her face. “Can we make one for the Chief? He doesn’t have a tree.”
The child’s sweet, caring enthusiasm squeezed Heather’s heart.
Wait. Huh? How the hell did Bella know the Justice security chief didn’t put up a tree?
“Oh?” She almost grimaced at how counselor-ish that inquisitive non-response came off.
“Santa lost his address too,” the child murmured. “There was a bad war. Did you know?” she asked Heather with wide, concerned eyes. Shrugging her little shoulders, Bella bent over and patted George’s head. “Daddy says Santa doesn’t do war.”
Luckily the little girl wasn’t looking her way when a knee-jerk eye roll claimed her expression. Seriously Brody? Santa doesn’t ‘do war’? How the hell was a six year old supposed to interpret that?
“I don’t like war,” Bella Mia Jensen declared rather insistently. “It’s stupid.”
The child-like snarky emphasis and the way she spat out the word ‘stupid’ made Heather chuckle. Shame the kid didn’t have any opinions!
“Five me, girlfriend,” she teased with her hand out. Bella’s mighty slap of solidarity rang out across the kitchen.
“You might want to consider being President some day, young lady. I think we could all do with your kind of common sense.”
“Can I take Georgie with me?”
Whoa. Had a seed just been planted? My goodness. Envisioning a future Bella in a rebel’s outfit with her natural badass qualities all shined up and ready to kick ass, taking the adult world by storm, was hella’ easy.
“And jelly beans. Georgie and jelly beans. And tacos.” The child paused. “Oh, and you Heather. I need you. Daddy can come too. As president I get to say.”
It’s ridiculous that I feel honored, right?
She marveled at the way her heart fluttered hearing the child’s innocent admission of need. Bella needed her.
Their conversation ended abruptly when George scrambled on the tile floor of the kitchen, his nails making scratching sounds as he sought traction to race to the front door.
“Where are my girls?” a loud voice boomed.
Bella gasped and smiled. “Daddy’s home!”
Just like the dog, her little feet started spinning and off she ran with apron strings flapping as she moved. She was also covered head-to-toe with sticky icing and sugar sprinkles that she was now tracking into the rest of the house.
Instead of feeling peeved that there was now one more goddamn thing to clean up, Heather let the smile in her heart spread to her face. Feeling solidarity with moms and caregivers the world over, she did a mental happy dance. Her mom was right. People came to parenting by a variety of paths and no matter what a bunch of rules and legal stuff said, she was Bella’s mom in every way that counted. And that meant the kid could make all the mess she wanted as long as she was happy and had a smile on her face.
Brody appeared next with a giggling Bella dangling in his arms. “Look what I found,” he teased. “One of Santa’s gingerbread house helpers.”
The room went still and silent when Bella froze.
She looked at Brody and met his wide-eyed gaze. He mouthed the word ‘Fuck’ and made a grimace.
Expecting a snappy response to Brody’s unintentional slip of the tongue, she was mildly surprised when instead, the intuitive little girl gave every indication she was carefully considering her father’s words.
Lowering Bella to the floor, Brody stroked her hair as she leaned against his legs. It reminded Heather of that first night when she met the confused little girl. The way she clung to her father struck a chord deep inside.
“Oh,” she finally said. The word was filled with childlike wonder. “So everyone is a helper? Even George? And Finn?”
The sound of a door creaking open was how Heather’s life soundtrack would record this moment. A gingerbread project, too much sugar and some Daddy foot-in-mouth had miraculously led to an eye-opening revelation for sweet Bella.
Jumping in and overriding whatever Brody started to say, Heather knelt and took Bella’s hands. She had this. Totally.
“Wanna know a Christmas secret?”
Bella’s eyes lit up. What kid could resist the temptation of a secret? She nodded several times and waited. Her excited expectation hung in the air.
“You’re right, sweetie. We are all Santa’s helpers. You said it yourself,” she reminded her with a quick squeeze of her hands. “It’s a big job and he needs everyone to do their part. And yes. Even Finn. He decorated Pete’s didn’t he? That makes him a helper.”
“He put reindeer poop in a jar for everyone to look at.” Bella stated.
What the hell could she say to that? “Right. And here’s another little secret. There are some people, mostly grown-ups, who think Santa isn’t real.”
She saw Brody tense up. See? That’s why she had to handle this. He’d make a mess of it by trying too hard to do the right thing. Sometimes you just had to wing it.
“Are they on the naughty list?”
Heather laughed and drew Bella into a quick hug. “No, honey! Not believing isn’t the same as being naughty. It’s okay not to believe but you wanna know what?”
Kids were so damn easy. “What?”
“Here’s what I say. If Santa isn’t real and Christmas magic phony, how come everyone gets so carried away? Hmm? Remember those kids that your class made cards for?”
“Yeah. Some of them didn’t have homes.”
“That’s right. But somehow every one of those kids will have some Christmas magic. How? Because Santa makes it possible. Santa doesn’t just deliver toys sweetie. Sometimes, he’s the reason mommies and daddies with no homes still manage to have Christmas.”
Knowing full well she just stepped into a field of landmines, she waited for the comeback she knew would happen.
“But I didn’t get Christmas. Ever. Santa forgot me.”
Brody chose that moment to get on one knee and put an arm around his daughter. His expression was serious. And worried. But he trusted that she knew what she was doing.
Sticking to the facts with no embellishment, she went for it. “Santa did not forget you. He couldn’t find you, Bella. Because some not very nice people kept you hidden. There’s a difference. And you did have Christmas sweetie. Your first Christmas. And Daddy was there. Remember he told you?”
Brody had tears in his eyes when he looked at Heather and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’
“Pops has a picture of us,” Bella murmured.
Damn, damn, damn. Now is not the time to cry. She cleared her throat and continued.
“Now, I’m pretty sure Santa is feeling a little bummed right now because he didn’t mean to let you down. I know he’s wondering where your wish list is.”
The swiftness of her answer knocked Heather back a notch.
“I got plenty of presents for my birthday.”
Okay then. Good thing to remember. Promises of stuff weren’t going to make a difference once her mind was made up.
“You could still send him a little note. Say hi. Maybe ask how things are going.”
She could almost hear her mom’s laughter in her head when Bella hit back immediately. So this is what I put my parents through. Trying to reason with a hard-willed child.
“He already got a note. Mrs Betty said she sent a new address.”
Fuck. She searched Brody’s expression for help. It was hard to refute the kid’s denunciations.
And then it really did hit her. A bolt of inspiration out of the blue shot straight to the center of her brilliant plan to make Santa real for Bella. Humorously conceding the higher ground to the iron-willed child, she squeezed Bella’s hands, gave her forehead a little kiss and totally agreed with her. This was one time to take the low road and come riding back hard later after putting her new and even more fabulous plan into action.
“Good point. You’re absolutely right little lady. The snowball is in Santa’s cou
rt. Let’s see what he does, okay?”
Brody chuckle snorted when Bella looked a bit stunned. The kid had not been expecting her adults to capitulate.
In desperate need of a quick change of subject, she untied Bella’s apron and pulled it over her head. “Georgie needs a walk. Daddy will go with you while I clean up and start dinner.”
“Tacos?” Bella asked hopefully.
Performing a quick mental inventory Heather nodded once she was sure all the ingredients for Bella’s favorite dinner were on hand. The grilled veggies and salmon she planned would have to wait for tomorrow.
Satisfied and distracted, Bella ran off with a hand slap on her leg for Georgie to follow. “I’ll get the leash,” she hollered.
“How much sugar did she have?” Brody asked with a grin.
“Plenty,” she replied. “Kiss me before I die.”
Crushing her in a bold embrace, he claimed her lips without hesitation. The raw hunger unleashed by their kisses made her pant heavily when they pulled apart.
“Run them both ragged, Daddy. Burn off that excess energy and hopefully she’ll drop like a stone after dinner.”
His eyes narrowed. She knew what that meant.
“Do we have any whipped cream? The kind that squirts?”
Wrapping her arms around his waist she pulled him in tight and slid her hands into his back pockets.
“Even if we didn’t I’d make some from scratch and leave you to get creative with the delivery system.”
“Good. Get it ready then. I’m feeling artistic.” He looked her over like a man inspecting a masterpiece. “Your body is the perfect canvas for what I have in mind.”
Tacos followed by a kinky whipped cream adventure. A tingling thrill raced along her nerve endings.
Santa would have to wait.
STEPHANIE EYED THE pile of craft supplies spread out on the worktable and formulated a damn good plan. What Brody and Heather were asking for wasn’t much of a challenge, which left her imagination free to run wild.
Calder slid behind and patted her bottom as he peered over her shoulder.
“Do you need all this shit?”
She laughed and whirled around, twining her arms about his neck. Smiling broadly she teased him with her answer.
Dear Bella: A Family Justice Novella Page 4
