While the water boils, I can’t keep control of my curiosity. I plunge my hand into the stocking and pull out a small, flat, cardboard box, unwrapped. In it, is a strange black and white photograph.
I turn it to the side and realize, finally, what it is.
Forgetting all about the tea, I climb the stairs and slide into bed, wrapping my arms and legs around her from behind, my tears dripping into her beautiful hair.
* * *
Ridley
My hand comes up to cup my husband’s face as his warmth surrounds me.
“You were supposed to wait until morning,” I say sleepily, but not really mad.
“How long have you known,” he asks, ignoring my question.
“Couple of months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted it to be a Christmas surprise,” I say.
“You have to stop keeping secrets from me, Ridley.”
I giggle. “But it’s so much fun when you get all worked up about it.” The hand that cups his face as he spoons me lets go so my arm can reach back and squeeze his hard ass. In response, Crosby presses into me with a ragged grunt.
“Don’t grope me if you’re tired; you’ll wake up the Gamer’s Favorite Joystick.”
The snort that escapes me has Crosby laughing and rolling me onto my back. “Just tell me to stop if you’re sleepy.”
I stretch out my limbs slowly and lazily like a cat while he tugs away my Christmas pajama pants. Then I inhale sharply at the pleasant sensation of my husband’s beautiful mouth on my lady bits.
“Hmm. You can send me to sleep just like that. Take your time,” I say.
Crosby moans against my sensitive skin, kisses my folds, licks my clit until it’s awake and needy for release. “Sweetheart, I plan to make you scream until you fall asleep, both as a thank you and a punishment for my Christmas present.”
I go nonverbal. Some strange, guttural lady growls escape me as Crosby’s mouth kisses, licks, nibbles and sucks every inch of me between my thighs. I’m close to bursting in response to all the sensations, combined with the sounds, and the vibration of his low, masculine moans. I arch my body closer but he grips me tight to him with his arms. “Let me hold you up. Relax into my arms, babe. I don’t need your help for this.”
Something in his words bring me even closer to the edge. My hands scrabble around the sheets, then go to his hair, then up above my head to grip the railings of the headboard. I’m on happiness sensation overload.
I break, finally, and I’ve never screamed so loud or rolled my eyes back into my head so hard. My body shatters in the kind of orgasm that should be written about in the history books. Man invents fire. Women march for the right to vote. Crosby gives Ridley such good oral she sees the stars of a completely different galaxy altogether.
He keeps on savoring every last drop through wave after wave of aftershocks. Minutes pass and I’m still quivering, whimpering.
Crosby slides up behind me, warming my body with his skin. His warmth sends me off to sleep on Christmas Eve with the visions of our future queen bee dancing in my head and growing in my belly.
Epilogue
Five years later
Crosby
We walk the halls of Greenbridge Academy to help our daughter, Antonia, become familiar with the grounds. Ridley and I have just enrolled her in kindergarten here. Knowing that her mom and grandparents went here, she wanted to see all of it. Including the case that holds the tiara and crown with everyone’s names who have ever been prom king or queen on a plaque next to it.
“Oooh, pretty!”
Our daughter gazes in wonder and awe at the sparkly tiara that sits in the case at the Greenbridge Academy’s Hall of Fame, at the dark end of the long hallway boasting state swim trophies, national chess championships, debate wins, and notable alumni who've gone on to be Secretaries of State, military generals, Ivy League university presidents and more.
“Honey,” Ridley says, “look at Mommy’s swim trophy. Isn’t that amazing?”