“Been right here, baby. Just thinking how cute you’re going to look in your Christmas stockings.”
She twines her hand through mine.
“Sebastian, you do realize that it’s a stocking as in noun: singular—and that you’re supposed to hang it up by the chimney for Santa to fill if you’ve been a good boy—which, of course, you haven’t.”
“Yeah, well, I think we should start a new tradition. Caro in stockings for Christmas. Hey, that alliterates, too.”
“Gosh, you do know some big words, Sebastian,” she says, laughing.
“You taught me everything I know, baby,” and I fasten my teeth around her nipple and tug gently.
She gasps. “Although I never had to teach you that move, did I?”
“Mmm,” I say, in agreement, “guess I’m a natural.”
I tug slightly harder and my right hand moves down to her thighs.
“Again?” she says, in amazement.
“Yeah, it’s Christmas, baby, and I want my presents early.”
Waking up next to Caro is my favorite fucking thing in the world. I mean, yeah, I fucking love being buried inside her and I love seeing her face when she comes, but the absolute best thing is that moment when I watch her wake up. She’s soft and sweet when she’s asleep and then her eyelids blink open and there’s that wicked gleam in the depths of her dark brown eyes. She stretches out and I feel her arms and legs and body brushing my skin. And I know she’s all mine—forever.
And I really fucking love wake-up sex. Since she told me that trick about her orgasm being more intense if she hasn’t been to the bathroom, I always try and get a quickie in before breakfast. It’s a great way to start the day. She comes like a fucking train—yeah.
“Merry Christmas, Sebastian,” she says softly.
God, I love hearing those words. This is the best fucking Christmas ever—and it’s still only 7AM.
“Merry Christmas, Caro. I love you so much, baby.”
She leans over to kiss me, sighing into my mouth. And Christmas Day starts really, really well.
Two hours later, she starts to get up.
“Uh-uh, baby. I’m going to make you breakfast in bed.”
She smiles, that lovely sexy, sleepy smile.
“You can’t cook, Sebastian, despite my best efforts to teach you.”
Wow, that hurts. I’m a really good cook: I can make coffee and … espresso.
“You want coffee in bed, baby?”
She laughs and nods.
My real reason for getting up is to go fetch her present. I found a really cool hiding place at the back of the closet in the spare bedroom. It’s high up and, being such a shrimp, she’d need to stand on a chair to find it. I’m pretty fucking pleased with myself.
And I remember to make the coffee. Yeah, she’s got me tamed—and I fucking love it.
I carry the coffee in two mugs, with the parcel under my left arm. The coffee is in danger of slopping over the sides because I’ve overfilled again, but also because my fucking leg is so damn useless first thing in the morning and my limp is a lot worse. Caro never says anything, but she knows it bothers me.
I put the coffee down and toss her the gift.
“For me?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
She raises her eyebrows and then pulls on the ribbon holding it together. A riot of colorful silk spills out onto the bed. She gazes up, a slow smile spreading across her face.
“Colors, Hunter?”
She’s teasing me: my entire wardrobe consists of white, gray, black, and blue jeans. Oh, and a pair of crazily-bright boardshorts that I bought in Italy.
She holds up one of the pieces of flimsy silk and lace.
“Yes, ma’am. A different color for every day of the week.”
“What color would you like me to wear today?”
“Red: it’s Christmas.”
She laughs. “Ok, I’ll wear the red. Are we saving black for Saturday nights?”
Fuck! That sounds hot.
“Whatever you like, baby.”
She knows I’m lying and she smirks at me.
“Your present is under the bed, Sebastian.”
What? I go to all that trouble to hide her gift properly, and mine is under the fucking bed?
She laughs at my expression.
“I learned being sneaky from this hot Marine I used to know…”
She stops mid-sentence.
“It’s okay, baby,” I say, quietly.
Her hands are on her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that, Sebastian.”
And her eyes fill with tears.
“I know, baby. Don’t cry, Caro. It’s okay. I’m not … it’s okay.”
Fuck. Will I ever get used to this? Being a ‘former’ Marine? Sometimes it just hits me like a fucking sledgehammer.