Over Her Head

1556734581474.jpg

Over Her Head

Being Thalia

Chapter 33

By avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

AU Fan Fiction

In the sequel to Educating Thalia, the lovely Thalia Bareo is growing up, making her own way in the world after losing both men she loved, Professors Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago holds down a job in Madrid as she tries to deal with the real world. She continues her studies and freelances as a consultant for museums around the world. Being Thalia updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Warning: As a whole, this work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content. Each chapter will not be coded with individual warnings. The overall story contains no hidden triggers.

If you are new to the series and characters, click here to the beginning of Educating Thalia.

If you are looking for other stories in the sequel, click here for the beginning of Being Thalia

Word Count: 1656

Summary: A conversation with her stepmother makes Thalia realize her true growth.

Previous Chapter, Ready?

December 2021

Cradling the phone to her shoulder, Thalia digs through the box of wrapped ornaments. “I know it’s in here somewhere,” she mutters.

“Did you even hear what I asked? I asked what I should pack, weather-wise. Are you even paying attention to me? What are you doing that’s more important than talking to your mother?”

Thalia drops her hand down into her lap. “I’m sorry, Mum, you’re right. Just lookin’ for something I can’t find.” She sighs and tugs her cozy sweater over her belly. “No, I didn’t hear what you asked. Can you repeat it please?”

Stacey’s laughter stutters over the phone line. “Do you hear yourself? You just called me ‘Mum,’ with a British accent. Are you and Tom spending that much time together?”

Thalia screws up her face and scratches her brow. “Was that your original question? Or are you changing topics to try to get info from me?” She laughs. “Um, yeah. I guess we’re spending a fair amount of time together. I was in Greece for a week, after we got back from London, so-”

“London? What were you two doing there?”

Thalia blushes, grateful this isn’t a video chat. She swallows and runs her tongue over her teeth. “He took me to meet his parents. We had afternoon tea and cake with his mother and sister, before going to see a production in the West End, and meeting some of his school pals for drinks.”

“You met his old friends too?”

Thalia fidgets, wanting to get back to decorating the tree, and not wanting to give away too much information to Stacey. She takes every little detail and makes it bigger than it needs to be. She had shared with her mother they had patched things up and had been spending some time together, but she hadn’t gone into much depth, wanting to avoid the psychoanalyzing of every moment, every word spoken, that Stacey was known to put her through.

Besides, she likes keeping her new life with Tom private. Something they share between themselves because they want it that way. Not secret because it has to be, like before.

“We met his friend, Luke, and some other schoolmates happened to be at the pub where we were.” She clicks her teeth at the memory. “We didn’t stay long actually. One of the fellows was piss drunk and made an ugly comment about my weight.” She pushes down the flood of anger in her gut. “It was all I could do to drag Tom out before he started a fight. But he’d also had a pint or two, and was feeling no pain. Luckily, Luke and I got him out of there before fists started flying.”

“Oh, Thalia, honey, I’m so sorry. I hope that didn’t put a damper on your weekend getaway.”

She hides her smile behind her hand. No. The damper on the weekend was when the proper asshole insisted she sleep alone in the guest room, since his mother had it fixed it ready for her stay. He’d told her she was too noisy! Of all things!

She’d gotten even by sending him filthy texts and photos the rest of the night before finally falling asleep in his old rugby jersey. And when she trounced downstairs in her usual ‘morning before coffee’ grumpy mood, his mother was astonishingly nice. Kind and open with exactly the same charismatic smile as her son, and with a backbone of steel hidden beneath the affable charm. Mrs. Hiddleston–correction, Diana–hadn’t once treated Thalia oddly, even though she had reason enough to do so. They’d amiably shared coffee and fresh scones, teasing Tom about is wild, floppy curls when he came in from his morning run.

“No.” She answers her stepmother after blinking away the memories. “We had a really nice visit. His childhood home, his mother and sister, everything was great. It’s all so funny when you really get to know people and find out they are definitely a product of where they were raised. Books and music everywhere. Everything with a story or fact to go with it. His mother once worked in the stage and theater industry, so Diana really fostered his love for the dramatic arts. She had photos of his school plays, and albums with his school papers. He was always so smart!” She shakes her head in disbelief of his achievements. “You could tell he was a charismatic young boy.” Stacey giggles, but Thalia ignores her. “It was nice to get to know him on a more personal level, you know what I mean?”

Stacey hums quietly. “Thalia, neither of you are getting younger. He practically left a woman at the altar to have you back. Is this what you really want?”

Want, Mom? We’re just together, having fun. Getting to know one another, differently now. Better now. We’re both adults, have our own jobs and interests-”

“-Thalia, don’t be foolish. That man will want to settle down with you. There’s only one reason a man his age calls off a wedding and mere weeks later takes a former love home to meet his parents. If you aren’t looking for long term, if you’re going to break his heart-”

“Stacey, stop. Just stop it. We’re not putting a label on anything.” Is ‘mine’ a label? She smiles slyly, again thankful this is not a video chat. “He comes to the city to research and write. I fly off wherever the museum sends me. In the next five months, I have to be in Greece again, Australia and Egypt. I might have to speak at a conference in London. We’re together when we can be, but we’re not making a big deal of it.” She tries to squelch down the gnawing feeling that meeting his mother was a big deal. Maybe if she keeps shoving that aside, the thought will go away. “I’m just enjoying life, right now. I’m happy. You’ll see when you get here for Christmas.”

Moving the conversation away from her relationship with Tom, she tries to refocus her mother. “I can’t wait to take you to all my favorite places, and introduce you to my friends, Henrí and his family, and Lucía. You’re gonna love it so much, you’ll wanna move here!” She digs her hand back in the box, looking for the Christmas ornament Tom bought her in Munich years ago. “So if you wanna keep talking nonsense, I’m going to hang up. Or you can tell me more of the things you wanna see when you’re here or the neighborhood gossip from back home? Oh! Did I tell you I’m wearing the Christmas sweater you sent? It’s so soft, I love it!”

Twenty minutes later, the phone call is over. Thalia rolls over onto her knees, placing her hands on the couch and pushes herself up. The couch cushions separate and a piece of paper draws her eye. She pulls it from its wedged spot, laughing at the childish scrawl. “I think you’re beautiful. You’re my warrior princess. Always, Tom.”

Dropping it in the glass dish on the table, it lands with the pile of other secret notes she’s been finding around the house. Some feature words of encouragement and wishes for a good day, others spout Shakespeare quotes or random facts he knows and wants to share.

Lifting the box from the floor to the coffee table, she leans over to better dig through it. The wrapped ornament she was looking for is nestled in the corner, next to some popsicle stick tree ornaments she and Avery made together. Carefully unwrapping the ornament from Tom, she decides both have an equal place on the Christmas tree this year. Both have made her the woman she is today…

She admires the individuality of the hand blown glass ornament he’d bought at the Christkindlmarkt the year they’d spent the holiday together in Germany. It had been too painful to look at after he left her in Paris, so it had been hidden in the bottom of the box. The Christmas box that went from Paris, to the US and survived the fire, and followed her to Madrid. Holding it up to the light of the setting sun coming through the window, the colors dance and swirl, making her feel warm and happy.

Turning up the volume on the Christmas music playing from her tablet, she places the conversation with Stacey out of her mind. Stacey, who always worried about her, always pushed her to find a man to take care of her. “That’s her life. Not mine. I can take care of myself.”

Realizing she’d spoken aloud, she shakes her head. With her free hand, she loops the ribbon from the handmade child’s ornament over one finger and an angel ornament her father had given her over another. Thalia carries them to the tree, adding the last additions to the tiny little tree on the table top window. Tapping the bottom of a Disney ornament Chris had gifted her on a trip, she watches it spin, laughing when it bumps the hotdog one she and Tom bought their first Christmas together, when he’d surprised her in Chicago, to commemorate their feast at Portillo’s. Always a battle between those two. She laughs out loud, stepping back to admire the tree. Tilting her head to the little display of colorful ornaments collected over the years from her travels, something feels like it’s missing.

With a sigh, she reaches for her phone and snaps a quick picture. Attaching it to a message, she sends Tom a little note: Something’s missing from my tree! Bring your tartan wool scarf this weekend. It would make the perfect wrap around the base. Found another little note… Thank you!

When she re-reads the message, it gives her pause. These notes he’s left for her. The messages they send each other. How things automatically remind her of Tom or how he will sometimes give her impulsive calls just to share a tidbit of new knowledge–this isn’t what two people in a casual affair would do.

Deep down she knows that there’s nothing ‘casual’ about her feelings for him. Never was, never will be. The thought is scary…and yet it doesn’t terrify her as much as it would have some years ago.

Click ahead to Chapter 34: A Better Man

Copyright © 2019 avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Christmas in NYC

NYC dec 23 2018

Christmas in NYC

Being Thalia

Collaboration by avenger-nerd-mom & devikafernando

It’s TRUE! @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom are working on a SEQUEL for Educating Thalia, involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans! The two rivals are still vying for their right to claim the lovely Thalia Bareo. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago is all grown up now, holding down a job in Paris, continuing her studies and freelancing as a consultant for museums around the world.

To kick off the premiere of the sequel, Being Thalia, we’ll take a look at Christmas vacations Thalia’s shared with her men in the last two years since her graduation.

A Christmas one-shot, featuring Thalia and Tom in Munich, is posted below and the story with Chris in NYC will post December 23. The series premiere is slated for January 2, 2019!

Warning: This work contains adult content. If you proceed you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.

Thalia comes to Chris’s rescue when she finds out he will be all alone for Christmas

Word Count: 6888

Click here for the story page to read all the chapters in the novella, Being Thalia. Click here for series one, Educating Thalia.

The Lyft ride pulls up to the curb of the hotel and she sees him standing there, stamping his feet in the cold, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Home. She’s home and her body vibrates with every breath, a joyous contentment rushing through her body. “Stop here and let me out,” she says to the driver. Thalia’s hands shake with nervous excitement as she points to the spot. She expresses her gratitude to the driver as a concierge rushes over to take her bag and she exits the car quickly, poised to tap her phone to send the payment.

The dark haired beauty nods to the hotel attendant and he disappears inside with her things.

Pulling her wool coat down and adjusting her signature pink scarf, she shakes her hair back, inhaling deeply, readying herself to see him face to face again.

“Hey, you,” Thalia calls warmly, her voice a bit shaky, inviting him to turn to look at her.

He spins on his heels, righting himself quickly. “Hi,” he whispers, the sound not quite carrying to her ears. God, he looks so handsome! The wave of love rolling off him barrels towards her down the sidewalk as she quickly bridges the gap between them. His sad, puppy dog look is immediately replaced with love and awe and she already feels wrapped in his love.

NYC 2.gif

His love. “Tell your expressive eyebrows to shut up.” She laughs, happy tears streaking her face. “They’re already screaming at me.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he reaches out for her, wrapping his arms around her thick waist. Her heart soars when she feels his hands clasp together, reaching all around despite her bulky winter clothes. Suddenly, all her troubles disappear. Work? Forgotten. Responsibilities? Forgotten. Everything is forgotten, except for him.

He chuckles, his own eyes misty with tears. He purposely quirks his eyebrow, replying, “I have no control over them. They speak whatever truth they know.”

Pushing herself against him, she lifts to her tiptoes, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Merry Christmas!”

“Stop talking and kiss me,” he commands, his voice deep and reassuring. “It’s been too long.”

His lips press softly against hers, his beard scratchy and ticklish. Melting into him, she parts her mouth, accepting his tongue to tease hers. Their kisses are salty from their tears, his mouth cold from standing on the brightly lit sidewalk, waiting for her. Hers turns up into a smile. Pulling back, she takes in his strong features, brushing her gloved hand over his cheek. “It’s only been about eight weeks,” she giggles.

“Sixty-seven days, but who’s counting?” He chuckles, pulling her closer, his hands roaming over her back, warming her up, and cupping under her ass.

Oblivious to the crowds bustling around them, holiday shoppers running last minute errands, the two continue their kisses, reacquainting their lips.

***

Two days later, Thalia stretches lazily, rolling over onto her hip. Throwing her arm out, she feels around on the empty bed. Shaking her head, she furrows her brow. It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. The best Christmas Eve sex ever couldn’t have just been a dream, could it? Her thoughts are a bit hazy from the amount of alcohol she’d had the night before, spending Christmas Eve with aunts and uncles, cousins she hadn’t seen in years.

She swallows hard, her throat raw. From the cold? Skating at Rockefeller Center till the late hours, or from the… She blushes, thinking about the enthusiastic sex she and Chris shared hours before, after returning to the hotel from Midnight Mass. It wasn’t a dream. The bruise around her wrist is too real, and she smiles up at the red ribbon still tied to the bedpost. Pushing thoughts of ribbons and last Christmas, a very different holiday in Munich, from her mind, she pulls on the satin sash till it falls on the bed next to her. She sighs, remembering how disappointed Tom was when she announced she was visiting her parents, alone. But she couldn’t leave Chris alone, not this Christmas, and she did her best to avoid an argument with Tom. The precarious situation had become a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ type thing between her and her men. It was getting harder and harder on her heart to make a decision, but she didn’t mind wracking up the airline miles. Both men kept her happy, and she craves their love and attention. Very satisfied, she thinks to herself, looking to the shiny red restraint.

Thalia swallows again, stretching like a feline and practically purring. She hears his soft chuckle echoing from the other room in the suite. Thalia reaches into the nearest box strewn across the floor, grabbing the nightshirt and cute socks he’d given her last night. Pulling them up over her knees, she pads out softly to the dimly lit room.

Seeing her string along the ribbon as she enters the room, his face lights up and he holds up his hand to quiet her.

“Yes, honey. That’s amazing! I’m glad Roger is taking time to teach you to ski,” he rolls his eyes. “You be careful okay? Could you imagine if you had to go back to school on crutches- No, no I don’t know what else Santa brought you, tell me.”

Thalia walks to the kitchenette, smiling at the pot of coffee already brewing and the tin from the cookie shop she and Chris found while exploring. Pulling up on the lid, she breaks off a piece of the Kitchen Sink Bar from Schmackary’s and rests it on a napkin. Pouring a cup, she nods to Chris. He shakes his head no, pointing to his mug on the side table, precariously balanced on a stack of folders. Opening the mini-fridge for milk and creamer, she sighs and mumbles to herself, “Grading papers on Christmas Day. This is our vacation, man!”

She looks over her shoulder when he lets out a low whistle. She shakes her ass, showing him her panties with Christmas lights all over them. They match the boxers she gifted him last night. He chuckles, and continues talking to Avery. Her heart aches for him, knowing he’s trying to keep himself together. Although so handsome perched in the chair, already dressed for the day in a festive sweater and slacks, his face shows his raw, beaten emotions. The man is tired.

She remembers their frantic calls as he tried to decide what was right for Avery. He’d been so upset when his ex-wife’s new boyfriend wanted to whisk them away for the holiday. Still somewhat friendly, the two adults had agreed as part of their shared custody to spend Christmases together while Avery was still young, believing in Santa. It’s his first holiday since the divorce without his daughter, the first in her little life they aren’t together, and Thalia can see it’s killing him. His pain is a palpable beat, echoing in the room, bouncing off the walls and slamming into her. She sighs, warring against the feeling so it doesn’t bring her down with it. Her number one goal for the next four days is to keep his spirits lifted until Avery joins them in the city to celebrate the new year.

“You wanna talk to Thalia?” She lifts her head at the sound of her name, her hand hovering over the coffee cup, ready to dunk in the breakfast bar. “Oh, ok. Well, you have fun then!” She completes the dunk and nibbles on the bar quietly as he finishes his call. “I’ll tell her and you can call back later to talk to her. Yes, we both miss you.” His eyes shine with tears. “Bundle up warm and take lots of pictures to send me, okay, Bug?” He nods his head, his eyes filling with tears. “You too, sweetheart. Merry Christmas. I’ll see you at the end of the week.”

Ending the call, he drops the phone on the table and rubs his hand over his face, wiping at his eyes and smoothing out his beard. Thalia finishes chewing quickly and wipes her hand on a napkin. She waits, giving him his moment of grief, her own heart aching. When he sniffles, she asks quietly, “Wanna talk about it?”

He clears his throat and rests his head back against the chair. “The guy proposed to her last night. He’s gonna be Avery’s stepdad.”

“Oh, shit,” she whispers stepping around the counter, moving closer as he runs his hand over his thigh.

“And I’m gonna have to share her more, and get used to her having a complete family-”

“Chris, don’t be silly. She’s already got a complete family, even if you don’t live in the same house. She’s got amazing aunts and a crazy uncle, a doting grandmother… And me. She’ll always have me. And no one can ever replace you as her father. Daddys are special.” She smirks when he snorts as the movement along his thigh becomes more of a pat, inviting her to join him. “Just because your ex remarries doesn’t mean you’ll lose Avery. And she knows you’ve always been there.”

“I’ve never taken her skiing-”

“No. You’ve taken her to Disney and Paris and on archeology sites, museums and college campuses. What’s tying two sticks to your feet compared to all that? You’re just wanting to sink in it. But I’m not going to let you.” She steps closer, her socks sliding on the polished hardwood floors.

His hand rests on his thigh, licking his lip. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Thalia crouches low and makes a run towards him and the chair, his eyes wide, arms open to catch her. She stops short enough to slide up next to him in her socks. Wrapping her arm around the back of his neck, she sits on his lap. “Didn’t think the old chair could take my weight,” she smiles.

“I’d brace the impact,” he says with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around her waist and grabbing around her knees when she settles in against him. “I’ve always got you, Niña.”

She nods her head to the stack of papers as he lazily drags his hands over her thigh. “I thought we said ‘no work?’ It’s Christmas Day!” She kisses the tip of his nose. “Merry Christmas.”

He grips her hip tighter. “Merry Christmas, Thalia. Thanks for not letting me wallow in my sadness… Being here with you, the best present.”

“Totally agree,” she whispers, sighing contentedly from the gentle caress of his fingertips over her dimpled thighs.

one gif to rule.gif

Lifting her hand to scratch his jaw, his gaze flickers to her wrist. “Oh, shit, honey,” he murmurs, taking hers in his, twisting her arm and raising the bruised wrist to his lips. He ghosts his lips over the tender skin carefully, blowing cool air over the red flesh. “I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

Thalia blushes, wiggling down in his lap. “I don’t mind… “ She shrugs. “A little pain’s okay.” She presses her wrist to his ripe pink lips and he kisses the tender spot sweetly. “I like it when you’re kinda rough, I can take it. You know that, you can’t break me, and you’re always so sweet after.”

“Like right now?” he murmurs, the vibration against her pulse causing her personal heat to rise. His lips continue to bite and nibble up her arm.

“Mmm… damn that feels nice,” she giggles, as his other hand slides over the silly printed panties.

Feeling her warmth, he groans, nuzzling his face into her wild morning hair. “Not as sweet as you’re gonna taste in about five minutes when I get you back in that-”

They jump at the pounding on the door, followed by shouts of “Merry Christmas!” and “¡Feliz Navidad!”

“Yeah,” he chuckles against her ear, stretching the word out. Still holding her, he stands up before gently setting her to the floor. He turns her in the direction of the bedroom, and gives a little push, smacking her ass as she walks away. “Get dressed. I’ll stall ‘em.”

From behind the closed bedroom door, she can hear him greeting her family. “What a wonderful surprise! We weren’t expecting you so early! ¡Feliz Navidad!”

She chuckles as she grabs her clothes and dashes into the bathroom.

*****

Leaning his head back on the cushioned seat, Chris rolls his face to the side and sees there isn’t anyone else around. “Niña,” he calls out, “how much longer are you gonna be?”

Her string of curses slide out from behind one of the red curtains. “Shit! Chris, can you come over here? The zipper is stuck.”

Shaking his head in amusement, he rises from the chair, picking up their shopping bags. “Which one are you in?”

All the fitting rooms look the same until her hand waves out from one at the end of the hallway. Chris looks over his shoulder, seeing a clerk assisting other shoppers on the sales floor, but the fitting room area is relatively empty. A quiet, secluded spot amid the hustle and bustle of the Christmas holidays in New York City? His grin devilishly lights up his face and he licks his lip. Reaching the curtain, he sits the bags at his feet and runs his fingers down the lush velvet drapes. “It’s gonna cost you,” he teases, his heart pounding in his chest.

“It sure is! This leather skirt you picked out is over $200 bucks and-”

“That’s not what I meant, Thalia,” his voice drops. He pushes the bags under the curtain with his foot, and checks one more time before sliding into the fitting room with her. He bites his tongue, trying not to laugh at her, shirt hanging from her waist, stuck in the zipper, her lush tits ready to pop out of the black lace bra she wears. “Well, this is quite a situation you have here, love.”

Her eyes are welled with tears. “We’re meeting up with my parents later for lunch, and I’m stuck here. Help, Chris.”

She still hasn’t realized how funny this is or how he intends to help. “Sweetheart, just relax,” he says, running his hand down her arm, squeezing the tips of her fingers. The thought cemented in his mind, he’s full of bravado and calm. “Turn around and I’ll help you.”

She turns to face away from him, and he can see every inch of her in the three way mirror filling up the corner of the dimly lit space. “It’s gorgeous on you. Hugs every curve,” he compliments her, running his hand down over her hip, smoothing the soft leather, landing just above her knees. She never believes him, but her size, her full, round curves are a part of her appeal, like a siren’s call.

“Not really something I can wear for work, Chris,” she sniffles. “It’s a ridiculous expense. Can you get it unstuck?”

Resting back on the little bench in the room, his hand still on her thigh, he pulls her back to him, leaning in for a better look at the zipper. Easy fix. The sheer fabric hem of her shirt is caught in the metal teeth of the lovely leather skirt, but it won’t be a problem. “I don’t know, babe,” he replies, fully knowing he can fix it.

Feeling slightly guilty at the plan formed in his head, he lifts his left hand, and his fingers brush against the small of her back. Chris tugs carefully at the zipper, careful not to rip her shirt. With his right hand, he curves his hand around her leg, lazily reaching under the skirt and gripping her thigh. He’s not at fault, he can’t help himself. His wickedly sexy girlfriend is standing in front of him, in a lace bra, a leather skirt, and boots, and she’s purely helpless.

He leans forward, kissing the small of her back. Thalia sucks in her breath, her head lifting up and catching his gaze in one of the side mirrors. “No,” she quietly whispers, her eyes wide.

His kisses continue across her lower back, along the waistband of the skirt, till he reaches her hip, where he bites her tender flesh. “Mmhm,” he hums, his hand sliding higher under the skirt, pushing her legs apart. She rocks on her heels and follows his direction.

“This is the cost you meant, oh, you asshole!”

He quietly clucks his tongue. “Can you blame me? Look at yourself. Open your eyes and really look. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Thalia. A model.” He ignores her snicker of derision as his fingers glide higher, fluttering against her thighs, brushing against the matching silk and lace panties. He bites his lip, turned on by her gasp, watching her breasts heave with excitement. His cock hardens and strains against his tight jeans. “So beautiful, lush. I wanna lick every inch of your body.”

To prove his point, he pushes the scanty fabric aside and dips his finger in her well, pulling out her wet and teasing her lips. She involuntarily pushes against his hand, yet whispers, “Not here, Chris, no.”

With a wicked grin, he pulls his hand out from under her skirt and raises it to his mouth, drawing in the succulent taste of her right off his fingers. He happily sighs and gently tugs on the zipper, freeing her shirt to fall to the ground. She takes a deep breath. “Too tight?” he chuckles.

“A little, but they didn’t have my size.” She shakes her head, frowning at his reflection in the mirror as he begins pushing the skirt up her thighs, bunching it around her waist. “Chris! We’re in public. After Christmas shoppers. What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught if you’re quiet,” he taunts, pushing her panties aside and spreading her open in front of the mirror. He admires the gentle folds of her lips, caressing over her smoothly shaved pussy. “Beautiful. My favorite color. Did you know it changes the more excited you get?”

His smoky voice fills the air and rather than dropping her head to watch his hands, she leans back, staring up at the ceiling, her legs already quaking and he’s barely touched her. Chris confidently wraps his arm around her waist, moving forward on the bench seat and pulling her to him, supporting her against his chest as his fingers slowly slide in and out of her hot, wet cavern, occasionally flicking against her hooded clit. She throws her arm to the side and braces herself against the mirror and with her other hand, grabs behind her, pulling up on his sweater at the shoulder, twisting it between her fingers. The fitting room is hot and small, Christmas carols still playing on the loudspeakers throughout the store, drowning out her occasional whimpers.

“Evans, you can’t just finger me and think,” she gasps when he pinches her tender bundle of nerves, falling forward, weak in the knees. She sucks in her breath. “You can’t think that’s a fair game. You have to be more of an active participant.”

Looking up into the mirror as his fingers dig in deeper, they lock eyes. A twisted smile brightens her face and she flicks out her tongue to lick her lips. Releasing his sweater, she slides her hands down his chest, reaching for the bulge practically throbbing under her hand. She fumbles with his belt while his fingers continue their caress of her inner walls, bringing her high, almost to her peak before changing his pace.

He chuckles, leaning forward and resting his lips against the small triangle of satin covering her ass. “Already working for top spot on the Naughty List next year?” He moves her hand away and begins to unbuckle his pants.

“If we’re gonna get arrested, might as well do it right.” Her eyes gleam. His eyes never leave her reflection, his gaze dropping to her hand squeezing and pulling her breast, teasing her fingers over the lacey cup. The nipple underneath pops up and Chris wants to grab it between his teeth. “Uh, uh, uhn…” she clucks quietly.

Wondering about the soundproofing of the tiny fitting room, he listens for other customers, realizing a clerk hasn’t been back in ages to check on them. “What makes you think we’ll get caught?”

Feeling the tip of his head against her rim, she slides on his stiff cock, spreading her juices before pushing back on him, sinking around him. He grunts and she giggles. “You make more noise than I do.”

She’s not wrong. He loves it when she’s confident, demanding, in charge. It’s such a turn on for him, and he can’t deny it makes him feel powerful to bring out this side of her personality. With his hand on her hip, he thrusts in and out as she rolls against him. In the mirror, he can see her flush, her freckles popping under her blushing skin, the flutter of her pulse at her neck. She spreads her legs further apart and he steps in closer to her as she drops her head and grasps the mirror with both hands for support.

His hand pushes down on her back, sliding up her spine and grabbing her braid, twisting it in his hand. The squishy sound of his cock plunging in her juices, soaking him, fills his ears, as does the tightness in her breath as she holds in her whimpers and whines. Each time he pulls away, she slams back on his cock, pushing him balls deep, skin slapping against skin. Each thrust sends pulses of delight rippling through his veins, strengthening him, as a deep guttural groan escapes his throat. God, how much he’s missed her! She tenses with every drag of his dick in and out, the head hitting against a particularly sensitive spot. His breath is hot against her neck and he smiles at the peppermint scent, remnants of the candy canes he’s sucked on all morning. Her knuckles whitten as she grips the edge of the mirror tighter, dropping one hand to flick across her clit. Her nails dragging across his sliding cock elicits another gasp from him.

“So close,” she whispers, her voice dripping with need.

He gently tugs her hair, lifting her head higher to look at him in the mirror, a sheen of sweat along her hairline, little curls popping free from their hold. His hand slides down over her belly, resting at the cusp of her mound. “You can do it,” he cheers, speeding up his thrusts as her hand vigorously punishes her exposed clit.

Through gritted teeth, she pants. “No, I can’t. Help me,” she whines. “It’s not enough.”

Sliding his hand down over hers, he pushes down on her fingers, adding more pressure against her clit. Her thighs tremble as her orgasm builds and he can feel the electricity flow through her as she comes, a wave of pleasure that knocks him backwards onto the bench. He doesn’t lose his connection with her as she falls into his lap and he continues thrusting upwards, pounding her sopping pussy as her slick washes over their hands. Her head rolls back against his shoulder and he can see pure bliss on her face, the tension leaving her body. He hears her mumble something, but can’t make out the words. Down from her high, her hands still and he slows, settling under her.

“A+, Professor Evans,” she critiques, “Attacked with gusto, completed in-”

“C-, Miss Bareo,” he chuckles in her ear, washing away the salty sweat on her neck with his tongue. “The task is incomplete,” he whispers as he slides out of her. He shakes his head at her look of confusion. “I’m not satisfied with the conclusion.”

“Oh, well, I guess I need to put in some extra credit then, don’t I, Sir?”

He shakes his head, fisting the leather skirt in his hand. “Hate that, it sounds so pompous.” He blocks all negative thoughts from his mind concerning her and that… that word. “‘Professor’ will do,” he chuckles darkly as she rolls her eyes.

Standing quickly, Thalia shimmies out of the offending article of clothing, kicking it to the side. She peeks out the curtain and smiles to a customer entering a room across the hallway. She puts her hands to her lips, motioning for him to be quiet as he slides a condom over his glistening cock. Her hair falls from it’s braid, wild curls sticking out around her head. Her chocolate brown eyes are blown black from lust. Her swollen lips are a bright pink, begging for more kisses. Chris loves knowing she’s so undone and he’s the cause of it. He grins when she looks down on him as though she’s famished and he’s the only meal she’s had in weeks.

The dark haired beauty straddles him, lining herself with his stiff rod. His eyes roll back as her hands wrap around his girth, sliding the tip of his head in her waiting slick. She drips down over him, and he can’t wait to be engulfed in her heat again. “Fuck me, Thalia,” he moans quietly, pushing down on her shoulders, impaling her in one slow thrust.

He pulls his sweater back, away from their mess and exposes his tummy as she grinds up and down on him, teasing and tugging at the little hairs on his lower belly. She rocks back and forth, pushing her endowments in front of him. Chris buries his face in her chest, wishing there was more time to rip her free from her bra. Again, she mumbles something he can’t hear and he smiles when she gasps as he latches onto her nipple, covered by the delicate lace. A loud sigh is pushed out of her as he thrusts up into her repeatedly. His large hand moves up her throat, squeezing gently before covering her mouth, the other continuing to hold her breast in place as he lathes and suckles her nipple, soaking the fabric.

Thalia shifts and drops her weight on him, pinning him to the bench and taking control. Her force and determination rattle him and his head thumps back against the wall. She leans forward, rubbing her clit against the base of his cock, pulling him in deeper.

Resting his head in the crook of her neck, he bites and sucks her flesh, anything to keep from making a sound. Bottomed out in this position, the pain of it so fucking good when she clutches his shoulders, rolling and twisting her hips to feel him right where she wants him. Chris drops his hands to her hips, guiding her into the rhythm they both need: long, slow strokes, her body rising all the way up until he almost slips free, then back down again. Her hips pick up speed until he swears under his breath.

“That’s it babe. Make yourself come all over my cock. So fucking good…”

She stills and looks down at him. Chris holds back a laugh and shakes his head. They both hear a rumble in reply, a series of small squeaks and a mirror rattling a few doors down. Her eyes open wide as he pulls her down against him, grinding her against his cock. The panting sounds of another couple fucking just a few feet away fill their space. Chris pulls Thalia’s mouth to his, whispering, “Ignore it. Come for me.” He kisses her with reckless abandon, trying to keep her in their moment.

The spell broken, he watches her teeter on the edge. She shakes her head, afraid she’s losing her momentum, but he wraps his hands behind her back, holding her heavy form and leaning her down towards the floor. Taking her offered nipple between his teeth, he clamps down with a tender bite and thrusts into her. She arches her back, pushing her chest to him. He shakes his head back and forth, his beard scraping her chest, pulling at the covered nipple, delighting at the small tear of fabric and her free flesh. He sucks harder, pushing into her as she holds tightly around his neck, biting into his sweater covered shoulder. The sounds of the other couple climaxing stirs him, turning him on even more than he imagined possible.

He can feel her pulsing around him, tightening and convulsing. Holding her tight, he pulls out and pushes in again, flicking his tongue over her exposed nipple, rolling it around. She bucks against him, her cries muffled into his sweater.

Getting a second wind, he stands tall, shifting her weight, resting one booted heel on the ground and one on the bench. She smiles at him lazily and nods her okay as he pumps into her faster, harder, pulling her down on his cock, her juices soaking them. He begins to unravel, pushing into her as fast as he can, spurting and filling the condom. Chris collapses against the wall and she leans against him, affectionately kissing him-

“Excuse me,” a pinched voice rings through the air. “You’ll need to exit the fitting rooms immediately. This is inappropriate behavior and you need to leave the premises before we call the police.”

Chris chokes on his laughter as Thalia’s eyes grow huge. He shakes his head, putting his finger to her lips. A commotion ensues down the hallway, and Chris quietly cleans them up with a t-shirt they purchased in another store, wadding it back up and putting it down in a bag. Thalia bites her lip to keep from laughing as they listen to two employees.

“When was the last time you checked the fitting rooms, Jessica? They’re a mess! And that couple was obviously fucking. Go get the the bleach spray and cleaners. You’re responsible!”

“Everyone was swiping up bargains, no one’s been back here to try on clothes.”

“No!” The older woman shouts. “They’ve been back here fucking! You’ll need to clean all the rooms.”

Dressed, hiding her guilty face, Thalia slides from the room unnoticed, items to be purchased in her hands. “Great bargains ladies,” she says when they turn to look at her. “Thank you for providing a wonderful shopping experience.”

A few minutes later, Chris meets her at the checkout counter with a few more items, including the leather skirt. “Don’t wanna forget this… All on my card, please,” he says to the clerk as he hands her the plastic. “Money well spent, don’t you think?” He winks at Thalia, playfully slapping her ass as she turns away from him, moving to wait for him at the door.

On the busy sidewalk, she wraps a scarf around his neck, shaking her head. “Is that off the little sex-list now? Exhibitionism, check! Voyeurism, check!”

“Oh, my God, Thalia! Were you as turned on by that woman’s whines as I was, that was fuckin’ hot!” His cheeks are still flushed from excitement.

She throws her head back and laughs, hitting against his chest. “Shit, what a fuckin’ perv you are!”

“Come on, how lucky was that? We coulda been caught, if it wasn’t for that couple. That was awesome.” He fist pumps the air while she shakes her head at him. “And you weren’t the person I kept hearing, it was her, wasn’t it? She kept talking, but-” Reading Thalia’s expression, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, yes. It’s off the list. I mean, not totally. Do we have a list? Like an official list, cuz there’s a few things we haven’t done yet, that I’d like to try, so-”

Laughing she motions for a cab. “Come on. Stacey got last minute tickets this afternoon and they went to see the Rockettes, so we have time to take our things back to the hotel. I could use a hot shower and clean up and-”

Opening the door for her when a cab pulls to the curb, Chris laughs. “A shower sounds good. I’ll join you,” he whispers in her ear as he pinches her ass while she crawls into the car.

******

“I’m really sorry that we’ll leave town before your daughter arrives, Chris. We were hoping to get to meet her,” Stacey smiles, resting her fork on the side of her plate. “I hope you don’t mind, but we picked up a few little things for her, as a gift. You said she liked sketching, and I found a little gift set with a sketch pad and pencils.”

Gulping his drink down, Chris rests his glass on the table. “You didn’t have to do that, that’s very kind of you Stacey.” He smiles hopefully at Thalia. “Maybe this summer, when Thalia visits, we can get out to Chicago. Avery’s always wanted to see Sue at Field Museum. She’s fascinated by archeology right now-” He laughs when Thalia mumbles, ‘I have no idea why,” and continues, “and I’ve been craving Portillo’s since the last time I was in Chicago, so-”

Everyone at the table jumps when Carlos Bareo thumps his fist down on the table. “You won’t come visit; she’s still with that other man, don’t fill your head with lies. Hombre, don’t you have the cajones to put a stop to this nonsense?”

Thalia shrieks in astonishment, “Dad, stop! We’re in public!” She looks around, grateful to see the quiet roar of the room drowns out her father’s outburst. From the side of her, she watches Chris grip his napkin, wadding it up in his first, but she’s too embarrassed to look at him.

“No, no I won’t,” he gestures wildly, his accent tired and thick. “I won’t ignore the elephant sitting in the middle of the table.” He shifts in his seat, looking sideways to his daughter, as if peering around the creature and pointing to Chris in the seat next to her. “He’s the one I’d pick for you, mija, a stable, hard-working man. A family man. Not someone with his head in the clouds and a stick up his ass.”

Thalia shouts, “Papá!” as Stacey places her hand on the man’s arm, calming him with his name, softly worded on her lips. “Carlos, it’s not for us to say.”

Rage rolls through her body. She hisses quietly. “Dad, it’s none of your damn business what I decide to do with my life. I have a good job, I make good money, I travel.” She avoids Chris’s stare. “I’m loved, and I’m happy. It’s not for you to decide if it’s right or wrong. You want me to be like Mom and just take off, leaving-”

Clearing his throat, Chris interrupts. “Carlos, I’ve gotten used to that elephant.” He gestures to the center of the table. “I’ll be the first to admit it’s not an ideal situation. I don’t like the idea of… of another man in Thalia’s life anymore than you do, but our ‘arrangement,’” he states, using air quotes, “allows her to live the life she wants. It lets me do what I need to do as well. I can’t just take off, and leave my daughter. So we have these stolen moments, like this holiday here with you both, and we can forget the outside world for a few days. And it’s enough. It’s enough till-”

“It’s not. It’s no good. You need to stop this,” Carlos rounds on Chris. “Marry her, and put an end to this. Take care of her.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Papá. I don’t need to get married to be cared for, or to have someone look after me-”

“Marry her,” Carlos demands.

Defeated, Chris folds his hands in his lap. “I’ve asked, Sir. I can’t make her-”

“Dammit,” Thalia pushes her chair back, stunned by this whole exchange and the anger filling her. “This isn’t 1952, with me in heels and pearls, needing to vacuum shit all day, waiting for a man to get home to make decisions. Fuck it, I’m out.” She stands. “Sorry, Stacey.” Turning to Chris, she drops her voice, “I’m really sorry. I just need to get some fresh air, alright? I’ll see you back at the hotel later.”

Chris watches her leave, unsure of what to do next. Lifting the napkin from his lap, he sighs deeply and lays it next to his plate.

“Son, I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” The older man clears his throat, followed by a hacking cough. He takes a drink and catches his breath. “I’m sick. She doesn’t know yet. I want more information before I tell her.” The man’s voice chokes. “I just want to know she’s in good hands.”

Somberly, Chris nods his head. “I know where to find her.” Reaching inside his suit coat, he extracts his wallet, leaving enough cash to cover the bill. “You raised an independent one… You should be proud of her, Sir. She’s in the top of her field, so many opportunities ahead of her. It’s not in me to tie her down, to hold her back.” He bows his head, images from the night before flooding his mind’s eye, tied to the bed, denying her orgasms. He rises from the table, hoping his blush and his memories aren’t written on his face for her parents to see. “This is the sacrifice I make, to love her. She’s right, it’s not for you to understand, but you have to leave her be.” He pats the old man’s shoulder and tilts his head towards her stepmother. “We’ll see you two at breakfast tomorrow, before we take you to the airport.”

****

A cup of hot chocolate thrust in her face, she looks over her shoulder as she takes it in her gloved hands. “How’d you find me?”

Walking around the bench, he motions with his cup to the open space beside her. She waves her arm to the side, inviting him to sit.

He looks to the grand building in front of them. “It’s New York.” He tilts his chin up. “You always said you wondered if the exhibits come to life.”

Thalia pushes against his shoulder, staring up at the Museum of Natural History. “Just a silly movie, I know it’s not real.”

“Maybe you just haven’t uncovered the right cursed item in your archeological finds,” he teases.

The couple sit in silence, watching the crowds meander down the streets, the horse drawn carriages weaving in and out of traffic before entering Central Park. The crisp night air sends a chill to her bones.

His soothing voice, raspy from the cold, breaks her reverie. The pain she hears in it cuts like a knife. “What is it you want? Why do we keep stepping around this? The pile of elephant shit gets too big to handle sometimes, Thalia… What do you want?”

She ponders his question in silence. Not that she hasn’t asked herself the same thing a dozen times. How the two men, such opposing personalities, have allowed this to continue for so long, is beyond her scope. In the cold, dark night, her shoulders sink. Her voice sounds small and child-like. “I want someone to tell me what to do, I’m tired of going back and forth. I don’t wanna hurt anyone, or get hurt. But I don’t wanna make the decision either. Someone always ends up hurt in whichever scenario I choose.” She turns on the seat to look at Chris. “I don’t wanna hurt you. If I was adult enough, strong enough, I’d walk away from you both. But instead, I want it all and I just want someone to give me a painless solution.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, stretching his legs in front of him. “Fine, you want a solution? Marry me. I know I asked before, but this time I’m saying it. I’m telling you. That’s what I want. Marry me. Stay here, in America. Raise Avery with me. We can move here, to the city. You could work there,” gesturing to the building, “see if it really happens, if they come alive at night.” Before dropping his hands, he pushes her hair from her face, tears stinging her cheeks in the cold. “Marry me. Pick me.”

She sniffles, turning her face in his hands to kiss his exposed palm. “It’s not that easy. It’s never been that easy.”

“Yes it is. Just walk away… I’m tired, Niña. You are too.” He chokes. “He… He is too. Gotta be… I know the University has offered you a spot next fall. They want you back in the states. I want you back, all mine. No more sharing, Thalia. You’re never gonna grow up as long as you keep playing this game.”

She rests her fists against his chest. “Threatening to walk away from me again, Evans?” Deflecting with humor, Jesus, Thalia, you honestly don’t deserve this man…

He chuckles. “Never works when I do. I always come running back, like a dog with my tail between my legs.”

She leans forward, her forehead resting on her fisted hands, her hair tickling his nose. “God, we’re so fucked up,” she chuckles.

“I meant it, Thalia. I’m not down on my knees. I don’t have the ring this time, but I mean it. I can give you a happy life. I know you have to go back to Paris, I know you’re contracted through the summer. But the teaching position is only the Fall semester while Lin-Hu is on maternity leave.” He rubs his hands together and tucks them under his folded arms. “Just promise me you’ll think about it?”

As his hands run over her back, caressing her and holding her close, she mumbles into his shirt, “I will. I’ll think about it. I promise. You’re too good to me, Evans, you really are.”

***

To keep with the timeline of the story, read the prologue stories, Goals and The Bet (written summer 2018) while waiting for the series premiere on January 2, 2019!

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Teaser: Being Thalia

main cover

Coming Soon!

It’s TRUE! @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom are working on a SEQUEL for Educating Thalia, involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans! The two rivals are still vying for their right to claim the lovely Thalia Bareo. The sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago is all grown up now, holding down a job in Paris, continuing her studies and freelancing as a consultant for museums around the world.

To kick off the premiere of the sequel, Being Thalia, we’ll take a look at Christmas vacations Thalia’s shared with her men in the last two years since her graduation.

A Christmas one-shot, featuring Thalia and Tom in Munich, will post on December 19 and the story with Chris in NYC will post December 23. The series premiere is slated for January 2, 2019!

Take a sneak peak at each NOW!

Munich, Thalia and Tom

Thalia stomps her feet against the cold and readjusts her scarf. She glances out across the pedestrian precinct of Munich, covered in a thin layer of snow that makes the rather harsh angles and grandeur of the South-German architecture look softer, straight out of a fairytale.

Any moment now, he’d be there. Tom.

Watching her breath dance in front of her, Thalia peers down the steps and tries to curb her anticipation. She came to Germany for an archeological conference three days ago and spontaneously decided to stay a bit longer and do some sight-seeing as she’d never been here before. When she mentioned it to Tom during their last phone call, he immediately latched on to the opportunity.

“Darling, why don’t I pop over there and we’ll spend Christmas together, surrounded by gingerbread and snow and people speaking in words with 30 letters?”

She laughed it off at first but found out soon enough that he was serious. He cajoled and pleaded, and finally let his voice go all low and deep.

“Just imagine all the ways in which I could keep you warm. All the naughty things I could do to you until you hear the bells chime and Santa knows that you’ve been a very, very good girl for your man.”

So she said yes, and now here she is, waiting for Tom to arrive. His flight should have landed about an hour ago, and he would take first an S-Bahn and then an U-Bahn to reach the Marienplatz square in the heart of Munich with its old buildings and shopping opportunities.

Shivering from a gust of wind, Thalia studies the church tower across the square, then glances back at the stairs leading up from the subway station. A familiar head emerges, lowered so she can only glimpse half of the man’s face. He’s dressed in well-worn black pants and a tight-fitting, soft-looking sweater in burgundy red, gloved hands fumbling to button up a black pea coat. The shoulder strap of a black knapsack is visible as his only baggage.

“Tom.”

At her words, the newcomer lifts his head and sees her standing there, his handsome face breaking into a glorious smile so she thinks for one moment she can hear angels sing. Butterflies dance in her belly as she steps closer. Tom’s long legs take the remaining steps two at a time and then he’s in front of her and whispers her name.

She feels herself enveloped in a bear hug, hears Tom inhale deeply before he nuzzles her hair. Though she’s opted for her favorite pink scarf and woolen gloves in a matching color, she’s not wearing a hat, and so he buries his face in her curls. His big hands stroke over her back. One slides higher and beneath the scarf to grasp her neck, and the somehow gentle yet possessive pressure of his long fingers around her throat makes her shiver.

******

New York City, Thalia and Chris

The Lyft ride pulls up to the curb of the hotel and she can see him standing there, stamping his feet in the cold, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Stop here and let me out,” she says to the driver. Thalia’s hands shake with nervous excitement as she points to the spot. She expresses her gratitude to the driver as a concierge rushes over to take her bag and she exits the car quickly.

The dark haired beauty nods to the attendant and he disappears inside with her things.

Pulling her coat down, she shakes her hair back, inhaling deeply, readying herself to see him face to face again.

“Hey, you,” Thalia calls warmly, her voice a bit shaky, inviting him to turn to look at her.

He spins on his heels, righting himself quickly. “Hi,” he whispers, the sound not quite carrying to her ears. The wave of love rolling off him barrels towards her down the sidewalk as she bridges the gap between them.

“Tell your expressive eyebrows to shut up.” She laughs, tears streaking her face. “They’re already screaming at me.”

Chris chuckles, his own eyes misty with tears. He purposely quirks his eyebrow. Shrugging his shoulders, he reaches out for her, replying, “I have no control over them. They speak whatever truth they know.”

Throwing herself against him, she lifts to her tiptoes, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Merry Christmas!”

“Shut up and kiss me,” he commands, his voice deep and reassuring. “It’s been too long.”

***

Educating Thalia premiered in March 2017 as a collaboration AU Fiction from authors @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom

Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston are rival professors at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago. The original story can be read in its entirety at:

avengernerdmom.wordpress.com/educating-thalia

Coming Soon!

The SEQUEL to Educating Thalia will preview in late December, featuring Christmas tales with professors Evans and Hiddleston, and Being Thalia will begin posting January 2, 2019.

Old, friendly faces… and some not so friendly ones. New rivals? New loves? Staying still or moving forward?

Start the adventure January 2, 2019!

*This post features no external links*

At this time the authors are determining the best way to post the story on Tumblr without worry or concern over using external links in blogs or the provisions for the ‘new and improved tumblr.’

To make sure you don’t miss a thing, follow avengernerdmom.wordpress.com!

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

 

 

 

Chasing Winter


The real life couple who inspired my published novel, Chasing Winter, are celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary soon! Help them celebrate by downloading their story FREE!
******

Dear Santa,
I think Daddy needs a girlfriend. He needs someone to take care of him. She has to cook and like outdoor stuff. She has to like kids, ‘cause I have a little brother. And she has to be pretty, like the Christmas Princess. I love that movie! I want Daddy’s girlfriend to be nice like the princess and be good to everyone. She can’t be mean, like the Ice Queen!
Oh, and there’s another thing I want. I’ll tell you when I see you at the Christmas Pageant!
Love, Jennifer
Grading the students’ papers, Noel Winter lays the child’s Christmas letter down on her desk and wonders exactly what surprises might be in store this Christmas… Jennifer’s father, Rex Presley, made quite an impression at Parent Conferences. And it had nothing to do with his plaid coat or ruggedly, handsome good looks. He’s got a chip on his shoulder, and his hands full, raising two kids on his own. So why can’t she stop thinking about him?

 

******

The novel includes my writer ‘trademarks,’ a strong, sassy female character, a handsome male hero who needs rescuing, humor, fluffy smut, and yes, even a shower scene!

Please download your FREE COPY today!

 

All my readers have been so wonderfully supportive! I’d love to see this novel push to the top of the charts in the next few days! Share the love, spread the news! My gift to you for encouraging me to keep up with my dreams- Chasing Winter for FREE!

Thank you!

Love,

Cass

Perfect Balance

perfect balance december 4 2017

Perfect Balance

an Emery&Chris story

by avenger-nerd-mom

Warnings: real life, Hollywood, fluff, language

Word Count: 1362

Image from weheartit.com

Thanks @moncun for the drabble prompt!

December 2017

Looking to the back window, Chris puffs up his chest.  She’s been giving him the cold shoulder all afternoon, and he didn’t do anything wrong!  Her strong Southern pride got riled again, and he opened his mouth, inserting his foot before he realized it was too late to backtrack. The spitfire redhead must really be angry. She didn’t even crack a smile when he announced he was going out to chop wood for the evening fire, and he had on his gray SHIELD shirt.  

With a few days off from filming, he’s in tip top Steve Rogers mode.  Things have been so crazy this fall, he’d promised a few days in a secluded cabin in the Blue Ridge mountains.  Swinging the ax down, he takes out his frustrations.  Married life hasn’t been easy, especially dealing with her grandmother’s death and a miscarriage, all within the first six months of their marriage.  But things have been good lately.  It’s nice to work close to home, to be at the house in Savannah two or three nights a week.  

Celebrity gossip and politics are both topics they try to avoid.  News of another celebrity figure had splashed all over the TV that morning, starting another round of discussions… 

He knows and understands her fear; she’s nothing if she’s not vocal.  Even he has days when he wonders if some old story will come around about a flirtation taken the wrong way.  He can’t change his past, he shrugs. If something comes out, they’ll just have to deal with it.  He’s never crossed any lines, but everything is under scrutiny these days.  Even a playful tap on the ass to a cute waitress, can be —

The sound of the log splitting enters his spirits, grounding him, pulling him away from Hollywood thoughts.  It’s nice to feel like he could work with his hands if he ever needed to, if he ever decided to walk away.  He tosses the split pieces to the growing pile and balances another log on its end, bringing the ax down with a satisfying swish.  

Maybe that’s what he should do.  He wipes his arm across his brow, wiping away the building sweat.  Just walk away from it all for a while, let himself grow soft.  He sighs.  The play will be a challenge, and Emery is looking forward to a stint working with a select group of teachers in the NYC school system to better their math instruction.  Some promotional work next spring for Marvel, and then some much deserved time off.  Scripts are coming in, but he hasn’t had the time to devote to reading them like he’d hoped during down times on set.  There are just too many people around, friends to hang out with, making it seem more like play than work.  Emery finds a way to Atlanta at least two or three days a week if he can’t get home, depending on her speaking engagements.  But days like today make him feel like their careers are taking a toll on their marriage.  

Bringing the ax down again harshly, he leaves it stuck in the log, pissed at the thought.  How can a marriage be stale after barely a year?

“Easy, fucker,” he mumbles, scolding himself.  “You don’t work hard enough.  She makes it too easy for you to let everything slide.”

He reaches for his beer and takes a long draw, the cold liquid frosty, sliding down the back of his throat.  But that’s just her way.  She’s a goddess among women, the only one to tame his wild ways.  She’s sweet and gentle, with a hidden wild side only he sees.  The perfect balance of naughty and nice…

The door swings open.  “I made soup… if you eat that sort of thing,” she tersely jokes, the door closing behind her.

Wiping his hands on his pants, he picks up a few of the chopped wedges, placing them in the crook of his arm, and carrying in his beer.  Entering the toasty kitchen, the small one room cabin with a loft smells like heaven.  “Grilled cheese?” she offers, turning back to the stove as she flips the toast in the pan.  Chris walks over to the hearth to set the logs near the fireplace for later in the evening.

“Sure,” he replies, moving to wash up at the sink.  “Two slices, extra gooey like you make it?”

“Of course,” she says quietly, tilting her head to his when he tenderly kisses her temple.

The pair eat quietly, talking over holiday plans and sharing news from both sides of the family.  Nothing stressful.  Chris offers to clean up their mess so Emery can finish up some of her school work for the day.  Lost in her work, she doesn’t even hear him tell her he’s going to take shower.

After the shower, he pulls on an his plaid pajama bottoms and an old sweatshirt she packed.  He tugs it down, smiling at the metal knight warrior on the front, the mascot from her old school.  He rubs his hands over his face.  Although it’s still early, by the clock, the colder night air makes it feel later than it is.  He reaches in his travel bag, and pulls out a small present he’s hidden away, just for her.

Stepping from behind the room divide, the main room is empty.  He tilts his head, and listens.  The bathroom sink is running.  She’s getting ready for bed too.  Placing the small wrapped parcel on the couch, he takes a few steps to the fireplace, stoking the fire, trying to keep the cabin warm.  

His heart leaps when she steps from the room, his plaid pajama top reaching down to her knees.  Em smiles shyly.  “Want some hot chocolate?” she asks, stepping toward the kitchen.

He grabs her arm as she walks past, pulling her into his lap.  He wraps around her waist and pushes her curls back with his other hand.  “You look cute in my shirt.”  It swallows her up; way too big, and with the top button missing, he can see her pink bra covering the sloped curve over the top of her breast.  He leans forward, practically knocking her to the ground as he holds her tight, reaching over the coffee table for the small present.

Righting himself on the hearth, he bounces her in his lap and she rests her head against his shoulder.  “What’s this?  We said no presents, remember?”

She’s too beautiful, and if she doesn’t unwrap the gift soon, he’s going to want to unwrap her.  Which defeats the purpose of this gift.  He runs his thumb across her sweet freckles, and quietly says, “I saw it and knew you needed it.  Don’t think of it as a Christmas present.”

“Ok,” she giggles, untying the plaid ribbon and letting it fall to the ground.  The crisp paper has velvety flocking and she runs her hands over the beautifully wrapped gift.  “This is lovely.  Did you do this?”

“For you; I googled how to properly wrap a present,” he chuckles.  “No dollar store gift bag for my girl.”

She laughs, peeling back the tape.  Seeing just a glimpse, she lets out of a squeal of delight. “Oh, my god, Christopher!  You didn’t?”

“I did.”  He picks her up and carries her to the couch.  Snuggling her to his side, he reaches for the old quilt on the back of the couch and throws it over her legs, covering up her silly Christmas socks.  He takes the gift from her, and opens it.  In his rich, Boston accent, he reads aloud, ““Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.’”

As the wind begins to howl outside the cabin, the couple take turns reading from the book Emery has longed to share with him.  As the fire dies down, and her reactions grow further apart, her breathing changes and his voice lulls her to sleep, safe in the arms of the man she loves.  Intrigued by the story, Chris continues to read silently to himself, the story of the boy who lived.

Click here to Part Two of this story, Vacation Time

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

Christmas Presents

Christmas Presents DEc 24 2016.jpg

Christmas Presents

An Emery & Chris story

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

by avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery have a little discussion about where to keep her Christmas presents in their new Boston home

Warnings: FLUFF

Word Count 1655

January 2019

Leaning in the door frame, arms crossed, he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying what he’s thinking.  Any little thing seems to set her off recently, and he’s too tired for another go.  It’s his own damn fault anyway, because he told her to choose any color she wanted.  And the smile on her face is so damn cute, he already knows she’s going to get her way.  Like she always does, and this time, he can’t hold back the laugh at his own thought.

“But kitten, it’s like, Army-khaki brown?  That’s not a color for a nursery; I mean if it’s a little girl don’t we want pink and-”

Emery spins on her heels and the light catches her hair just right, like a halo of flames around her head.  She squints her eyes at him, responding.  “Christopher Robert Evans, don’t you dare finish that sexist remark.” Teacher voice, he thinks, and not the sexy one…  And it’s not khaki, it’s called taupe, and I like it.  It goes perfect with my Christmas presents, perfect for the baby’s room!”

He coughs to bide his time and give her a moment to settle down.  He moves to her and bracing his hands on her forearms, he tugs them away from her rounded hips and pregnant belly and drops them to her sides for a less threatening pose.   “Don’t get defensive with me; I know what that color it’s called. I dated an interior designer, you know…” he winks at her playfully.

Sticking her tongue out at him, she chides him, poking him squarely in his solid chest.  “You don’t have to remind me; I know. You bring it up every time we redecorate, you ass,” she chuckles.  “Keep memories of your ex-girlfriends out of our baby’s bedroom, alright. Or that new accountant we need?  I know just the guy; he also just moved up here from-”

STOP.  Stop.  I can dish it out, but I can’t take it.  No more talk of exes, ever.  I promise.” He puts his hands up in defeat and holds his out for a pinkie swear.  He laughs when she links her tiny finger with his, tugging him to her lips for a quick, chaste kiss.  “But really, babe, this isn’t what I had in mind when I framed these and gave them to you.”

christmas presents.JPG

He stares up at the ‘vintage’ Captain America posters on the wall, in the style of old movie playbills.  When packing his old place in LA, he found lots of memorabilia he knew she would love and cherish, and he had framed these, thinking she would put them in the shared office in their new Boston home.  He never imagined she would plan the design of the baby’s nursery around them, picking out colors from the photos as accents.

“I know, but they’re just so beautiful.  I mean I guess we can move them to the office, or down in the den they’d look nice too.  But I just like the style,” she shrugs her shoulders.  “We don’t have to make a decision today, but-”

Chris sweeps his arm around the room, the cherry wood furniture, shiny and new.  His robust laugh echoes in the room.  “Babe, your ‘nesting’ kicked in.  Everything we picked out and ordered is already delivered and in place.  You’d really agree to changing the room?”  He smiles at the faint blush on her cheeks, drawing attention to her cute freckles.  Damn, she’s gonna get her way- but then the faint smell of fresh paint assaults his nose.  His tone changes. “Wait- who painted?  You aren’t supposed to be painting.”

She gets sheepish and moves to the dresser, folding some of the baby clothes already given to them.  She smiles at the collection of little clothing, many of onsies marked with shields and sayings like ‘My Daddy is a superhero!’

“Emery?  Dammit, please tell me you didn’t paint.  We talked about not doing stupid things while I’m away working.”  Now he’s the one standing in the center of the room, hands on his hips.  He feels the beginning of a headache.  They’d already had one little scare early on in the pregnancy and he was not willing to risk anything.  His tone drops, full of concern. “Babe, you know I can’t lose you; you have to be safe.”

Turning to him, she quietly calms him.  “Relax, babe.  I didn’t do anything.”  Her smile lights up the room when he moves closer and begins folding the the tiny clothes also.  They look so tiny in his strong, firm hands.  “Uncle Scott came and helped, and I haven’t stayed in the house.  I’ve slept at your mom’s.  I don’t wanna spend a night here until we can be in the house together.  He didn’t like the color either; he told me you’d hate it.  But he did have a suggestion if you absolutely hated it.”

“Yea, he’s dated  interior decorators too,” he pauses at her raucous laughter to his joke.  His eyes sweep over the shelves of Captain America bears he’s collected from fans over the years, and army toys from the forties, painted with shields.  Throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling briefly, he has to admit although it wasn’t where he pictured sitting and rocking their child to sleep, it was a beautifully done room.  “What? What’s his idea?”

Shrugging her shoulders, “It’s partly your fault, you know.  Every time I’ve tried to bring up the design, you say ‘after this’ or ‘after that.’”  She tugs his arm and pulls him over to sit on the plush couch under the window.  “I made it this far.  We’re good, honey.”  Placing their hands over her belly she smiles at Chris with his teary eyes.  “We’re gonna be okay.  I just know it.  You gotta start bonding.  You’re gonna be a dad, and meet THIS little one, even if I end up sitting on my ass for weeks…”  Chris wipes away a tear, fortified by his wife’s positivity. “I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, and I still don’t wanna know, but I know one thing.  Little One is a fighter.  Just like both of us; strong and hard as nails.  And with a name like Grant Lang Evans?”

Her hopeful question hangs in the air…

“No.  No.  I give in to all your little whims.  Even getting In and Out burgers and shakes at three am when I’ve got jet lag coming back from Singapore.  But no,” laughing and shaking his head, “If it’s a boy, that is not his name.  Do you have any idea how ‘fangirl’ crazy that sounds?”

She giggles, leaning her head against his strong bicep, tracing her fingers over his newest tat under the old ‘Loyalty’ one.  “I do like this tat,” she tells him.  “I wasn’t sure at first…but it’s growing on me…  Jelly bean, it’s tradition in my family for the oldest daughter  to use the middle names of both her grandfathers for the firstborn son.  I can’t help those names also happen to be tied to two of my favorite characters.” She giggles and rolls her eyes.  “But honey, Relax.  It’s not gonna be a boy.  I just feel it.”

Kissing the top of her head, he contentedly sighs.  “Well, then, I guess we better narrow down a girl’s name then, ‘cause you’re always right.”

“Yup!” she giggles, “And life would be so much easier if you would always remember that!”

Her sweet lilt is music to his years and he laughs, jostling her by his side.  “I’ll try to remember that, if you promise me one thing, kitten.”

Stifling a yawn, she giggles, “I don’t promise you anything in advance.  That gets me in trouble every time…”  She pauses at the memory of such a moment, which resulted in their pregnancy.  “What?  What are you trying to sneak?”  Her fingers brush down his arm taking his large hand in hers, brushing her thumb against the padded muscle in his palm.

“Promise me you’ll never lose that sweet Southern accent, no matter how long we live here in ‘yankee territory.’  And stop calling it that, too,” he chuckles.  Tickled by her touch, he gently extracts her hand from hers, moving to tuck his arm around her and pulling the blanket from the back of the couch to wrap her up.  “Nap time?”

“Uh, uh. Once a Southern belle, always a Southern belle…” She yawns, unable to avoid it this time.  “Will you stay here with me?”

“Of course, baby.  Always by your side… Till the end of the line,” he adds, needing a nap himself.

Moments pass in a companionable silence, before he whispers, “Emery? Are you still awake?”

“Hmm?” she hums, the sound of happiness evident in even the simplest noise.

“I still don’t know about the color and posters, but what was Scott’s idea?” His warm breath blows against the wispy curls on her forehead.

She giggles.  “With the brown, he thought giraffes or monkeys?  He doesn’t want to have to paint again.  And he was really glad the furniture was already built.  He had visions of sitting for hours and trying to put it together.  He’s so excited for another little one to love and he-.”

“Yea, we’re not naming the baby Scott either.  He can keep dreaming.”  Chris sighs, resting his head against hers.  “I’m sorry I haven’t been here.  Just three more weeks, babe, and this job’s a wrap…  But it’s good Scott is around when I’m not and it’s-”

“Honey, honey.  Shhh.  I’m really tired.  Can you just ‘Shhh?”

“Whatever you say, boss,” he whispers against her head.  “Tell Scott he won’t have to paint. The bears? The shields?  They look great.”  But he knows before he even finishes his last words that she is sound asleep against his side, her pregnancy zapping her more than they had anticipated.

Click here to read Surprises Ahead

To get to know Emery and Chris better, check out their novella, Georgia on My Mind, that introduces them as a couple, and their collection of short stories.

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Christmas Adventures: Naughty or Nice?

Christmas Adventures.jpg

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

By avenger-nerd-mom

Actor Chris Evans spreads holiday cheer

Warnings: NSFW, language, fingering, oral sex, penetration

This is written as a “choose your own adventure” type story.  The opening to the story is the same for both pieces, but when I reached one point in the story, I saw two possible endings.  And since I couldn’t decide which to use, I wrote both.

Opening Word count: 1859

“Hey pretty girl, wanna sit on Santa’s lap?”

The voice calls out over the din of the room.  The hospital Christmas party.  The little boy balanced on her hip has finally stopped crying, so she sets him down, balancing him on his feet before he toddles away, gripping his candy cane.  Her hands are sticky. Her feet are tired.  She doesn’t want to seem like a grinch, but the days before Christmas in a child’s sick ward are difficult days.  She does not need this crap.  She looks at her watch, seeing she’s well over her step count for the day, and realizing it’s only about twenty minutes before she can clock out.

“Are you on the naughty or nice list?” his voice calls out to her again.

Damn. Where did they hire this creep from?  Another child walks past him, smiling and thanking ‘Santa’ again for her new doll.  The nurse steps closer, but staying out of Santa’s grasp.  “Listen, here fat boy. I’m not interested. And if you-”

She shuts her mouth when she sees the head nurse giving her the evil eye.  “God, I hope you’ve just been creepy to the nurses and not the kids.”

In his incredibly ‘realistic’ costume, his belly laughs.  “I promise, I’m not a sick bastard.  I just have a thing for pretty nurses with dark hair.”

She rolls her eyes, moving to break up a fight between two little boys over a set of Legos.  Santa reaches in the big sack of toys and pulls out a matching set and offers it up to the older boy.  She begins to move away but pauses when the younger boy begins to complain that means the older boy got two presents from Santa.

She watches as Santa kneels down next to the boys and the littlest one, about five rests on his extended knee, pouting.  “Jonathan,” Santa says in a low authoritative voice.  How does he know his name? She wonders.  “Brandon has an older brother that always comes to visit.  What if we let Nurse Janelle keep the basketball here, so when Brandon’s brother visits, you can all play basketball together?”

The little boy chews on his lip for a minute, looking at Santa, Brandon and the dark haired nurse.  “You mean like a present for all of us?” he asks Santa.

Santa ruffles the top of his hair, careful not to bump the IV pole attached to the tubes in the boy’s arm. “For everybody,” he nods.

The little boy wraps his arms around Santa’s neck for a quick hug and calls ‘thank you’ as he runs off to get a cookie.  The older boy hands the ball to Santa, who hands it to the Nurse.

Taking the brightly colored ball, she tucks it under her arm.  “How did you know their names? About Brandon’s brother?”

Adjusting his fake beard, he laughs again.  She tries to ignore the pleasant tone and steps back when he reaches to her.  He drops his arm, defeated he can’t charm her.  “I’m Santa.  It’s my job to know the names of all the kids.  The ones here at the hospital are especially important to me.  And I try to know all their names and wishes…. Just like the nurses.  Nurse Janelle.  And you’re wishing for a Disney trip?”

Who the fuck is this guy?  “My scrubs are covered in Mickey.  That’s not hard to deduce, fat boy,” she pokes him in his foam padded belly, catching sight of her watch again.  She just wants to go home. Take a hot shower. Order pizza. Have a beer.  Be alone for the next three days.  He grabs her jacket sleeve, turning her wrist to see Mickey on the watchband as well.

“Call it a lucky guess?  So what are you doing after work.  I’m guessing you’re off now? You’ve been watching the clock for the last hour.  If you’re not bus-”

“Nurse Janelle! Nurse Janelle!”  Santa steps back when an adorable little blonde runs between them, tugging on the nurse’s jacket.  “It’s time; you’re leaving?”

Janelle squats down to the child’s level.  “Yea, sweetie, but I’ll be back.  You know that.”  While she talks to the girl, she holds her tiny hand, discreetly checking the child’s pulse to make one last note for the day.  “I’ll be back on Saturday, and you can tell me all about your Christmas, ok honey?”

The little girl looks over her shoulder at Santa, smiling.  She steps closer to Janelle and whispers in her ear.  “I asked him for a pony. But it can’t come inside the hospital.  How do you think he’ll do it?”

Janelle giggles at the wisp of breath the little girl creates against her neck.   Moving back, she looks in the innocent bright blue eyes.  The eyes.  Something jumps in her mind.  She shakes her head as though she knows it can’t be right.  Knowing the child’s parents have made plans to take her out of the hospital for a sleigh ride on Christmas Day, she firmly replies, “Santa always works magic.  I’m sure he’s already figured it out.”

She hugs her sweetly before rising tall.  Tugging her scrubs in place, she turns to go quickly before any more of the kids catch her.  “Sure I can’t change your mind?” Santa asks.

Sighing, she huffs, “I’m sure.  Thanks, but no thanks, Santa.”

Making her quick get away,she shuffles down the hall quietly, keeping her head low, just waiting to get to the workroom to clock out, hoping there are still some cookies left that haven’t been touched by children.  She loves her job, but off duty, she does not want kid germs on her food, especially during the cold winter months.  If she’s sick, she could be off the job for days, just to keep the patients from becoming more sick.

The workroom itself is festive with the group getting ready to go on shift, and those getting ready to leave for the night.  Washing up quickly, she takes the cookie and hot chocolate her friend Chani offers her.  Nibbling on the wonderful sweet she moves to the counter to clock out before plopping down on the couch, joining her friend for a quick rest before heading out into the cold night.

“Janelle, girl, come with us.  Honey, you can’t sit at home and mope for the next few days,” Chani prods.  “I’ve got a slinky black dress perfect for you! Hit the town with us.”

“Slinky black dress? I’m all for that.”  His unmistakeable voice fills the space.

Looking up, Janelle can’t believe it.  Santa was played by none other than Chris fuckin’  Evans.  “Sweet Jesus,” she mumbles under her breath as he leans forward to give Chani a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, good-lookin’!  I’ve missed you!  I’m so glad you got to come play Santa,” Chani laughs, letting her hand rest against his chest a moment longer than necessary.  “I see you’ve been staying away from the Christmas cookies this year, ‘Santa.’”

“Gotta stay in shape, ya know.  It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” he laughs.  Eyeing the table of sweets, he reaches for the smallest cookie he can find, the sugar cookie kind with a chocolate kiss pushed in the center, and pops it in his mouth before sitting on the coffee table, trapping Janelle’s knees between his legs. He taps her knee purposely with his.

“I’m sure you’d look charming in an LBD, because I’m not wearing it.  You two know each other?” Janelle asks indifferently, taking a plate of goodies one of the other nurses hands to her.  She nibbles on a white chocolate covered pretzel totally ignoring the good looking actor sitting in front of her.

“This handsome fella came by the clinic I used to work at in Chicago once and we’ve been friends ever since.  He was the first person I knew when I came to Boston,” Chani explains, stealing a cookie from Janelle’s plate.  “HE’S the guy I’ve been trying to set you up with for months.  I think you two are perfect for each other.”

“I am NOT the same animal as him,” Janelle replies quickly, almost feeling bad about it when she sees him wince at the comment.

Recovering quickly, Chris rubs his hand over Chani’s knee.  “Aw, honey, thanks.  But I get the feeling she doesn’t want to be set up, even with a great guy like me.  Don’t believe everything you read,” he teases as he winks at Janelle.  “Come go with us; it’ll be fun. I’ll get changed out of this Santa suit-”

Looking him squarely in the eye, Janelle interrupts.  “Take away the suit and you’re still just a millionaire, playboy, philanthropist… I’m. Not. Interested.”

Chris clutches at his heart, pretending to be hurt.  “Oh, that’s a good one, sweetheart, like I’ve never heard that before.”  She can see in his eyes her dig cut just a little bit.

Chani shakes her head, stage whispering, “Girl! What is wrong with you? Chris Evans is asking you to go out with us!  Come on; you have no need to rush home.”

“I don’t know Chani, maybe she has cats to take care of,” Chris dismisses her as he gets up and shakes his arms out of the heavy Santa jacket.  Like the abs in his too-tight tshirt are going to change my mind…

“Oh, that’s original.  No wedding ring, early thirties, so you automatically assume I have cats.  Nice.” He shrugs his shoulders.  “I have a boyfriend; Chani you know I have a boyfriend.”

“That douchebag?” Chani rolls her eyes, setting her plate on the coffee table, waving goodbye to a few of the nurses leaving for the night.  She signals to the girls she plans to meet with later.  “If he’s so great, why have I never met him?”

Janelle hits her head against the back of the couch, accidentally thumping it against the wall.  She screws up her face and rubs at the tender spot.  “I can’t help he lives outta town and it’s easier for me to go visit him.”  She glances to Chris.  “But if you wanna have this discussion again about how unsuitable you think he is as a suitor for me, can we do it in private? After Christmas?”

Sheepishly nodding her head, Chani apologizes.  “Sorry.  That was rude.  I’m sure if you like him, he’s not a total douche.  But leaving you alone at Christmas totally sucks and I really wi-”

Janelle stands up, bumping into Chris, nearly tripping over his feet and he places a hand on her waist to keep her from falling.  She jerks away quickly from his touch.  “Chani.  Enough.  Babes, I love ya.  But I am going home.  To call my boyfriend,” she says pointedly to her friend.  “And to feed my cat,” she addresses to Chris.  “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Stalking to her locker, she quickly grabs her coat and gloves, murmuring her goodbyes and good wishes of a holiday season to her coworkers.  She glares back at Chris before she leaves the room, resisting the urge to flip him off.

Click here for “Naughty” ending, NSFW, 2784

Click here for “Nice” ending, Fluffy NSFW, 3365

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Christmas Adventures: Naughty

Click here for the Opening of the story

Two hours later, she picks her little black bag off the side table, the cat jumping up at the sound of jingling keys.  Fuck this.  I’m going out.  Checking her phone again, she grabs her coat and scarf, and heads down to the lobby to wait for her Uber ride, ready to follow the directions Chani shared with the girls at work earlier in the week.

#

Greeted at the door of the home lavishly decorated for the holidays, Janelle has no idea where exactly she is, but passes over her coat and takes the ticket claim number she is handed.  Wandering through the holiday revelry, she calls out hello to friends from work, although confused by who all the other people might be.  The house is packed. She makes small talk with friends as she moves through the house, looking for Chani.  Walking into the kitchen, she smiles at the sight of Chani and Chris dancing around the room, manning the blender and mixing drinks.  Stepping up behind the handsome actor, she places her hand on his hip, reaching around him for his glass of Scotch, knocking it back swiftly.  He grabs her wrist, face unseen, turning and pausing when he sees who it is.

“Didn’t expect to see you here!” He shouts over the music, smiling at Chani’s bouncing excitement with the arrival of her friend.  Calling out to the man on the other side of the counter, he yells, “Scott, man!  Turn it down; we’re talking here.”

Scott, whoever he is, looks her up and down, and she puts a hand on her hip defiantly.  She doesn’t need some pretty boy checking her out.  She knows she looks good dressed in all black, jeans and v-neck sweater.  “Nice boots,” he compliments, giving a thumbs up appraisal before reaching over to quiet the music.

Turning her head to Chani, she smiles questioningly, ignoring the heat of Chris’s stare, his eyes obviously curving over her sculpted ass in the designer jeans she had to have last pay day.

“Don’t mind him.  He’s gay- and Chris’s brother.  He likes to critique our clothes. You look fuckin’ hot, baby girl,” she mocks her worship, raising and lowering her arms.  She nods at Chris as he takes the empty glass from Janelle and refills it, handing it back to her.  “What about the boyfriend?” she asks.

Swirling the amber liquid around in her glass, she watches as Chris steps aside for Scott to take over blender duties and moving closer to her. The Santa hat cocked on the side of his head makes her giggle and shake her head.  She takes another long draw from the small tumbler.  Pursing her lips and biting the inside of her cheek, she sighs, “Well, seems he forgot a few weeks back he had a girlfriend.”  Dropping her voice, she looks away from Chani, not wanting to see her look of sympathy.  “I ah… I just wanted to get through the holidays before I started telling people.”

She finishes the rest of the drink, resting the glass on the counter.  “Food, I need food.  All I’ve eaten today were cookies at the hospital.”

“Oh, my god, baby, let us get you something.  That asshole cheated on you?” Chani questions.  “Where is he? I wanna kick his damn head in.”  She guides Janelle into another room, two large tables covered with food.  “Plate?” she demands of Chris, working like a team, friends who’ve known each other well for a long time.  Accepting the plate, she begins to fill it full of real food for her friend.  “I’m sorry you didn’t tell me; I didn’t know.  I wouldn’t have teased you.”

“Honey, it’s okay.  You had no idea.  I didn’t want to bring anyone down.  He was an ass, you were right… I didn’t need to hear ‘I told you so.’” Pointing at the cheeseball and crackers, she motions for Chani to add more to the plate.  Looking around the array of food, the room decorated for the holidays, she pulls herself back into the moment.  “Where the fuck are we anyway?” she laughs.

“Belongs to a millionaire, playboy, philanthropist…” Chris shares modestly, shrugging his shoulders.  “I’m not just a dick that plays Santa for sick kids.”

Rubbing her forehead in embarrassment, “I’m a bitch.  I shouldn’t have said those things today.  What you do for those kids at the hospital, for us nurses?  It’s really amazing.  I’m sorry; it was out of line.”

“No harm done.  I like feisty women,” he chuckles, smacking her on the ass, preparing to walk away.  “And I am kind of a dick.  See ya around, Disney.”

Mouth agape, Janelle watches with confusion as he walks away, his jeans hung low on his hips, the fabric tight on his ass as he moves.  “Chani, what the hell just happened?” she asks, welcoming the plate of food into her outstretched hands and picking up a chilled water bottle.

Chani leads her dark haired friend to a quiet alcove down the hallway.  Resting in the window seat, Chani kicks off her shoes, tucking her feet under when she sits.  “He’s not a bad guy, Janelle.  You just announced your so-called ‘boyfriend’ cheated on you.  He’s giving you space; but he was disappointed after meeting you at the hospital that you didn’t plan to come-” she bursts into laughter and Janelle giggles with her, trying not to choke on her food.  Rocking with laughter, Chani can’t catch her breath, and Janelle just shakes her head.  Waving her hands at her face, Chani calms herself.  “Oh, girl!  That was too funny.  Bad choice of words; I should say he was disappointed you didn’t plan to attend the party… But ya know, he’d also be disappointed if you didn’t come…”

“Chani!  Shush!” Janelle admonishes.  “People will hear you,” she giggles.  “Oh my god though, I so need to get laid.  That’s my Christmas wish.”

The girls high-five and collapse into another fit of giggles.  Their easy camaraderie attracts other friends to them and before long the little quiet alcove has turned into its’ own private party.  One of the girls turns up the playlist on her phone and beers are passed among the friends.  Janelle passes on the drinks, losing herself in the music, dancing from song to song.

Arms raised, snapping to the beat, she dances among her friends, remembering the fun she used to have with them on Friday nights.  Like the Grinch, she feels her heart grow surrounded by their love and support, but it’s the firm hand on her hip that adds a warmth to her she hasn’t truly felt in ages.  Without even looking she knows it’s Chris.  She moves into him with the beat of the music and his strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close to him.

Her back melts against his solid chest and she sways a bit more to the music, brushing her ass against his groin, bumping against him with each rhythm change.  His hands roam across her stomach, the soft sweater caressing her skin and awakening inner desires she’s tamped down in an effort to get through the holidays alone.  His breath is hot against her neck as he nuzzles his nose in her hair.  His hands dig into her flesh, pulling up on her sweater, trying to find her skin.  The crowd swells around them and his bold advances are unseen to observers.  His deft fingers skim the soft plane of her belly, tugging at the snap of her jeans, popping it open and grazing his fingertips along the band of her jeans.  Her skin is on fire with his touch and her heart races. Sighing contentedly, she lowers her arm around the back of his neck and grasps the wisps of hair on the nape of his neck.

As the song changes, she spins in his arms, turning to face him and reconnecting their bodies as soon as possible.  “Nice package you got there, Santa,” she teases, looking up into his bright blue eyes, sparkling in the glow of the Christmas lights in the window.

He chuckles, sliding his hands down to cup under her ass cheeks, rising her up on her tiptoes to fit better against his stiffening cock.  “Christmas kink?  Nice.  I can do that…” he purrs.  “What do you want for Christmas, baby girl?”

On her tiptoes, she whispers in his ear, puffs of warm air against his neck, delighting in the slight shiver she feels run through his body at her deliciously sinful wish.  Balancing herself with her hands on his rock hard chest, she turns her head slightly to the left, her lips landing against the soft spot below his ear.  Her mouth slightly open, she quickly flicks her tongue against his warm skin as his grasp tugs upwards on her ass again, his cock harder than before.

Dropping to her flat feet she pulls back and winks at him, surprised to see a small blush of pink to his cheeks.  He blinks quickly, his dark lashes against his pale skin, looking around to see if anyone is watching them.  “Chani was right.  We’ll get along famously,” he laughs, taking her hand in his and leading her through the crowd.

#

The upstairs of the house is quiet, thanks to friends of his sitting at the top of the steps, keeping people away.  Janelle can’t help but notice one of the guys giving Chris a ‘thumbs up’ as they walk by.  Silently she hopes to herself this isn’t a normal situation, but he’s so Hollywood, how would she know.  She’s a little shocked by her own brazen behavior, but when would she ever get a chance like this again.  Her hand is comfortable in his and his thumb strokes gently over the back of her hand.  Occasionally he looks at her sideways and offers her a smile, putting her at ease. She catches glimpses of his personality as they walk down the hallway, gym shoes on the floor, a ballcap and glasses on a side table, photos of tourist destinations and family line the walls.

Pausing at a doorway, Chris opens the door and swings his arm to invite her in.  “You go first, Disney.”

She giggles at the nickname, brushing past him purposefully as she steps inside.  A Christmas tree takes up a large corner of the room, lighting the dark space and she stops just inside the doorway, not really sure what to do next.  What the fuck am I thinking? She asks herself, her mind swirling.

His hands come to her hip and he moves her to the side, closing the door before stepping in front of her, sliding his hands around to still rest on her hips.

Taking a deep breath, she moves three steps back against the door and he steps with her, drawn like a magnet to her dark eyes gleaming in the Christmas light. Reaching behind her, she turns the lock, a wicked smile forming at the tiny click, keeping the rest of the world out. The pretty nurse leans forward into his space, liking his cocky smile and licking her lips at the last second before kissing him, momentarily drawing his eyes to their glistening wet.

His eyes dart back up to hers  Not wanting to play her game, he tugs her belt loop forcing her  closer to him as his lips land on hers aggressively.   Brushing his beard against her skin, he kisses her roughly, his tongue teasing against her ripe lips. She doesn’t wait long before opening to him and kissing just as fiercely, biting and pulling at his swollen bottom lip in the process.  At the power of her mouth, a soft moan escapes his lips and her own sound mimics his in the quiet room.

Breaking contact, Chris sinks to his knees, gliding his hands down her tight denim clad thighs, smiling up at her from below.  Her head lowers as she looks down on him with a thoughtfully . curious grin.  At the back of her calf, he slowly unzips the heeled boot and pulls it off as she balances against the door.  His hungry look adds to her fueled desires and she can feel her panties get wet, shifting to rub them between her lower lips when he sets her foot to the ground, removing the other boot.

Tossing them both aside, his hands slide back up, creating a  tickle behind her knees, but she holds in her laughter.  This is hunger. This is power. This is different from anything she’s ever done before.  His hands reach up under the hem of her sweater, dipping his thumbs in the waist of her jeans and pulling them slowly down her legs.  He’s gonna draw this out… His breath is warm against her exposed flesh and goosebumps break across her pale skin.  Aiding in helping her to step out of them, he looks up again at the dark haired beauty in her black fuzzy sweater and red lace panties.  “Damn, that’s a beautiful Christmas picture… Red lace, how festive,” he teases.

Rising up on his knees, he reaches around to her hands still resting on the doorknob.  He holds them tightly behind her back, both her small hands in one of his.  She recognizes her smell of sex in the air at the same time he does and his eyes grow dark.  Angling towards the prize, Chris brushes the tip of his nose against the evident wet spot, inhaling deeper.  “You smell delicious and already so wet for me…”

Tilting his head to to the side, he presses his lips to her covered mound.  Boldly, he parts his lips and laps his tongue up and down the saturated silk.  Impulsively he stiffens his tongue and pushes the damp fabric between her folds, intruding against her sensitive clit.  With a sharp gasp, he feels her knees give way so he supports her with his other hand as she falls forward.  Letting her hands free, he smiles when she braces herself on his shoulders.  His hand now freed as well, he slips his fingers under the lace trim, pushing it aside and sliding his tongue through her wet slit.  “Sweet Jesus, yes,” she whispers, digging her nails into his shoulders.

Encouraged by her enthusiastic praise, he continues to lap at her pink walls, her sweet juice dripping to his beard.  From her position she rocks against him, using his tongue to fuck her, listening to her moans rise and fall.  Her sounds of delight change, becoming more high-pitched but still not loud enough to be heard by party-goers downstairs, when he surprises her by plunging two fingers inside her wet cavern.  His thick fingers penetrate deeply, working in tandem with his mouth.  When her pussy begins to pulse, grasping around him, he pulls away from her, not knowing her limitations. Lifting his shirt to wipe the sweet mess from his face, he licks his lips and raising his eyes to hers.  “You taste as good as you smell… You good?” he asks kindly, his own need echoed in his voice.

“Uh, huh,” she replies still weak against him.  “You’re not done; you didn’t finish me… I need more.”

Tugging on the shoulder seams of his shirt, she pulls it over his head as he rises to a standing position, pulling her sweater off her at the same time.  He wraps his arms around her full waist, lifting her off her feet and bringing her up to his eye level, placing his lips on her mouth, his tongue teasing her lower lip.  She stifles a moan, pulling back and wiping her own wet he shared with her from the corner of her mouth.  Wrapping her legs around his waist she begs, “Take me to the bed.”

“I’m all for granting Christmas wishes,” he replies with a devilish grin, turning on his heels and dropping her at the foot of the bed with a bounce.  Kicking off his shoes one at a time, he watches her eyes sweep over his solid chest, taking in his tattoos while he unbuckles his pants.  Shimmying out of them, he reveals maroon colored Calvins straining over his hard bulging cock.  He chuckles when she crab crawls backward on the bed and he chases after her.  Grabbing her ankle, he yanks her down the bed, climbing over top of her.  “Whatdya say I unwrap the rest of my Christmas present?” he challenges.

Still panting with her unmet need she wraps her leg around his thigh and sliding her silky smooth leg up and down his she purrs, “You can open your presents now… I think you’ve been a very good boy.”

Click here for “Nice” ending of the story

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Christmas Adventures: Nice

Click here for the Opening of the story

An hour and a half later, tired and exhausted from work, she trudges up the stairs with the bags of groceries to her tiny apartment, admiring the wreath on her door.  She pauses momentarily before inserting the key into the lock, smiling to herself.  Entering directly into the living room, she can hear the sounds from the kitchen.  The wonderful smell fills her nose and walking past the beautifully set table she grabs a sugar cookie with a chocolate kiss in the center and pops it into her mouth.

Leaning against the door frame she watches her man at the stove.  He fluidly moves, shifting his weight from side to side as he reaches to the shelf of spices, adding something to the steaming pot.  He hums along quietly to the Christmas music on the radio and she sees the muscles tense in his back when he realizes she’s there.  He relaxes, resting the spoon on the edge of the pan; the smell of the bubbling sauce makes her stomach growl.  Wiping his hands on the Christmas towel, he turns to her with a smile.

“So, do all your friends think I’m a douche?”  Chris laughs as she steps into his open arms.

She shakes her head, laughing at him.  “No, not all of them.  Nancy thinks you’re a dick, hiding a secret family in New Jersey or something.”

“Oh, that’s great. Just great.”  He kisses the tip of her rosy red nose, cold from the winter night.  “We agree to keep things private, because you don’t want to be in the press, and I’m totally fine with that, but now all your friends think your boyfriend is an ass, and they probably secretly talk about you behind your back, wondering if it’s time to stage an intervention.”

“Well, they might want to after today’s performance when they find out you’re my secret boyfriend!  That didn’t help your cause any… What was that about?”

Chuckling, grabbing her ass, he says, “What?  You didn’t like my naughty Santa?”

“You were such an ass…,” she giggles when he jumps at her cold hands tucked inside his shirt collar.

“I couldn’t help it.  Once you walked into the kids’ game room, I wanted to get your attention.  I really thought you knew it was me, but you were so focused on the kids…  It was amazing to see you work, babe.  And then I figured you didn’t want Chani to know we knew each other so I kept up the act, you just followed my lead.”  He shrugs his shoulders.

“Like always.” Laughing, Janelle runs her hands over his jaw, scratching at his beard.  “I really had no idea it was you; I couldn’t figure out how Santa knew the kids’ names?  Cuz I talk about them all the time, right?” She smiles, when he nods his head.  “I felt like such an idiot when you came in the work room.  I don’t expect to see my superhero boyfriend at my place of work, but I’m so glad that-”

Chris places his hands on her face, delicately holding her while he tries to quiet her chatter.  He leans in for a kiss, slow and gentle at first, caressing her lips, reuniting his mouth to hers.  “Stop talking,” he whispers in puffs of air against her mouth, charging in with more kisses, each one with more urgency than the one before beginning to warm her up.

She can taste the chocolate on his lips.  “How many of those cookies did you eat?” she giggles, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth as they kiss.

“They’re my favorite.  I think I’ve had about five.  We’ve got to get rid of them,” he chuckles.

“I’m sure your kids in New Jersey will like them,” she teases poking him in the ribs. His laughter fills the room.

As her hands run down his tight chest to the waist of his pants, settling on his hips, his hands unbutton the front of her heavy wool coat.  Reaching inside he places his warm hands on her breasts, cupping her and giving a needing squeeze.  “You feel so good,” he whispers.  “I missed you too!  I wanted to surprise you at work.”

He slides the coat down her shoulders and it drops to the floor as their mouths continue to comfort each other and get reacquainted. His hands grasp her forearms, lifting her up on her toes. She runs her tongue against his pouty bottom lip and feels him shiver at the contact. His kisses make her ready for more.

“I love the feel of your lips on mine,” he says quietly, his nose brushing against hers, still red and cold from the Boston winter air, pushing her against the counter. Turning the heat down on the stove, he slides the pot off the burner.  Sliding his lips across her jaw, he captures her tiny earlobe between his lips, taking a quick nip.  “You need to warm up.  I’m stuffed on cookies; can we eat later?”

Tilting her head back, Janelle opens her neck up for his sweet caresses, enjoying his affections.  Chris glides his lips along her neck, pulling back on the collar of her shirt.  “Mmm… I love when you smell like the hospital,” he chuckles, biting and kissing at the crook of her neck.  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Bending to wrap his arms behind her knees, he lifts her over his shoulder and slaps her ass.  She reaches for a piece of the toasted garlic bread on the counter and takes a quick bite.  Walking towards the hallway, he pauses next to the table and blows out the candles.  “No,” Janelle laughs, reading his mind.  “It’s already set nicely; and I could use a shower after work.”

He starts moving down the hall again, turning to enter the bathroom carefully without banging her into the door and sets her gently down on the edge of the tub.  He starts the water for her, turning it up high, just like she likes.  He kisses the top of her head, handing her a towel and rising to exit the room.  She blows him a kiss, and he pauses at the door.  “I could put the Santa suit back on?  It’s in the car.”

Untangling herself from her scrub top, she pulls it over her head and stands before him in her boring work bra.  She drops it to the floor laughing at him.  “Sorry, babe. No Christmas kink here.”

Chris leans his head against the door, smiling at her.  “So you don’t want me to tie you up with the Christmas lights I got?”

He chuckles at the candy cane panties she’s wearing when she stands up straight from removing her work pants.  “‘Santa: I can explain.’”  He reads aloud.  “That’s not kink at all,” he laughs.

Janelle bends over in laughter, grasping her sides.  “Chani got them for me; I think they’re funny.  No I don’t have Christmas kink.  I was kidding all week about the Christmas lights, honey.”

Chris laughs at the somewhat shocked look on her face.  “Hell, I wasn’t.  I went to all the trouble of driving around when I wasn’t working to find the little ones that wouldn’t burn you.”  Watching with a grin, he admires as she removes her clothes for the shower, catching her bra when she tosses it in his face.

Pulling her hair loose from her braid and stepping naked into the shower, she laughs, “You’re a sick weirdo sometimes, you know that?”

A gut busting laugh echoes through the room.  “But I’m yours and you love it. Lights?”

“Lights,” she agrees as she pulls the curtain closed, her laughter echoing against the tiles as he closes the door to the room.

#

Hours later, Chris wipes the spaghetti sauce from her chin, playfully teasing her about her ravenous hungers.  “You really should eat more than lettuce and wraps and fast food when I’m gone, baby girl.  You gotta keep your energy up for when I’m home.”  Winking at her the implied energy he’s talking about, he uses the garlic bread to wipe up the last drops of sauce on his plate and savors the rich flavor as he chews slowly.  “Carbs.  Damn I miss carbs,” he chuckles.

Admiring his washboard abs, she laughs, “Oh, honey but you look so fucking good when you stay away from them.  It’s not fair.  I eat right.  I work out all the time.  You give up carbs for three weeks and look like a god.  Besides, you’re a better cook than I.  Why should I bother?  I’ll just freeze the leftovers and I’ll have food for awhile when you’re gone.  I’ll miss you, but some of your Italian lovin’ will still be right here with me.”

She giggles when he tosses his napkin at her playfully, and points to her plate.  She nods that she’s finished and he leans over, setting the two plates on the floor beside the bed.  “Don’t you think you need to learn to cook?” he asks quietly rising up on his knees and crawling to her.  “Who’s gonna cook for our kids when I’m away working?”

“Kids? Christopher, don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself?  There are no kids till there is a wedding, there is no wedding till there is a ring and you know we said-”

His lips reach hers in time to shut her up.  “You talk too much, sassy girl,” he chuckles quietly, wrapping his hands in her hair, tilting her laughing face to his.  “What do I need to do to shut you up?”

“Impossible,” she laughs as she raises up on her knees as well, their kisses crashing against one another.  She tugs on the back of his hair, starting to grow back out, glad it will be longer by the time they take their Disney cruise at the end of January. That should have been her clue about Santa’s true identity at the hospital, but she was still in work mode at the time and was focused on her job.  “So, uh, where are those lights?  Maybe I should tie you up instead…” she taunts as she pushes him over backwards on the bed, landing solidly on top of him.

His leg rises up, creating a space for her to nestle her legs between his.  Wrapping his leg over the back of hers, he holds her tight to him.  “Oh, really?  That could be fun. Later… Ladies first.” His eyes gleam in the lights of the tree in the corner of their room. Kissing again, he pulls her hair, grabbing her closer to him as his mouth becomes more aggressive.  He begins to rock under her, moving and rolling her, his cock stiffening for round two.  She’s already slippery against him, her unfinished needs waiting to be cared for this time around.

“They’re in the gift bag beside the bed,” he tells her.  Chris rocks her forward just a bit more and she reaches out with her hand to pick up the little red bag covered in snowflakes.

Lifting the bag over the edge of the bed she sits up, moving to straddle him, teasing her waiting cunt against his hard cock.  He raises his head and pulls a pillow to him, bunching it up and resting back, smiling as she traces her finger over one of the glittered snowflakes.  Her hesitancy shows when she bites her lip nervously.  “Baby girl, it’s just some Christmas lights.  We can always try it another time; I don’t wanna do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Rocking forward again, she grinds herself against him, giggling softly.  “Oh, no, honey, it’s not that… I want to, believe me, I want to… I’m just trying to figure out the best way to do it.”

He laughs, his arms dropping back against the bed as he bucks her up again, his eyes watching closely as she peers into the bag, looking for the end of the strand.  “Where’s the light switch?” She asks pulling at the string of lights.

“In the box; pull carefully and the cord shouldn’t tangle,” he advises, his smile growing.

Continuing to pull the lights out, she rests them delicately on the bed next to his outstretched leg.  She pauses, reaching the box at the bottom of the bag.  Flipping the switch, the lights don’t come on.  Cocking her head at him, she asks, “You didn’t test they work?  And really.  How are you gonna wrap me with these?”

“Of course I tested to see if they work; I’m not an idiot,” he laughs.  “Check the batteries didn’t get knocked loose.”

Opening the box, her jaw slowly drops, her hands beginning to shake.  He takes the battery box from her, grinning at the tears forming in her eyes.  Shaking the sparkling diamond ring from the box into his hand, he sets the box on the bed and pushes himself to a seated position.  Taking her left hand in his, he chokes back his own tears. “I think from this point forward, we do everything together.”

Salty tears of joy roll down her cheeks. “You’re proposing while we’re naked, you ass.” She whispers and laughs, wiping away her tears with her other hand. “It’s so us.”

He leans into her caress as she sweeps the tears from his face as well, chuckling.  Moving to slide the ring onto her slender finger, he continues his declaration of forever.  “You are my light, and cheer me up when I’m at my lowest.”  Chris pushes the ring into place, raising her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing the back of her hand.  “Honey, I wanna be tied to you forever, starting tonight with these Christmas lights.  Whatdya say, baby girl?”

Through tears and laughter, Janelle nods her head, whispering ‘yes’ again and again.

The couple sit together, kissing and caressing with tenderness and love as the heat rebuilds from before.  Chris extracts batteries he’d hidden in his pillow case and the lights quickly glow to life.  Holding her hand in his, he wraps the lights around their wrists, binding them together.

“Hey,” she giggles.  “Did you write that down first, or was it off the top of your head?”

He laughs loudly and raucously, the sound vibrating against her body and jostling her to a different sitting position, his cock right at the entrance to her sweet hole.  With his free hand, he lifts under her ass and moves her towards him, gliding her onto his rod, willing and waiting.  Her wet welcomes him in and she breathes a sigh of relief as she whispers ‘yes’ one more time.  He shifts again, cradling her in his lap and she folds her legs tightly behind him. Taking the string of lights she wraps them around his back, leaning to the Tolle quote tat and lapping it with her tongue as she rocks against him, sliding him deeper into her sweet hole.

“Fuck, I missed this.  I miss us,” he sighs, leaning his head back as he enjoys the attention she gives along his collarbone, a shiver down his spine when she runs her tongue up the pulsing vein, landing to kiss and nibble at his ear.  Commandeering the sparkling white lights, he takes them from her, and laces them across her back, winding them down her arm as well.

“That tickles,” she giggles at the delicate touch of his fingertips, ensuring the bulbs are not too hot against her skin.  Yet his thrusts in and out of her plush inner walls become more forceful, claiming what is his.

He raises his legs, planting his feet firmly on the bed, changing the angle he pistons into her, bouncing her full breasts against his chest. He strings the lights over and around his leg before dropping the pile of glowing white bulbs on the bed next to them.  Grasping her rib cage on either side he forces her back and extracts himself from deep inside. She whines her dislike of the situation but playfully laughs when he propels her onto her back on the oversized bed, landing on top of her since they are loosely tied together by the Christmas lights. “That’s better,” she praises, opening her legs for him.

Resting up on his knees, holding his weight off her, he grips their tied hands above her head. “Can’t escape now,” he growls, his breath hot against her neck as his lips graze over her skin, finally stopping to capture one of her taut peaks between his plump lips.

“Don’t want to,” she replies bucking her mound against his pelvis, needing his sex back inside her. She moans in frustration, the sound low and animalistic in the room.  His mouth wrecks havoc on her nerve endings and quiet whimpers escape from her lips. “Please, Christopher, baby… oh,” she pauses as her breathing heightens, her body reacting beyond her control as he moves from one sweet nipple, sliding his nose down the valley between her breasts and circling his tongue around the other. “Baby, I need you. I need you to fuck me. Please. Don’t make me wait any more.”

He hums against her breast, his tongue flickering against the tight pink bud, ignoring her request. Her free hand clenches his hair and she tries to raise him up as she bucks against him, her dripping wet need escaping between her legs.  She longs to be connected to him, to stretch for him and to let him fill her in every way possible. The light cord dangling at her side catches her attention and she gives it a harsh tug, collapsing him to her with an exhaled “oomph.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles. “Did you need something?” he gladly asks, taking the cord from her, as she places her leg in the crook of his elbow, smiling when he tangles the strand around her thigh. He tosses the cord to the other side of the bed before driving his pulsing cock into his favorite Christmas present.

His force crushes the air from her body and she struggles to right her breathing. “I need you,” she chants between belaboured breaths.  “God, yes, harder,” she encourages him as he drives her into the bed..

The tangled lights limit the range of movement, but she opens her legs wider, allowing him to sink closer to her.  The wiring around his leg shifts, creating additional friction against her swollen outer lips, an unfamiliar sensation as her crest builds.  With her free hand she pulls the light strand, adding to the tension.

He can feel the change as her walls begin to tighten, each plunge deeper in and she constricts around him as he pulls out, teasing her rim and brushing against her taint with the velvety head of his cock.. She’s yanking the light strand tight enough to dig into his skin. Tilting his head up he locks his dark eyes on her face. Her eyes are closed, her dark lashes against her flushed freckled skin. Her beauty calms and excites him at the same time. A few more intrusions into her luscious center and he senses she is right on the edge of tipping over. “Baby girl, look at me.” Fluttering open, her eyes flash dark. “Beautiful baby girl; all mine. Let go, let go.”

At his command, she squeezes around his shaft, dragging him to the brink. The orgasm rolls through her body and as she comes she cries his name quietly, whispering words of love.  Her body shudders against him and her grip on the light cord loosens.

He continues his rhythm as she mewls and settles, keeping her legs open for him.  Hitting against her inner walls, he tightens, feeling his quake rise up from his toes.  Squeezing her hand tightly that is tied to his he whispers, “I’m yours,” as he spills his love into her.

#

Hours later, the lights lay tangled at their feet, her cat batting at the cord hanging over the edge of the bed.  She asks with true concern in her voice.  “What the hell are we gonna tell people when they ask us our engagement story?”

Click here for the “Naughty” ending to the story

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom