Christmas Angel Wishes Read online

  “Are you touching yourself?” he asks, his voice dark and low and hungry. His cock seems to jump against my hip.

  “Yes,” I say, embarrassed.

  “Well, don’t stop,” he says, still in that sexy low voice. “Fuck, Angel, that’s so hot. Keep touching yourself, and I’ll touch you too. I want to make you feel so good.” He throws the covers off, and I shiver, but his hands are warm on my thighs and his mouth hot on my nipples, then his fingers are warm inside me, stretching and stroking me from the inside while my own fingers are busy circling my clit. I can feel the pressure of his erect cock against my inner thigh. My arousal rises sharply and fast, and in only a matter of minutes I’m crying out in climax. How can he make this big body of mine feel so sexy?

  I make another Christmas wish. Santa, let him still feel this way about me tomorrow.

  He kisses my mouth. “Angel. Angel. I want you so much.” He pulls away, reaching toward the nightstand drawer.

  I pull him back. “No. I want to feel you. Not latex.”

  “You’re not on birth control, are you?”

  “No. But I just finished my period a few days ago. And—” I swallow, then find my courage. “I kind of wouldn’t mind having a baby.”

  He’s breathing hard. “Fucking hell, Angel, are you saying you’d have my baby?”

  I am brave. I am confident. “Yes.”

  “Would you marry me?”

  He’s making that up. But if he’s not? If he was serious?

  “I would.”

  There’s a silence, while he kneels astride me, one hand moving slowly on that long, thick, hard, beautiful cock—that I thought was too big for me, but is really just perfect. When he does speak, his voice is even lower than before, with so much emotion in it. “I knew it the minute I saw you. I knew you were The One.”

  “I didn’t know,” I say, tearing up. “I thought you were beautiful, but I’ve never been anybody’s ideal, and I’ve never thought of myself as a woman a man would really want—”

  “Stop that,” he says, leaning forward to hold my upper arms. “You are my dream girl. I mean it. I couldn’t imagine wanting any woman as much as I want you. Can’t you see how much I want you?”

  I sit up a little to get a better look, and nearly put my eye out. “Whoa. Yeah, that’s pretty big—”

  He explodes into laughter, and hugs me to him, rolling us over in the bed so that I’m on top of him.

  “I’ll crush you,” I warn.

  “You won’t. But if you did, I’d die happy,” he says, laughing, and then he settles me on his thighs. “Can we try this? You’ll like this. Put it in and ride.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Just do what feels good,” he tells me, in that intoxicating growl of his. “Make yourself come. I guarantee I’ll like whatever you do.”

  Well, I can try it. I help him put the tip of his cock inside me, and it’s so smooth, so velvety-soft over the hardness, that I shudder with desire. “You feel good.” It’s different than before, when there was a condom between us.

  “That’s the idea,” he says, his voice gravelly again. “Make it feel good to you.”

  I learn how. His fingers rub my nipples, increasing my need, and I’m so wet that he slides in and out easily. I realize that if I sort of grind back and forth on him, instead of up and down, it hits my clit in a way that makes me crazy. “Is this okay?” I ask, panting.

  He just nods, never taking his eyes off me. Still playing with my nipples.

  It doesn’t take much longer before I’m at the top of the cliff, plunging off it into orgasm, crying out my joy at what my body can do with his inside it. Crying out his name.

  Right when I’m about to collapse onto his chest, he groans and grabs my hips, moving me on his hard cock and rocking his pelvis into mine, thrusting his hips up. There is a rush of wet heat inside me, and I shudder again with the delight of it. He just came inside me, and it was amazing.

  This sex thing is pretty awesome. I sigh and relax on him, then roll to the side, surprised at how I can still feel him everywhere. “Oof,” I say. “I should be more athletic.”

  “You’re athletic,” Dakota says, and reaches over to pat me on the ass.

  “Not really. I got C’s in gym class.”

  “They were just giving you the wrong assignments.”

  I wait a moment. “It was good for you?”

  “It was freaking amazing for me.” He kisses my forehead. “God. I love you, Angel.” He goes back to sleep.

  I don’t, not right away. I lie in Dakota’s bed, snuggled against him, listening to the wind outside and the snow hitting the windows. Feeling safe. Beautiful. Loved.

  8

  Dakota Makes Wishes

  Dakota

  I wake up early, because I always do. My bed is full of the most beautiful woman in the world, and she is sleeping. That fairy-tale hair of hers is spread all over the pillow, and her soft squeezable body is warm under the covers.

  I’m happy.

  When I peek out the window, the sun is coming up, painting the snowfall with pink and gold light, and blue shadows from the trees. The ground is covered. I feel like rejoicing. Work will be light at the tree farm today, if we open at all. I’ve got plenty of groceries and toilet paper, so we can hole up here as long as we want.

  Speaking of groceries, I could use some. I take a peek at the angel in my bed, and smile.

  After a quick shower, I’m downstairs making breakfast. A man needs sustenance after an energetic night, so I guess a woman does too. I make up a tray with bacon, scrambled eggs, some grapes, coffee, cream and sugar. Plates, mugs, utensils, napkins.

  She’s still sleeping. I set the tray on the foot of the bed and wake her with a kiss. “Wake up, Sleeping Angel. Breakfast time.”

  She stirs slowly, rubbing her eyes with a fist like the sweetest, biggest baby. It’s adorable. “Wha time isit?” she slurs, yawning.

  “Aw. Somebody didn’t get enough rest last night.” I kiss her again. “It’s eight thirty. And there’s snow outside. Looks like a good six-seven inches, not enough to cause problems but enough to keep a lot of people home. So we may just stay here with zero guilt at all.”

  She sits up, making a face. “I’m supposed to go home and help Manda.”

  “I don’t think so. I think you’re completely snowed in, out here in the boonies.”

  She laughs. Then she sees the tray. “Ooh, breakfast? You look like Hercules, you are a sex god, and you made me breakfast?”

  “I make breakfast every day, no big deal.” I whip out a napkin and put it on her lap.

  “I’m not eating breakfast naked! Where’s my bra?”

  “Don’t you dare move! I’ll take my clothes off and we can both be naked. We can eat scrambled eggs off each other’s stomachs.”

  “That’s just weird,” she says, but she’s laughing. “Peel me a grape, Hercules.”

  We do eat breakfast naked—off plates, like civilized people—and then we forget about being civilized and have each other for dessert. Every inch of her skin is soft and delicious. She has become relaxed enough to really scream when she comes on my tongue, and this time when we fuck I don’t have to worry about hurting her. I’m still gentle, but there’s a hella lot more movement this time, more hip action, a lot more joyous abandon, and this time I get to watch those fabulous tits jiggle with each stroke, before we wind up in a sticky, satisfied heap.

  My Angel turns her phone on long enough to send her stepmother a text that she’s snowed in, and then she powers it down again. We wind up talking about everything: what TV shows we like. Favorite meals. Our jobs, our friends, our families. I confess that I’m hoping to be able to pursue a promotion in the Forest Service. She confesses that she’s always let her dad make her feel bad about her career choice, and that she lets her stepmother’s comments about her weight hurt.

  “Screw her,” I say firmly. “You are perfect the way you are. I wouldn’t cross the street to see a skin
ny woman naked.”

  She laughs through her tears. Then she tells me that last night she decided to stop letting her family dictate her life to her. I’m so proud of her. I know that it might be harder to stick to than she thinks, because family has a way of getting in your head, but this is a good first step. She’s going to move out, she says.

  Don’t say it. Don’t rush things, my brain tells me.

  I say it anyway, because I can’t help it. “Want to move in with me?”

  She looks surprised, and then not surprised. She smiles. “How much rent would you charge me?” I can tell by her voice that she’s teasing.

  “Oh, no cash. I’ll take my rent in sexual favors.”

  She reaches down to fondle my balls. “Well, that sounds very one-sided. It hardly seems fair.”

  “Oh, not at all,” I explain. “See, if you give me sexual favors, then I owe you sexual favors in return. This is a win-win.”

  “I thought the sexual favors paid for my rent.” She slides one finger back to my taint, and I’m instantly hard, even with the workout my dick has had over the past 16 hours.

  “No, you moving in just makes it easier for us to give each other sexual favors,” I say, breathless from the feeling of her finger exploring my ring. I pull her down to kiss me, and then we take turns giving each other those sexual favors until once again she’s riding me, her glorious breasts bouncing free while I play with her ass, and she climaxes on my cock. She’s too drained to keep going, so I flip her over to her back and lift her legs up, watching my hard veined cock drive into her luscious wet cunt.

  The thought occurs that she could be pregnant with my baby already, or that I could be making her pregnant, right now. I could be fucking a baby into her at this exact moment. A shiver goes down my back and a primal lust makes me even harder, until I erupt inside her, giving her everything I have.

  When the loving is over this time, I let her legs down gently and settle to kiss her soft pink mouth. “Would you have my baby?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says, simply. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  It’s so easy.

  This time yesterday, I didn’t know her, and now she’s my whole world.

  When we wake up, it’s late afternoon and my phone is ringing. “Hey,” Jackson says when I answer. “We’re pretty covered up with business over here now that the snow’s melted. Can you come help?”

  Damn. I walk naked to the window. Sure enough, the ground is completely clear. There goes Angel’s excuse to avoid her step-bitch, and mine to avoid cutting down trees for customers.

  I sigh heavily. “Yeah, all right.”

  “Dak?” Jackson sounds taken aback. “You okay?”

  “I guess. Give me fifteen and I’m there.” I hang up.

  Got to have a talk with Adam and Jackson. I look at Angel in my bed, raising herself up on her elbows. She’s brave enough to tell her family what she needs. I have to be, too. I sit on the edge of the bed and kiss her mouth. “I have to go,” I say with real regret. “Tree farm is busy.”

  “Can I come with you?” she pleads? “It’s great there. I can just hang out in the shop and listen to Christmas carols. I brought some casual clothes in my bag.”

  Jackson was right, the place is a madhouse. I guess the sudden snow put everybody in a holiday mood, and it is, after all, the first weekend in December. I get Angel settled in the shop, with Miss Nancy and my baby niece, while my sister-in-law Holly is running around like the girl boss she is, and I go sell trees. I do a couple of Christmas Lumberjack experiences with families looking for their perfect tree. By the time it’s getting dark, I am ready to go home with my girl, but there are still customers milling around, wanting trees and shopping for wreaths and mulled-cider mix. I peek into the shop once and see Angel sitting on a beanbag chair with baby Bella in her lap. She looks comfortable and pretty in leggings and an oversized green sweater. Bella is making a concerted effort to grab her nose, and they’re both laughing.

  I could have a family with Angel. I want that, so bad.

  When we do finally close up, I corner Adam. “I need to talk to you. Listen, as much business as the farm is doing now . . . The truth is that you can afford to hire some young college guys to flex for customers. I want out. This time next year, I don’t want to be doing this. You don’t need me.”

  “You’re quitting us?” Adam looks stunned. Jackson appears from nowhere and flings an arm around our older brother’s shoulders.

  “I’m not quitting you. I’m just—” I stop, because it sounds so selfish. “I’ll still consult for you on tree growth, trimming, pesticide app, stuff like that. I just don’t want to do the selling part. Does that make sense?”

  “But I need you,” Adam says, forehead scrunched in a worried frown.

  Jackson pats his shoulder. “He’s not quitting us. And no, we don’t need him specifically. We can pay a little more than minimum wage for unskilled labor, and it won’t break the bank, and it will keep the Winter Festival going. We’re doing okay. You showed me the financials last week.”

  “That’s true,” Adam says, “but he’s our brother. He should help. It was Poppy’s dream that the tree farm continue.”

  Jack looks right at my face while he speaks to Adam. “Adam, man, listen. It was your dream, too. And maybe my dream. But it was never Dak’s. He wanted that promotion, and he didn’t go for it, because he felt obligated to help us. It’s not fair of us to make him give up his own wishes.”

  That’s what I really wanted to say, although I couldn’t get the words out. The star on top of the big display tree in front of the shop catches my eye. First star I see tonight… the wish I wish tonight.

  And I do close my eyes and wish.

  I wish for a career I choose myself.

  I wish for Angel as my wife.

  I wish for this kind of closeness in my family to go on.

  I wish for a family of my own. With Angel. Five or six kids that we make together.

  When I open my eyes and look at my older brother, he’s looking reasonable. “So,” he says. “I didn’t get it, before. I do now. And it’s okay, I promise.” He looks past me into the shop. “Is that your girl in there? Holding my Bella?”

  I nod, my heart full.

  9

  Something to Celebrate

  Angelina

  I play hooky from Manda’s house the rest of the day, and another night, sharing my heart and my body with Dakota. On Sunday, though, after a delicious breakfast of French toast and bacon and berries, I boot up my phone, to see eighteen texts and fourteen missed phone calls from Manda, as well as seven missed calls from Daddy.

  Huh. My family actually noticed that I’m missing.

  Manda’s texts mostly have to do with demanding to know when I’m going to come home and help her decorate for this wacko Christmas cocktail party thing that’s going on this evening, but the later ones shift to guilting me that she wound up having to pay one of her decorating-business employees to help her, and then the final text is different: Angelina, we’re starting to be concerned. Please just let us know you’re okay. If I haven’t heard from you on noon on Sunday, I’m calling the police.

  Aw. For Manda, that’s very sentimental.

  Daddy’s voicemails start out fussing and then lay guilt on me, and then his last two messages sound worried too.

  I text each one of them that it’s now Sunday morning, and that my phone was dead but I finally managed to get it charged up. That I have spent the weekend with a friend, got snowed in, decided to stay later, and am perfectly fine, thanks.

  Okay, I do feel a little guilty. I’ve never skipped out on something I’ve been asked to do before.

  Manda immediately texts me back that she’s glad I’m all right, and when will I be home, and can I pick up another five pounds of shrimp cocktail at the grocery store on my way? I shake my head. I should always expect Manda to treat me as an errand girl. Before I can answer, another text pings into my i
nbox. Would you like to bring your friend to your father’s party at 7 this evening?

  I laugh out loud in surprise, and pass my phone over to Dakota. “Do you want to go? I warn you, it’ll be a horrible party. Everyone will be talking about golf or Botox or the construction business. Or a combination of all three. I usually skip it if I can.”

  Another text pings in. Holiday business attire, of course.

  This time Dakota laughs. “I’ll bet she thinks I don’t own a suit.” He winks at me. “Want to give them a surprise?”

  “I’m willing.”

  “Okay,” he says, and gets up. “I should be at work in ten minutes, dammit.” He leans down to kiss me. “Do you want to come over to the farm again?”

  “I should go home and help Manda,” I say. “I’ll Uber, no big deal.”

  He looks at my doubtfully. “Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll be there at seven.”

  “Can’t wait,” I say softly, and stand up to kiss him. It’s a sweet, hot kiss that has my panties damp within seconds, but we really do have to go our separate ways for now. “I’ll miss you all day.”

  “Ditto,” he says, and boops my nose. “Angel.”

  I get dreamy in the Uber back to Daddy’s house, and almost forget to request a grocery store stop. But I manage. When I go in the kitchen entrance, Verna is practically up to her eyeballs in appetizer trays. “There you are,” she says. “I’d hug you but I been puttin’ food on serving plates.”

  I show her the shrimp and set it down near the other trays before I come give her a sideways hug.

  “You all right?” she asks, puffing a gray curl out of her face. “Hoo boy, the uproar in this house yesterday . . .” She winks at me. “Were you having a good time?”

  I can feel myself blushing. “Yes. A very good time.”