nails, and folded my hands between my knees.
“That means my present is on the camcorder’s hard drive,” he said, looking all smug and grinning wickedly. “Did you guess your present?”
I shook my head. I had no idea. “There isn’t anything I need or desire as much as I do you. Finish with your gift, and then we’ll go from there.”
He flipped the little screen open again, and his mouth dropped as the video played.
“Damn!” he drawled. “I’m hard again.”
I laughed, loving the look on his face. He was stunned, awed, and absolutely hard. His cock stood at attention as he tilted the camera to check out the view, pressed rewind and played parts over and over.
I couldn’t help myself. I took him in my hand and pumped him while he played the recording. Over the past decade, I’d learned the pace needed to sustain his excitement, but still keep him from coming. As our video images climaxed with me spread over him, my pussy on his face and his cock disappearing into my mouth, I tightened my grasp and increased the speed.
The tip of his penis glistened with pre-come. I ran my finger over it and he groaned, as the video showed me licking my lips in satisfaction.
He slid his hand between my legs and found my moist, warm center.
“Thank goodness,” he said, wasting no time pushing me up against the back of the couch and bending me over the soft cushions.
Entering me from behind, he pumped that harder-than-ever cock deep into my greedy channel, causing me to instantly clench around him. My toes hovered over the floor, and his hands supported my breasts from bouncing as he propelled me closer and closer to losing control. He stretched and filled me with pleasure-pleasure that had seemed surreal only days ago.
A few more thrusts and my vision blurred.
“Christian,” I moaned, seeing stars explode around me and hearing his euphoric gratification rumble from within his chest as we climaxed in tandem.
“I fucking love my gift,” he said, pulling me into his arms and carrying me to bed.
We relaxed for half an hour and then showered together. Surprisingly, there was no sex, just Christian lathering me in my favorite vanilla scented wash and carefully rinsing the soap suds from my body. He pulled on a pair of sweats and told me to dress warmly.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I’m switching out your Christmas Eve present for your Christmas Day present.” Sheepishly grinning, he waited for me to get dressed and grabbed my hand the moment I pulled the sweater over my head.
Leading me to the apartment’s entryway, he grabbed my boots and fit them on my feet. He then pulled my jacket off the hook and wrapped it over my shoulders.
“It’s almost three in the morning,” I reminded him.
“Is there a rule about accepting a gift at three in the morning?”
I guess there was no rule. I smiled and followed Christian out the door. He was so excited, that I doubted he’d sleep unless he presented me with whatever he’d gotten. His enthusiasm was contagious, and I felt the thrill deep in my core as the elevator descended to the ground floor.
Right before the doors opened, he covered my eyes with his right hand and brought his mouth besides my ear. “Don’t peek.”
Placing his body behind me, he guided me and took five steps forward, turned right and walked seven more steps.
A jingling of sorts intrigued me and I turned towards the sound. “What is it?”
“Something you’ve admired since I met you,” Christian said, removing his hand.
Before me sat the most beautiful speed yellow 911 Targa 4S Porsche. For years, I’d lusted after this car, but I never actually thought I’d have one. We’d been saving to buy a house, and such a luxury seemed so far fetched.
“I know it isn’t a SUV or a family friendly mini-van, but it has four seats,” Christian said. “I figured that it could still fit a car-seat if it needed to, and we could save the SUV for when the kids are older and feel cramped in the back of the Porsche.”
“No one could ever feel cramped in this car,” I whispered, blinking repeatedly to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. “How?”
“How what?”
“How could we afford this?” I turned toward him and saw the pride displayed on his face.
“I landed the marketing campaign for the wine distributorship. This is only part of the advance.” The gleam in his eyes shouted his joy. Now they could move ahead full throttle with all their plans. “We’re in the clear, Kat. We can have it all.”
“I already do,” I said, going up on my toes and kissing the man of my dreams with the comfort and desire of true love. “I have you.”
“I love you,” he said between kisses. “I love you so much. And I promise to keep things interesting and make every day a little better for you.”
After a ride on the deserted city streets, we returned home, and I fell asleep in my husband’s arms, wondering how I’d ever gotten so lucky and promising myself to make every day as interesting for him.
Chapter Four
It was exactly one hour since he’d stormed out of the apartment. One hour since he’d taken his tight ass out the door and didn’t look back, leaving me in a brand new red teddy with my tits spilling over and no one to attend to them.
Well, screw him. I wasn’t about to apologize for blowing my top. I wasn’t wrong. Just because he was the most wonderful man on the planet half the time, it didn’t mean I had to put up with his insults the rest of the time.
I deserved to be pissed. He gave me a freaking coat. Double x-large. It looked like a huge red sail and I didn’t want it. But he forced me to put it on. Naked. And then he’d ask for us to go downstairs and make love on the hood of the new Porsche!
No way. It was daylight. People would be coming and going, and we’d be exposed.
“That’s the thrill of it. The possibility of being caught,” he’d said.
“You’re nuts. Just because you gave me a car, doesn’t mean I’ll act like a whore and do it anywhere and anytime.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he’d said, pounding his fist into his hand. “You’re giving me mixed signals.”
“Am not.”
“Fine. You’re not. You’re just an ungrateful and unimaginative woman who can drive me insane with your mood swings.”
Then why had I concocted a whole new role playing scene for our flourishing sex life? And why had he left me all alone on Christmas? I lived with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He was unreasonable, blaming the fight on my mood swings and saying that no reasonable man could live with such a hormonal woman.
I was not hormonal!
Waiting for the popcorn to finish popping, I checked my cell for the millionth time. He hadn’t called. No text. No message directly to voicemail.
“If he wants out, I’ll give him out,” I yelled to no one but the walls. “I hate him.”
I kicked my red feathered, kitten-healed slippers under the table and headed into the bedroom. Lifting the window frame, I reached for the nearest thing I could find to toss the three stories down onto the snow covered lawn. My fingers closed over the worn denim of his favorite pair of Levis. He’d placed them on my makeup table just before he’d started laughing at my lack of adventure. Just before he thought I’d swoon over his suggestion to add
