Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty Six
Vincent
The place went up in a blaze. Four bodies were extracted and were so charred, the causes of death couldn’t even be verified, meaning the fucker with the cracked neck in the cellar will be seen as just another casualty of the fire.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Skyla says as she comes around the corner.
I push away from the desk, closing the laptop—and the news article on the mysterious fire—as I turn to my wife, spreading my legs as I gesture for her to come closer. She comes to me willingly, like our pull is inevitable. Or maybe that’s just how I view it to be.
Skyla climbs into my lap, nuzzling my neck as she speaks against my skin. “The kids were asking for you—they want to open presents.”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” I counter. “They shouldn’t be opening any presents until tomorrow.”
She pulls back far enough to roll her eyes at me before laughing. “You and I both know those kids are so spoiled, it would take them five business days to open all of their presents. They need to get a head start.”
I smirk at that. The guys did go overboard this year, as did I, though I can’t say it’s different than any other year or birthday. There’s no way they won’t grow up to be spoiled rotten, at least in some ways. Not when they have five dads willing to hand them the world at any given moment.
“Blake and the kids are going home tomorrow; her husbands too of course,” Skyla says.
I nod, though I don’t miss the hint of sadness that touches her words.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
She shrugs. “I was kinda getting used to the company. It’s not like I don’t have other mom friends, but Maggie and Bridgette are usually busy and… I don’t know.”
Nodding, my thumbs rub gentle circles against her lower back. “You made a friend and now she’s leaving to go back to her life on the other side of the country.”
She pouts. “It sounds childish when you explain it like that.”
“I don’t mean it to. I’m sorry them leaving upsets you, siren. It is for the best, though. The Graves family brings trouble… as you’ve witnessed first-hand. It’s best for all that they go back where they came from.”
Skyla turns her head curiously. “I thought you liked them, or at least Zayden.”
I let out a dry laugh. “I’m not sure even his wife likes him. He’s Zayden Graves. He’s… Zayden.”
She watches me closely, like she’s waiting for me to elaborate, but really, that’s all I have to say on the matter. Shaking my head, I attempt to pacify her, to ease the sense of loneliness she’s suddenly feeling.
“It’s been… an experience to work beside someone so well known, so formidable.”
Honestly, that was the nicest thing I could have said about him, so I think that’s more than good enough.
Skyla rolls her eyes as if she knows that’s all she’ll get out of me before moving on to a new topic.
She reaches over to the floor and grabs a wrapped present I didn’t notice her bring inside.
The wrapping paper is a deep crimson with a crisp white bow and a little peppermint name tag dangling off it with my name on it.
“Merry Christmas, Vincent.”
I take the package from her, looking deep into her hypnotic eyes in thanks before tearing open the wrapping.
The paper gives way easily, revealing a white clothing box.
When I lift the top, I find a black sweater inside.
The material is soft like butter as I rub it between my fingers.
It’s not my style at all, if you could even say that I have style.
I definitely don’t wear collared sweaters, though.
Still, she bought it for me and went through the effort of wrapping it for me, so of course I’m going to appreciate it.
“Thank you, siren. I love it.”
She smirks. “You’re such a liar. I didn’t know what to get you, but I did think you would like the smell.”
My brows furrow as I lift the sweater to my nose and inhale gently. A familiar smell hits my senses. It’s dulled, for sure, having been wrapped up for an unknown amount of time, but the smell is instantly recognizable.
“Siren, why does the sweater smell like your cunt?”
She giggles mischievously, a smile playing at her lips as she wiggles herself in my lap. “Do you like it?”
“You know I love it, but I want to know how your smell got all over this sweater.”
Skyla pushes to stand, then slowly strips off piece after piece of clothing. My eyes waver from her body only for a moment to check that the door is already locked. Perfect.
“Hmmm, you know. I’m trying to remember, but it’s slipping my mind. Maybe if you gave me some incentive, it might jog my memory?”
I lift an unimpressed eyebrow as my gaze eats up her naked flesh. Her body only grows more attractive with each day of pregnancy. I swear to fuck, growing a human has never looked so goddamn delectable.
“Incentive?” I ask, allowing each syllable to roll off my tongue as I stand.
She smiles like she has all the power in this situation, and most days, she does. But in the bedroom, or whatever room we deem appropriate, she will always be my submissive.
Before she can react, I’m bending down, peeling her leggings and panties off before tossing them to the side.
She goes to ask what I think I’m doing but doesn’t get the chance to finish her question before I’m lifting her up into the air and pressing her back against the wall.
She gasps in surprise as I lift her higher, wrapping her legs around my shoulders so I can bury my face in her cunt.
“Vincent! Shit, put me down! You’re gonna drop me.” She squirms as she holds her belly protectively.
I pull back, looking up at her with her taste practically dripping off my chin as I swear to her, “I would never or could never let you down, in any facet of the word, siren. When you’re in my arms, know that you are the safest you could ever be. You both are.”
She softens at my words before one of her hands comes to the back of my head, fingers wrapping around my hair as she shoves me back between her thighs.
I go willingly, my tongue licking through her like I’ve never been gifted such a thing in my life.
That’s because with her, every time feels like the first time.
I’m not ignorant to my mortality, to how quickly life can be snatched away.
After all, I’m usually the one doing the snatching.
I will forever treasure every moment I share with my wife and my children.
Even if I vow to lay my life down for theirs, nothing is ever guaranteed, and that thought right there is what keeps me up the most at night.
I feel my siren about to fall apart on my tongue, but I deny her, pulling away abruptly and leaving her whimpering in my arms. Her eyes are closed, her mouth is open, and disappointment is spreading across her features.
“Wha… what’s wrong?” she asks.
“Tell me how the smell of you got all over my ‘present’?”
Her playful smile returns, and she shakes her head.
Carefully, I lower her to the ground before guiding her over to the desk. After wiping it clear with one hand, I lift her to the edge before lining my cock up to her. She squirms and moans as I run my tip through her, never actually sliding inside, though.
“Vincent,” she groans in frustration.
“Tell me,” I say, swirling my tip across her clit.
Her eyes fall closed, and her head tilts back before I’m smacking her clit with my cock. Those perfect green eyes fly open, landing on me as I speak once again.
“Tell me, siren. Now.”
“Wesley and I fucked in the dressing room when we were buying your present at the mall. He cleaned me with it.”
I scowl at her words. “So it’s not just you on the sweater, it’s him too?”
I can tell she’s attempting to hold back a laugh, but I’m not in the laughing mood.
Maybe the others would get off on the fact, but for me, it’s a reminder that I don’t own my wife in all the ways I crave.
That in order to have her, I have to share her.
The idea has become easier to live with the longer we’re together, but I’ll never overwhelmingly accept it.
She knows it, and so do they, and I don’t appreciate the goddamn reminder when I’m trying to make love to her.
I smack her clit with my cock again, and again I look down at the tattoo I got for her. It’s been years, but I’ll never tire of seeing her name permanently embedded into my flesh.
She gasps at the smack before I do it again and again.
“Vincent,” she moans.
“No,” I gnash. “I shouldn’t fuck you. I should leave you here to squirm and suffer.”
She frowns at that as I shake my head before pushing my cock inside her. Another needy gasp escapes her as I sink deeper, resting my head into the crook of her neck as I speak against her delicate skin.
“Of course, you know I’ve never been able to deny you a single thing, siren.”
I begin moving my hips, pushing in and out of her as she attempts to meet my thrusts.
“I want a new sweater, with only your smell on it. I want you to walk into a store, purchase a sweater, come home and use it to get yourself off.”
“Would it help if I told you this sweater was mainly used to rub my clit?” She smirks like she thinks she’s funny before another moan ripples through her.
“No,” I answer flatly.
Her smile comes to me, her eyes desperate and wanting. “Whatever you want, Vincent. It’s yours.”
That’s more like it.
I move my hand to her clit and rub quick circles over it with my thumb that have her falling apart within seconds.
Her pussy constricts around me, and it’s all I need to follow her over the edge.
My cock jerks as I empty myself inside her, making sure to fuck every drop deeper.
I can’t get her more pregnant than she already is, but it doesn’t hurt to try.
When our movements pause, I pull back, looking down at my perfect siren as she smiles up at me with a satiated smirk.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Vincent.”
I lean down and press my lips to hers, my words ghosting just above her mouth as I speak.
“Merry Christmas, siren.”