Chapter 16
ROWAN
Eventually, we have to move. Damon cleans us up, puts on some underwear and then opens the curtains.
He turns to me, smiling. “You should look outside, boy. I think you’ll be happy.”
I gasp. “Is it a white Christmas?”
He chuckles and nods.
I fly out of bed to the window, forgetting I’m naked. I lean on the windowsill, staring at the white landscape with wide eyes. The snow is postcard-perfect and inviting. Being in a toasty-warm apartment helps.
I squeal with joy. “I’ve never seen so much snow on Christmas Day.”
Damon drapes his dressing gown over my shoulders and fastens it. “Do you want to go for a walk before we think about cooking dinner?”
I bounce on the balls of my feet. “Can we?”
“Whatever you want to do.”
I turn, loop my arms over his shoulders, and stare into his eyes. “It’s your day, too,” I remind him. Again.
“I’m happy as long as you are.”
I believe him. It’s great that my glee is bringing him joy, but I want to be sure he’s having fun, too.
“We could make a snowman together,” he suggests.
“Or have a snowball fight. Or make snow angels!”
He shivers. “You can make snow angels.”
“Will you make me warm if I get cold and wet, Daddy?”
He kisses my forehead. “Of course. Let’s get dressed, and then we can go outside and enjoy the snow.”
I have another shower, this time with Damon. We lose track of time kissing under the hot water, while the shower screen steams up, but eventually drag ourselves out and get dressed. We have a quick breakfast and then put on warm clothes, hats, scarves, and gloves, and venture outside.
By the time we reach the closest park to Damon’s apartment, the snow is no longer undisturbed.
Children run around squealing with delight, as they hurl snowballs at each other, or push balls of snow around to make them big enough to form part of a snowman.
We find a relatively quiet spot and work together to build a snowman.
“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” Damon admits. “The moment it snowed, mum would chase Nigel and I outside to play.”
“Happy memories?”
“Yes. We’d play outside until we were so cold, we couldn’t feel our fingers or the tips of our noses.” He shudders. “I’m not sure I could cope with that now.”
“Why not?”
He grimaces. “I’m too old.”
I cackle. “You are not old.”
“Kids are more immune to the cold than adults.”
“Nonsence! If we’re having fun, we won’t notice the cold.” I sidle up to him and nudge his shoulder with my own. “We proved that in the limo the other night,” I say in a low voice while I waggle my eyebrows.
“If you want to have that sort of fun, we should go back inside.” He kisses me softly.
I whimper. “Tempting, but snow!”
“You weren’t so keen to get out of the car the other night.”
“No. That’s because there was no way to get warm and dry afterwards. But your apartment is only a short walk away. So I can get as cold as I want, knowing I can have a hot bath and get into dry clothes.”
Damon raises his brows. “You have another set of clothes with you?”
I smile and shrug. “I was hoping it would snow. Come on, let’s make the biggest and best snowman in the park!”
“Put all the kids to shame, you mean?”
“Yes!”
My nose and cheeks become pinched by the cold in record time, but I refuse to let it bother me as we make a huge, three-piece snowman.
Once we have the body and head in place, we search the area for twigs and rocks to make the face and arms. The only thing we’re missing is a carrot for the nose—we use a pinecone instead—and an old scarf to put around its neck.
Damon takes photos of me striking silly poses with the snowman.
I hug it, pretend to kiss its cheek—it’s too cold to actually do it—and pull funny faces.
I persuade him to take some selfies of the two of us.
Then I fall back into the snow, laughing as I stare at the clear blue sky and move my arms and legs to make a snow angel.
The cold and damp seep into my clothes, but I don’t care.
I’m having a fantastic Christmas, and it’s only just started.
“You’d better get up, boy.” Damon holds his hand out to me.
I accept it, half letting him haul me up, half jumping to my feet, and then turn to survey the imprint I’ve left in the snow. It does look like the type of angel you’d use as a tree topper. Damon takes a photo and then we amble towards his apartment, damp gloved hand in damp gloved hand.
I realise how cold I am the moment we’re in his apartment.
I shiver and clap my hands together, not that it helps.
Damon tugs our gloves off and lays them over a radiator to dry.
He helps me with my hat, scarf, and coat next, then removes his own and hangs everything up.
Without a word, he leads me to the bathroom, turns the bath taps on, and peels my soaked clothing off me, revealing damp skin which is pink from the cold.
He gets undressed too, and wraps me in his chilly embrace while we wait for the bath to fill.
He adds some bubble bath and then helps me get in, cuddling me in the water.
“This is nice, Daddy.” I snuggle against his chest and half-close my eyes.
“Having a good Christmas so far, boy?”
I sigh happily. “So good. Are you?”
“Yes.” He trails kisses across my skin, starting at my temple, and working his way down the side of my face to my jaw and neck.
Unsurprisingly, his sweet, tender kisses make me hard. “I’m going to want to go back to bed instead of cooking,” I say.
“Are you complaining?”
“No. But we have to eat at some point.”
“Fair. We should cook next.”
I whimper.
“And then pass out on the sofa for a couple of hours.”
“And then go back to bed?”
He laughs. “Yes. I’d quite like to tie you up again.”
I shiver with delight. “I’d like that, Daddy.”
“And spank you.”
“Yes, please.”
We lounge in the bath until the water becomes tepid. Damon wraps a towel around himself and then dries me slowly and gently. I snuggle in a towel while he dries himself. We wander to the bedroom to get dressed. Again. I thank past-me for having the forethought to pack two sets of clean clothes.
Damon puts our wet clothes in the washing machine, and adds more laundry to make a full load, before turning it on.
It rumbles away while we get organised to cook.
We work surprisingly well together in the kitchen.
Usually, when someone ‘helps’ me, they get in my way, or they want to do things differently, or both!
It’s annoying, but Damon is anything but.
We work in synch to make a festive feast fit for a king.
Seriously, we end up with far too much food.
I watch as Damon sets the table, pursing my lips.
“What is it, boy?”
“We didn’t get any Christmas crackers.”
He rolls his eyes. “They’re full of plastic rubbish anyway. No one uses the crappy little gifts you get in them. And the jokes are always awful.”
“I bet you wouldn’t wear the paper crown, either.”
He huffs. “No chance.”
I chuckle. “You’re sexy when you have the Christmas grumps.”
He scowls, but there’s no anger behind his expression.
“One year, I made crackers.”
He stares at me. “You made them?”
“Yes! It’s not hard. You can even buy empty toilet rolls in craft shops these days. Of course, the year I made them, I made my parents save them for months beforehand. I chose little gifts that I knew would be appreciated to put in each one, and hand-decorated them, so I knew whose was whose.”
“Wow. But why?”
“Because it was fun? And because I love Christmas.” I beam at him. “Next year, I’ll make you a Christmas cracker you’ll want to pull.”
He drags me to him for a kiss. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I melt against him and return his kiss. “We could also get special place settings.”
“Why?”
“So they’re cheerful and Christmassy! And better than beige.” I tap one of his uninspiring tablemats.
“It’s practical.”
“Practically boring.”
He sighs and cups my face. “Something tells me you’re going to bring a lot of colour into my life.”
I grin. “I intend to try. The question is, will you let me?”
“Yes.” He kisses me slowly, sucking on my lower lip and tongue.
All I can do is moan into his mouth, to show him my appreciation.
We’re disturbed by the oven timer, which lets us know everything is ready.
We put everything on the table, then sit next to one another and tuck in.
We eat far too much. At least, I do. It gets to the point where I feel uncomfortably full and can’t face eating another bite.
Damon puts the leftovers into Tupperware, and then we snuggle on the sofa.
We put a film on, but, as I predicted, neither of us actually watches it.
We cuddle, kiss, chat, and eventually fall asleep.
By the time we wake, it’s dark outside, and the only light inside comes from the twinkling Christmas lights we hung yesterday. The film ended while we were sleeping, leaving the TV on a black screen.
“What now?” Damon asks. “Another walk?”
I gaze out the window. It hasn’t snowed again. It’s raining, which is a shame. If it continues, the snow will be nothing but slush by morning.
I shake my head. “We’ve had our walk already. I’d rather stay inside.”
“And—?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Well, you promised to tie me up and spank me.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He checks his watch. “It’s a little early for bed. Do you have any other Christmas traditions?”
“Playing board or card games.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Not even a deck of cards?”
“No.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Now I know what to get you next Christmas. Oh! Or for your birthday. When is your birthday?”
Damon smiles. “Not until June.”
“I’d love a June birthday.”
“Why?”
“Because then you only have to wait six months—give or take—between your birthday and Christmas. Mine’s in March. It’s a long wait ’til Christmas.”
He pulls me close and kisses me behind my ear and the nape of my neck. “March isn’t far away. You’d better start thinking about what you want for your birthday, boy.”
My skin tingles, and my heart flutters. “You, Daddy.”
“Me, and—?”
I shrug. “I dunno. I’ll think about it.”
“Another toy?”
I shiver. “That would be fun.”
“Or a board game.”
I laugh. “I’m not sure there’s much comparison between those two ideas.”
“A sexy board game.”
I hum. “That would be wonderful, Daddy.”
He stands and holds his hand out. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“The bedroom. I’ve decided I don’t care how early it is. I can’t wait to be with you.”
I take his hand. “You make a compelling argument, Daddy.”
“Something tells me you didn’t need persuading.”
“Nope. Not at all.”