Chapter 23
Hennessy
The church bells are still ringing, echoing across the parking lot where families huddle together in their Christmas best, breath fogging in the December chill. Midnight mass is over, finally.
“Okay, so I'll see you all later,” I say, hitching my purse higher on my shoulder and fishing out my car keys. “Love you guys.”
Dad stops short, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. “Wait, what? Where are you going, mija? You always stay at our house after Mass.”
I glance at Mom, who's already biting back a smile. Abuela adjusts her shawl, watching with twinkling eyes that miss absolutely nothing.
“I'm going to spend the night at my boyfriend's place,” I say, keeping my voice casual even as my heart races.
“Boyfriend?” Dad's voice cracks on the word. “?Cual boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend serious enough to miss Christmas morning with your family?”
Mom places a gentle hand on his arm. “Javi, Hennessy is twenty-three—”
“I don't care if she's fifty-three!” Dad exclaims, switching to rapid Spanish. “?Es Nochebuena! This is a family tradition! And who is this boy? Why haven't I met him?”
“I'm an adult, Dad. I can decide where I want to spend Christmas morning,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
“Adult? Pfft!” He throws his hands up. “Just because you have a degree and a job doesn't mean you should be sleeping at some man's house on Christmas Eve! ?Dios mío! What would your abuelo say?”
Abuela cackles, the sound cutting through the night air. “Your abuelo would say, 'Javier, shut up and let the girl go get some.'”
“?Mamá!” Dad gasps, scandalized.
I snort, trying to hold back my laughter as Mom loses it beside me, her shoulders shaking with silent giggles.
“What?” my grandmother shrugs, completely unrepentant. “I'm eighty-two, not dead. You think I don't know what young people do? Why do you think I light so many candles to the Virgin? To thank her for the invention of birth control.”
Dad looks like he might pass out, his face cycling through several expressions before settling on pure horror. “This is...this is inappropriate! Hennessy, you're coming home with us. That's final.”
“No, Dad, I'm not,” I say firmly, my spine straightening as I meet his gaze. “I've already opened my present with you guys, we've done the family dinner, and we just finished mass. I'm going to my boyfriend’s now.”
My dad continues on a tirade that I’m tuning the hell out until I hear my mom.
“Javier!” Mom cuts in, her hand tightening on his arm. “Not in front of the church.”
“Look, I really need to go,” I say, already moving backward toward my car. “Love you all, bye.”
Abuela steps between us, her tiny frame somehow filling the space. “Javier, let her go. The girl has stars in her eyes. You remember what that's like, no?”
Dad looks at Mom, who raises her eyebrows in that way that means he's fighting a losing battle. He deflates slightly.
“Fine,” he mutters.
Mom steps forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Go, baby. Have fun. We'll see you tomorrow.”
I hug her quickly, then my grandmother, who whispers in my ear, “Use protection, nina. Men like that make babies that are too handsome for their own good.”
“Abuela!” I laugh, my cheeks burning as I pull away.
I practically sprint to my car, tossing my purse onto the passenger seat and cranking the engine. The clock on my dash reads quarter past one as I pull out of the parking lot and head to my apartment.
I race through my place, throwing my church clothes onto my bed and digging through my dresser for what I'd hidden earlier.
The red lace set cost more than I want to admit, but the look on Beckham's face will be worth every penny.
I slip it on, checking myself in the mirror.
The bra barely contains my tits, and the matching thong disappears between my ass cheeks.
I grab my long black coat, belting it tightly around my waist, and step into my highest heels. A quick swipe of lipstick, and I'm out the door again.
The drive to Beckham's feels longer than usual. My phone pings with a message, and I check it at a red light.
King
Where the fuck are you? If you're not here in 10 minutes I'm assuming you're in a fucking ditch somewhere and coming to hunt you down.
I smile, warmth spreading through me at his gruff concern. He'd never admit it, but he worries.
By the time I pull into his complex, it's nearly two in the morning. I make my way to his door, my heels clicking on the concrete. Instead of using my key, I knock, wanting to surprise him.
I hear heavy footsteps approaching, then his annoyed voice through the door.
“Who the fuck is knocking at my door at two in the fucking morning—”
The door swings open, and Beckham freezes mid-sentence. He's wearing nothing but low-hanging pajama pants, his chest bare, hair mussed like he's been running his hands through it.
“Hennessy?” His eyes narrow. “Why the fuck are you knocking? You have a key. What's happening?”
I don't answer. Instead, I slowly untie my coat's belt, letting the fabric fall open. His eyes drop to my body, widening as he takes in the red lace that barely covers anything.
“Merry Christmas, Coach,” I say, my voice low.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, his hand tightening on the doorframe.
I step forward, and he backs up automatically, letting me in. The door slams behind me as he kicks it shut, his eyes never leaving my body.
“You wore that to church?” he asks, voice rough.
“No,” I laugh, dropping my coat to the floor. “I changed after. Didn't think Jesus would appreciate this outfit during midnight mass.”
His hand reaches out, fingers tracing the edge of the lace where it barely covers my nipple. “I sure as fuck appreciate it, but I’d have to get violent if you wore this for Jesus.”
“I thought you might,” I say, stepping closer until my nearly bare chest presses against his. “Sorry I'm late. Dad wasn't thrilled about me leaving.”
“Don't care,” Beckham growls, his hands sliding down to grip my ass.
Without warning, he drops to his knees in front of me, his large hands gripping my thighs as he spreads them apart.
“Beckham—” I gasp, startled by the sudden movement.
“Been thinking about this all fucking night,” he growls, his hot breath ghosting over the lace between my legs. “Wondering if you'd taste like Christmas.”
He hooks his fingers into the sides of my thong, yanking it down my legs with such force I'm surprised it doesn't tear. I step out of it, still in my heels, as he tosses it aside.
“Hold on to my shoulders,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I obey, steadying myself as he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder, opening me completely to him. The Christmas tree lights in the corner cast a soft, multicolored glow across his face as he looks up at me, his eyes hungry.
“Gonna eat this pussy until you scream,” he promises, then leans forward and licks long and slow up my center.
“Fuck!” I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure jolts through me.
He groans against me; the vibration sending shivers up my spine. His tongue circles my clit before sucking it between his lips, applying just the right amount of pressure to make my knees buckle.
“Beck—oh god—” I moan, my head falling back as he devours me like a man starved.
His hands grip my ass, pulling me harder against his mouth as his tongue delves inside me. I can feel his beard scratching against my inner thighs, the slight burn only adding to the already overwhelming sensation.
“Ride my face,” he growls against my pussy, the command sending a fresh wave of heat through me.
I roll my hips, grinding against his mouth as he continues his assault on my body. His fingers dig into my flesh, guiding my movements, showing me exactly how he wants me to use him.
The Christmas tree lights dance across our skin—red, green, blue, gold—casting us in an ethereal glow. I rake my nails through his hair, gripping the dark curls and tugging hard enough to make him groan.
“Merry fucking Christmas,” I moan, looking down to meet his eyes as I grind against his tongue.
The sight of him on his knees, face buried between my thighs, eyes dark with desire as he stares up at me—it's almost too much.
The intensity makes me shudder as his tongue delves deeper, lapping at my entrance before plunging inside over and over. My thighs start to tremble, and I'm not sure how much longer I can stand.
“Fuck, Beckham, your tongue—” I gasp as he pushes it in and out, fucking me with it while his nose bumps against me. “I'm gonna—”
He growls against my pussy; the vibration sends zings through my body. His hands squeeze my ass harder, holding me in place as his tongue moves faster, deeper, hitting spots inside me that make my vision blur.
“That's it,” he mumbles against me, never breaking his rhythm. “Give it to me, baby.”
The pressure builds, white-hot and overwhelming. When he slides one thick finger alongside his tongue, curling it, I shatter. My orgasm crashes through me in violent waves, my body convulsing as I cry out his name.
“Beckham! Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
My legs give out, but he holds me up, never stopping as he works me through it, drinking down everything I give him. Just when I think I can't take anymore, he sucks my hood between his lips, biting softly and I'm coming again.
I'm still trembling when he finally pulls back, his beard glistening with my arousal in the lights. His chest heaves as he stands, and I can see his cock straining against his pajama pants, the outline thick and hard.
I drop to my knees, reaching for his waistband, desperate to return the favor. “Let me—”
“No.” His voice is firm as he catches my wrists. “Tonight is all about you.”
I look up at him, confused. “But you're—”
“I'm going to eat this pussy until you pass out,” he growls, hauling me to my feet. “That's my fucking Christmas present to myself.”
Before I can argue, he scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. I wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me toward the bedroom, my body still tingling from my orgasms.
“You don't have to—” I start, but he cuts me off with a look that makes my words die in my throat.
“I want to,” he growls, kicking open his bedroom door. “I've been thinking about having my face between your thighs all fucking day. You don't get to deny me that.”
He tosses me onto the bed with enough force to make me bounce. Before I can catch my breath, his hands are on my bra, ripping the delicate lace clean in half. The sound of tearing fabric fills the room as he exposes my breasts to the cool air.
“You won't be needing this,” he says, tossing the ruined lingerie aside.
“That was expensive, you asshole,” I complain, but there's no heat behind my words.
“I'll buy you ten more,” he promises, climbing onto the bed. His large hands push my thighs apart, spreading me open before him. “Now be a good girl and let me feast.”