Christmas Day
I w o k e u p to soft kisses. At first, I thought it was part of a dream. My body was still humming from the night before. Humming from the way Woods touched me, praised me, and loved me. The way I gave in to every single thing.
I’d told him I loved him and said it with my whole chest. With my heart wide open. With all the raw, shaky vulnerability that had been building up inside me from the moment I felt it. And he said it back. Just a deep, soul-stirring “I fuckin’ love you” right in my ear. “I love the fuck outta you” while he was buried deep inside me, fucking me like he didn’t already reach my soul.
That moment did something to me. Broke something open. He wasn’t just fucking me. He was giving me the ability to let go and let him handle all of me, with care and dominance at the same time. I’d never felt anything like that.
And now, as his lips trailed down the side of my neck and my legs instinctively curled up toward his body, I realized I wasn’t just humming. I was glowing. Dripping in the aftermath of love, of truth, of everything we’d both been too scared to say. He had me, and I wasn’t running anymore.
I stirred, eyes still closed, and stretched slightly. The sheets shifted over me as his scent filled my senses. His cologne mixed with soap.
“Good mornin’,” he murmured low against my ear. “Open your eyes for me, baby.”
When I finally opened my eyes, I adjusted slowly. Woods leaned over me, shirtless in dark red plaid pajama pants that sat low on his hips. So damn fine. And around me were gifts wrapped in rich velvet paper. Deep black bows. Shiny gold and silver boxes. Some tucked near the pillows. Others stacked around the foot of the bed like I’d woken up in the middle of some luxury holiday ad.
I sat up slowly, gripping the sheet to my chest. “What the… what is all this?”
He smirked and kissed me on my lips. “Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”
I blinked, still halfway in a daze. “You did all this while I was asleep?”
“I actually paid for a twenty-four-hour gift wrappin’ service,” he admitted, and we both laughed.
Truthfully? My chest swelled. I looked around, overwhelmed by how perfect everything felt. And it wasn’t just the gifts. It was the way he was looking at me right now. “I feel like I’m dreaming,” I whispered.
He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Nah. This is real. All of it. You. Me. Us.”
“Quamaine,” I exhaled slowly. My hand instinctively fell to my stomach. I was speechless. My throat felt tight. I looked back down at the gifts, then up at him.
“You gon’ sit there starin’ at me lookin’ like that all mornin’, or you gon’ open your shit?”
I tossed a pillow at him, and he caught it midair, grinning. Then, he reached for the biggest box and handed it to me like he couldn’t wait another second. I slid out of bed slowly, the sheet still wrapped around me. “Let me brush my teeth real quick. My breath is definitely not matching the vibes in here.”
He smirked, licking his lips. “You sure? I kinda like mornin’ breath if it’s yours.”
I rolled my eyes, pointing at him as I padded barefoot across the hardwood floors toward the bathroom. I heard him chuckle behind me while I grabbed my toothbrush. A few minutes later, I walked back into the bedroom, tossed on the silk black robe. I looked around at the mountain of gifts again and smiled.
“This is really cute,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “But we’re not opening these in bed. I know you were trying to be romantic, but nope. We’re doing this the real way, around the Christmas tree.”
He looked me up and down. “You givin’ orders now?”
“I am,” I said, lifting a brow. “Come on, Mr. Pajama Pants. Let’s do it right.”
He walked over slowly, BDE dripping, dimples on display. “Only reason I’m lettin’ you call the shots right now is ‘cause you look sexy as fuck tellin’ me what to do.”
“Boy, shut up,” I said, swatting at his chest.
He started grabbing the presents. “Lead the way then, Mrs. Claus.”
We made our way down the stairs, the glow from the Christmas tree lighting up the whole living room in that soft, cozy kind of way that looked like a Hallmark commercial. The fireplace crackled low in the corner. Woods dropped the gifts down on the couch with a low grunt.
“You really wanna do this part before breakfast?”
I looked back at him and smirked. “Yup. But first…” I walked right past the couch, heading into the kitchen, my bare feet gliding across the floor as I turned on the stove.
“What you doin’ now?” he called out.
“Hot chocolate,” I said over my shoulder. “We’re not opening presents without hot chocolate. What kinda childhood did you have?”
“The kind where hot chocolate came out of the vendin’ machine at the car wash,” he said, stepping into the kitchen behind me, laughing. “Shit was watery as hell, but it hit in the winter.”
I shook my head and pulled out a Dutch pot. “Watch and learn,” I said, pouring milk into the pot. “Real hot chocolate requires a little patience.”
Woods leaned against the counter, arms folded, eyes on me the entire time. “I’ma be honest,” he said, voice low. “This domestic shit you got goin’ on be makin’ my dick hard, baby. I could get used to this.”
I tried not to smile but failed. “You better.”
He came up behind me, slid his arms around my waist, and kissed my neck just once before backing off like he didn’t want to distract me too much. I stirred in cocoa powder, a splash of vanilla, sugar, and melted chocolate chips. When it was done, I poured it into the two holiday mugs that were waiting when we arrived at the cabin.
I handed him the red one and watched him take a sip. “Damn. This is actually fire.”
“Exactly,” I said, taking a sip of mine too. “Now come on. We got gifts to open.” We sat cross-legged on the rug near the tree, mugs in hand, lights from the tree flickering across our faces. I reached under the tree first and handed him a small, flat box. “Open this one first.”
He looked at it like he already knew it was something serious. “You didn’t have to get me nothin’, gorgeous.”
“I wanted to,” I said. “Just open it.”
Woods sat forward, that lowkey smirk playing on his lips like he was trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, but I saw it. The way his fingers moved a little slower than usual. The way his eyes flicked up at me before pulling the wrapping back.
As soon as he lifted the lid and saw the bottle, he gave a low, appreciative hum. “Gucci Guilty Platinum,” he muttered, turning the bottle over in his palm. “This is my shit. The one that gets that pussy jumpin’.”
I smiled, biting my bottom lip. “Exactly that one.”
He chuckled and leaned over to kiss my cheek, then grabbed the second box and tore into it. When he pulled out the black Gallery Dept. hoodie, that smirk turned into a full grin. “Check you out,” he nodded, running his hand across the bold lettering. “Spent some money on a nigga, huh?”
“Something like that,” I said, watching him hold it up and admire it.
He looked at me, really seriously. “You a real one. I appreciate you.”
I blushed, shaking my head as he stood up and walked over to the other side of the tree. He squatted down to grab a couple of boxes before coming back over to where I sat on the rug. He sat back down and handed me the first box, and I peeled back the paper. Lifting the lid, my breath caught. Inside was a jet black satin slip dress with the Balenciaga tag still on it. The simple but sexy piece I’d rock.
One by one, Woods handed me gift after gift. I was so overwhelmed with joy and appreciation by the time I’d opened everything. He’s gotten me a Jo Malone candle set, diamonds, Gucci and Marc Jacobs perfume, Chanel boots, and a Ugg blanket.
I climbed into his lap without a word and kissed him slowly. “Thank you, babe.”
He pulled me closer, whispering against my mouth. “You make it easy to go all out, gorgeous. A good woman like you deserves the world.”
I wrapped my arms around him, heart full. “I love you,” I whispered, voice low, vulnerable, honest.
“I know, baby,” he said, kissing my shoulder. “I love you, too.” Before things could escalate into some freakiness, Woods’ phone started buzzing from the couch. He kissed my forehead and groaned, “Damn. That better be Jesus himself callin’.”
I laughed and swatted at him as he reached for it. “Who is it?” I asked.
He checked the screen. “Mom’s.” He walked over to the window with his phone pressed to his ear, mumbling “Merry Christmas” while looking out at the snow falling outside.
While he talked, I grabbed my phone from the side table to check messages. I had texts from my dad wishing me a great Christmas, along with a picture of him and Vanessa at the airport. Just then, an incoming FaceTime popped up. I smiled and answered, walking into the kitchen for a little quiet.
“Merrrrry Christmas, biii—” he started, stopping himself when he saw where I was. “Oh. Ohhh, you ain’t home!?”
I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Merry Christmas.”
Troi wore a green satin bonnet and a fuzzy robe and held a mimosa with a peppermint stick. “You glowin’ like a tree topper, and I don’t even need to ask why.”
“I’m just happy,” I said honestly, leaning against the counter. “It’s been a good Christmas.”
“Oh, I bet it has,” he said, sipping his drink dramatically. “You look all well-loved and moisturized. You must’ve got that Merry Dickmas special. I just knew you had a boo. I ain't stupid!”
I choked on my laugh. “Troi!”
He waved it off. “Anyway. I just called to say I love you, I miss you, and I hope y’all openin’ real gifts and not just each other’s legs today.”
I shook my head, grinning. “Shut up. I got him some real gifts. And he surprised me, too. It was cute.”
“Oh, he got money and sentiment? I approve.”
I looked back toward the living room and saw Woods still on the phone, now leaning against the wall, laughing about something with his mom.
“Are you with family?” I asked.
“Girl, yes,” Troi said with a groan. “My auntie in here arguing over who put raisins in the damn potato salad. Again.” We both started cracking up.
“Thanks for calling. You’ve been real since day one.”
He smiled at the screen. “Ain’t nothin’ changed. I’m always gon’ be a call away. Now go on, enjoy your man and your moment. I’m tryna be like you next Christmas.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Crazy, fine, and festive,” he winked, blowing me a kiss before hanging up.
I tucked my phone in my robe pocket, heart full. When I stepped back into the living room, Woods was already sitting on the couch with his phone angled in his hand.
“She’s right here,” he said, then looked up at me. I padded over, and he turned the phone so I could see the screen. His mom was smiling back at us, her Christmas tree glowing in the background.
“Merry Christmas, Autumn!” she said with a smile that looked just like his.
“Merry Christmas,” I replied warmly. “Hope you’re enjoying your morning.”
“I am now,” she winked. “Y’all enjoy each other and this holiday. That’s what it’s all about.”
“We will,” Woods said, giving her a short nod before tapping the screen and ending the call. He pulled me into his lap right after. “So what’s the move for breakfast?” I asked, pressing my cold feet under his warm leg. “You cookin’ or we orderin’ somethin’ ?”
I looked at him like he had just said the wildest thing in the world. “Ordering? You’re gonna disrespect me on Christmas morning?”
He grinned. “I’m just sayin’. Ain’t no shame in orderin’ French toast and grits from—”
“Quamaine, stop playing with me.”
He pinned me beneath him, lips grazing my cheek. “I love playin’ wit’ you.”
“Get up,” I giggled, trying to squirm out from under him.
“Nah. You wanna talk slick. Now you gotta pay the consequences.” He started tickling me mercilessly, ignoring my squeals and slaps to his chest.
“Woods! Stop!” I laughed, breathless, my head falling back on the throw pillow. “Okay, okay! You win!”
He stopped just long enough to kiss me again, then trailed his lips lower until they were brushing my stomach.
“Merry Christmas in there,” he said, resting his hand over my belly. “Y’all the best gift. I swear.”I blinked, feeling a wave of emotion rush over me. And then my stomach let out the loudest growl, and we both just stared at each other for a second before laughing. He stood and pulled me up with him, holding my hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let me show you how breakfast is done… by a real nigga.”
The smell of cinnamon and chocolate still lingered in the air as we made our way into the kitchen. I settled on one of the barstools at the island, checking my social media. My screen lit up instantly.
I had likes, comments, DMs, and shares. It was wild. Cammy, my client from the other day, had tagged me in her pictures and stories for slaying her hair. Everybody and their mama was on me. I scrolled through with a half-smile, fingers tapping through story mentions and comments. I embraced it all as I looked up just in time to catch Woods pulling out foil-covered pans from the fridge.
“Wait,” I said, squinting. “I know you ain’t…”
He smirked without turning around. “What?”
I burst out laughing. “That’s your grand Christmas breakfast? Leftovers?”
He laughed too, setting the pans down on the counter with zero shame. “Hell yeah. Ain’t no point in lettin’ all this good shit go to waste.”
“Woods…” I giggled, resting my phone down. “That is not breakfast.”
“Says who?” he asked, unwrapping the foil and peeking inside like he was discovering treasure. “Look at this ham, baby. You glazed this muthafucka to perfection. Shit almost as sweet as you.”
“Boy, shut up,” I said, still laughing.
He popped the lid off another container. “Got greens, too. Mac. Man, please. We gon’ grub.”
I leaned on the counter, watching him pile both our plates with food. “At least warm it up right. My mac better not be cold in the middle.”
He gave me a look. “I know what I’m doin’. Move over there.”
I chuckled. “Just checkin’.”
He grinned and kissed his teeth. While the food heated in the microwave, he leaned across the island with both hands on the edge, staring at me. His eyes were low but playful.
“What?” I asked, smiling behind my mug.
“Nothin’. Just… this. Us. This lil moment,” he said, voice low and real. “You sittin’ over there lookin’ all beautiful and mine. Christmas vibes in the air. This shit feels good.” I felt my chest warm up. He was right. It did feel good.
The timer beeped, and he went to pull my plate out, sliding in front of me with a fork and a look. “Don’t play like you ain’t ‘bout to kill this,” he said.
I smirked. “Whatever.”
“Real nigga chef status.”
While we ate, Christmas music played faintly from the Bluetooth speaker in the living room. “You think about next Christmas?” I asked suddenly, peeking at him over my glass of water.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. You, me, and the baby. Lil’ matchin’ pajama set. Processional pictures.”
I smiled, already picturing it. I shrugged. “I think… next year I’ll be ready for a little chaos with our families blending.”
“Whatever you want, we’ll make it happen, gorgeous,” he said.
The way he looked at me when he said it made me believe in us. This feeling was everything. Me, barefoot and full, our baby growing inside me, and Woods across from me like he always said he’d be. Loving me loud and showing up without being asked.
This wasn’t just Christmas morning. This was peace. This feeling was home. And for the first time… I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.