Chapter 11
OAKLEY
When I hand out the last bonus and then close the door after saying goodbye to our last guest, all feels right in the world. Another successful Christmas party.
Another successful year owning Oakley’s Crew Landscaping.
And another year with my man, who I can’t stop grinning at like a damn fool as he buzzes around our kitchen, cleaning everything up.
Most people would tell him to relax and that we can clean it up tomorrow. Me? I know my husband well, and he won’t be able to sleep until the mess is cleaned up. So I get busy, grabbing a trash bag and picking up all the trash while he cleans off the kitchen counter and tidies up.
When we’re finally finished cleaning, we sit down on the couch together, his knees pulled up to his chest and my arm around him as we watch the fire.
“Good party,” he says with a soft smile.
“Great party,” I counter. “Except . . .” My nose wrinkles. “What the hell was going on with Asher and Jackson?”
He shakes his head subtly. “I’m not sure, but if I had to guess I’d say Asher was jealous. I think he wanted to be Jackson’s date.”
My jaw drops at that as I look at the side of my husband’s face. He’s wearing a knowing grin, like he knows a secret I don’t. “Did he say something about that?”
“Nope,” he says casually. “Just a feeling.”
My jaw is still hanging down. Asher and Jackson? No. Way. “No way that’s true,” I say out loud. “They’re like brothers. Always bickering. Can’t really stand each other half the time.”
“Did you forget how we met?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine and dancing with mirth.
“But I wore you down.” I grin, leaning in to kiss him softly. He lets me kiss him with no hesitation, but I feel his hand on my chest as he pushes me back a little.
“Who’s to say Asher won’t wear Jackson down too?”
“Hmmm . . .” I think out loud. “I still can’t see it.”
That makes him grin at me, and as always, I melt when I see my man smile. Just for me. I lean into him and taste his sweet mouth, smiling against his lips when he doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.
The kiss quickly turns heated, and I’m stripping him out of his shirt, kissing down over his chest—the barest hint of chest hair tickling my face and driving me wild.
He removes the velvet coat I’m wearing for my Santa costume, his hands dragging over my stomach and chest as he brings my mouth back to his.
“I really fucking love you, Oakley.”
“I think it’s Santa tonight,” I say, waggling my brows at him in a ridiculous fashion I know he secretly loves.
He tosses his head back and laughs. “Not calling you that.”
I just shrug, totally unbothered because soon he’s standing up and stripping out of the rest of his clothes.
My throat goes dry as I take in his gloriously naked body.
“Call me whatever you want as long as I’m yours.
” He grins, his hands going to the top of my pants.
I spread my legs as he stands in front of me, letting my hands roam over his strong back and down to the firm globes of his ass.
I spread them apart slowly, my thumb sliding through his crease and over his hole. “Are you still sore from this morning?”
“Not too bad. I don’t think you fucked me thoroughly enough.”
He hisses when I slowly slide my thumb into his puckered hole. “Liar.”
He pulls my pants down, and I kick them away, his eyes moving to the lacy red thong I put on under the costume. Just for him. “You were wearing this all day?”
His eyes meet mine, and I see the naked desire there. “Couldn’t exactly free ball it all day with you around. There was a kid present.”
He moves between my legs to kneel before me, his hands going to my thighs as he licks his lips. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”
I grin, happy it has the desired effect.
My throat is dry though, and I can’t seem to form words because he licks his lips again before dipping forward and dragging his tongue along the hem of my underwear, dipping down into the crease between my groin and thigh and then doing it again to the other side.
My cock is hard and trying to poke out of the silky fabric, but he pays it no attention, sliding that sinful tongue down to lick over my balls through the fabric.
My entire body goes rigid with need, my hands balled up next to my thighs on the fabric of our couch.
“Please Trav . . .” I have no problem begging.
He shoots me a wicked smile before pulling my underwear down just enough to tuck under my balls, freeing my cock just before he swallows it down, hitting the back of his throat. He’s definitely mastered this over the years.
I get way too close way too fast, and when I’m about to blow, I scramble to pull him up to me, sitting him in my lap where he belongs and kissing the hell out of him. His cock, slick from pre-cum, slides against mine, and he moves his body against mine in a sexy slide.
It doesn’t take us long before we’re both crying out with our mutual release, wrapped up in each other. When we recover, we don’t move. He just lies against my chest, and I wrap my arms around him.
“Merry Christmas, Oakley.”
“Santa,” I say, being an ass because I can.
“Still not calling you that.”
Still fine with it as long as I’m his and he’s mine.