Chapter 11
Eleven
Ella
One year later
The Christmas tree glows merrily from the corner of the room by the fireplace, where a fire crackles softly.
It’s snowing outside, and I gaze around the living room—our living room—taking in the festive decorations, the snow, the fire, the tree.
This is my second Christmas Eve in Honey Ridge, and I couldn’t be happier.
I can still smell the cookies I baked earlier, the fresh pine of the Christmas tree, the hint of smoke from the fire. Thankfully, my stomach has settled now that I’m out of my first trimester, so scents don’t bother me nearly as much as they did a couple of weeks ago.
I tuck my feet up under me on the couch, pulling Jack’s flannel shirt around me. I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing besides my husband’s shirt.
Husband.
The word still gives me butterflies.
But that’s what Jack is. We got married in August, in a small, intimate ceremony surrounded by our friends and Jack’s family.
My family’s out of the picture, but his has welcomed me with open arms, and I’m learning what it feels like to truly belong to one.
I got pregnant on our romantic, tropical honeymoon, and I’ll never forget the look on Jack’s face when I told him he was going to be a dad.
So much has changed in a year. I’m not Ella Montgomery, the girl with the trust fund and the toxic family anymore. I’m Ella Carter, wife of the town’s fire chief, mom-to-be, manager of the local art gallery, and proud member of the Honey Ridge community.
It’s amazing to think that at this time last year, I was lost. Drowning. Alone, and scared. And now, I have a husband, a home, friends, a life I never dreamed of. It’s quiet and simple, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What it lacks in glamour it more than makes up for in love and happiness.
And orgasms. Lots, and lots of orgasms. Especially over the past few weeks as my pregnancy hormones have really kicked into gear.
I hear Jack’s boots on the porch steps. He had to work a twenty-four hour shift starting yesterday morning, and I’ve missed him.
Hence why I’m not wearing any pants.
The front door swings open, and cold air rushes in, making the fire flicker.
Jack steps inside, stomping snow off his boots, his arms full of grocery bags.
“Hey, babe,” he calls brightly, and I can hear the thunk of him toeing off his boots.
I rise from the couch and head towards the entry way.
He glances up, and when he sees me, a wolfish smile spreads across his handsome face.
His dark and hungry gaze sweeps over my bare legs, the sliver of skin that shows where the shirt parts.
“Sweetheart.” His voice is rough, low, and my pussy flutters as he slips right into Daddy mode, just like I was hoping he would. “Where are your pants?”
I bite my lip, shifting just enough to let the shirt open up another inch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fully dressed.”
He sets the bags down with a thud, never breaking eye contact. “In just my shirt?”
I nod, playing innocent. “You said it’s your favorite.”
“Mmm.” He strips off his gloves, tosses them aside. “And is my little sweetheart wet? Did you miss me?”
I bite my lip, nodding in a pretext of shyness that we both know is complete bullshit.
I watch as he crosses the room in three long strides. He doesn’t hesitate. Just bends, slides his hands behind my thighs, and lifts me like I weigh nothing.
I giggle, clutching his shoulders as I wind my legs around him. And then he’s kissing me, slow and deep. His tongue slides against mine, and I melt into him with a whimper. He tastes like winter air and coffee, smells like cedar and snow, and I never want to let go.
Jack carries me to the couch, his grip firm on my thighs, and settles me onto his lap. “I was going to take my time, tease you, work you up, but I don’t think I can wait, sweetheart. I need to be inside you.”
He reaches down and flicks open the button of his jeans, then lowers the zipper.
The thick ridge of his cock presses against my entrance, hot and demanding even through the fabric of his boxers.
I moan softly as he frees himself, his cock springing free.
He’s so thick and hard, his tip red and dripping for me.
My mouth waters. I know exactly how he tastes now, how he feels when he’s buried deep, how he stretches me in that perfect, burning way.
“Come here, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, his big hands gripping my hips, guiding me forward. He teases my clit with the head of his cock before he lines himself up. “Sit on Daddy’s cock. Just like that, Ella. Fuck, you’re dripping for me.”
I sink down slowly, clinging to his broad shoulders as he splits me open. The stretch is delicious as my body clenches around him, struggling to take every thick inch. A ragged moan spills from my lips, my head falling back as I finally seat myself fully, his balls pressing against my ass.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Fuck.” His fingers bite into my hips, his cock twitching inside me.
“Look at you. So pretty, taking Daddy so well. I love seeing your tiny pussy stretched around me.” He lifts his hands and starts to play with my nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt, rolling them until they’re hard little points, aching.
“Ride me, baby. Let me feel that tight little cunt sliding up and down my cock.”
I rock forward, grinding my clit against the base of his cock, and we both groan. His dick drags against my front wall, hitting that spot that makes my toes curl. I do it again, harder this time, my breath coming in sharp gasps.
“Just like that,” he growls, his free hand slipping between us so he can circle my clit in tight, relentless strokes. “You were made for this. Made to take my cock, to be my good girl.”
I whimper, my hips stuttering as pleasure coils tight in my belly. His praise sends heat flooding through me, and my pussy flutters around him.
“Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good,” he murmurs, his voice rough and intoxicating. “Gonna breed you all over again, sweetheart.” His fingers pinch my clit just right, and I cry out, my nails raking down his chest.
His words make me desperate, and I ride him hard, my tits bouncing, hips swiveling. His thumb presses down on my clit, rubbing in tight circles, and I let out a shaky moan, clinging to him.
“Fuck, Daddy!” The words spill out, breathless and needy. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come so hard on your big dick!”
“Come for me, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, raw. “Let me feel that sweet little pussy milking my cock.”
I come apart with a cry, my back arching as pleasure rips through me. My cunt clenches around him, waves of heat and pleasure making my vision go unfocused. Jack groans, his grip on my hips bruising as he slams me down onto him, grinding me against his pelvis.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he growls, his cock swelling inside me.
“Look at you, taking Daddy’s cock so perfectly.
You’re mine, Ella. Mine to fuck, mine to breed, mine to love.
” His thumb keeps working my clit, drawing out my orgasm until I’m sobbing, oversensitive and trembling.
“Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Gonna give you every last drop.”
His words send another spike of pleasure through me, and I clench around him, my body still riding the high of my orgasm. Jack curses, his hips snapping up as he buries himself deep and comes with a guttural groan. I feel him start to pulse inside me, filling me up just like he promised.
“Fuck, Ella.” His voice is ragged, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he holds me down, his cock twitching as he empties himself into me.
“Such a good girl, giving Daddy her sweet little pussy as soon as he comes home.” After a few more pulses, he relaxes, falling back against the couch.
His hands slide up my back, pulling me against him as he presses kisses to my shoulder, my neck, the shell of my ear. “I love you. I love you so much.”
The firelight dances across Jack’s face as he holds me, his big body so warm and solid.
His fingers trace lazy circles on my back, his touch gentle now, reverent.
The Christmas tree twinkles beside us, casting golden streaks over his dark hair, bringing out the gold flecks in his eyes.
I press my cheek to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.
His hand slides down, palm spreading wide over my belly.
It’s still small, just the faintest hint of a baby bump showing.
His voice is low and rough with emotion.
“Right here, sweetheart. This is everything.” His thumb brushes over my skin, like he’s memorizing the shape of me carrying the life we made.
“I’ll love you, and this baby, and every single one we’re lucky enough to have after this one with everything I have.
Every beat of my heart, every breath in my lungs.
I’ll love you, and I’ll take care of you, and I’ll never let a single thing hurt you. Not ever.”
My throat tightens. Tears burn hot behind my eyes, spilling over before I can blink them back. I swallow hard, my fingers curling into the front of his shirt. “Jack,” I breathe, his name a shaky whisper on my lips.
“Shh.” His other hand cups my face, his thumb wiping away the tears sliding down my cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby.”
I shake my head, laughing softly through the tears. “I’m not sad. I’m just… happy. So, so happy.” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. “You’re the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten. The only one I’ll ever need.”
His expression softens, something raw and tender flickering in his dark eyes.
He pulls me in, his mouth finding mine in a sweet, tender kiss.
It’s warm and sure, like a promise. When he draws back, he presses his forehead to mine.
“I don’t need bows and boxes for Christmas, sweetheart. Just you. Forever.”
Thank you so much for reading Jack and Ella’s story!