Saxon
Y ou know, I thought I knew my place in the world. Thought I understood myself and my innermost cravings. Then Alison Wainwright opens her pretty mouth and calls me that name, begs me like that, and I…
Turns out I don’t know anything at all.
Because in all my thirty nine years on this earth, it never once occurred to me. Never even crossed my mind that hearing her call me daddy would be something I’d want or crave. But the second Ali whined it, the second she declared me her lover and protector in that singular way, everything changed. My whole universe flipped upside down and rearranged.
Daddy.
The title thuds through me with each frantic heartbeat, flooding my muscles, my nerves, my veins. It’s rewritten in my damn DNA, and as I lick Alison into a writhing heap, as I make her come and come and come…
I’m a different man.
Made new.
This man is done with stolen single kisses made okay with mistletoe sprigs. This man is done with sneaking around and feeling guilty; with worrying about age gaps and other people’s reactions. With holding back.
I’m done. Suddenly and completely past that shit.
“You’re mine,” I grit out as I shrug off my white button-down shirt, tossing it over my shoulder to join my suit jacket and tie. Alison lays beneath me on the bed, pink-cheeked and so pliant, her chest heaving and her limbs askew. And those blue eyes as they stare up at me are filled with such worship, my heart gives an unsteady lurch. “Mine, you hear?”
“Yes.” Her smile is full of adoration. Full of relief. “I’ve been yours for a long time.”
As if to prove it, she waits patiently as I strip the rest of my clothes, then lets me grab her legs and yank her further down the bed. Lets me crawl on top of her like a predator. Everything I do, every growl and squeeze and hungry grunt, makes her smile like it’s Christmas.
Which, hang on—
“Merry Christmas, Ali Cat.”
She beams as I cover her with my much larger body, my furred belly rubbing against her toned stomach. “Merry Christmas. Santa got it really right this year.”
Ha. “You’re not wrong. Wrap your legs around my waist—yeah, just like that.” Is there any better feeling in the goddamn world than feeling her soft thighs gripping me? Squeezing me? “Now hold on tight.”
Obedient as ever, Alison goes still, body rigid, holding her breath. But no, that won’t do, not if she’s tensed up like that, because I’d rather smash my head against a wall than hurt this girl. Would rather jump off a cliff than leave a single scratch on her.
“Relax, baby.”
A shaky laugh. Alison rolls her eyes. “I’m trying, but it’s scary, okay? I’ve never done this before, and you’re… well…”
Big.
Built like a brick shit house, with the monster appendage to match. I hear that.
And for the first time in my life, I wish things could be different—but this is how I’m made, and Alison is mine , and I will burrow my way inside her, by god. Deep inside her, so deep I feel the life energy thrumming through her: that’s where I belong.
But tensing up will only make things worse, so I duck down and seal our mouths together, finally kissing my girl. Finally. And it’s not a stolen peck, not a chaste brushing of lips—this kiss is deep and dirty and slow.
Ali gasps and groans. She kisses me back; nibbles my bottom lip and sucks on my tongue. And it feels so good, so hot and liquid and perfect, that my brain almost forgets what I’m doing here. How I’m trying to help her.
But my body remembers. It rocks against her, shaft rubbing along her damp, swollen slit. Oh, yeah.
“Feel that?” My words rumble against her lips, and Ali whimpers. Nods feverishly. “Feel how good it is when you relax? Don’t tense up, baby. Let me in. Let me in. Trust me.”
“Okay, daddy.”
Jesus H. Christ. This girl will be the death of me.
And even with her body relaxed, even with her slicker than a slip’n’slide, it takes us a while. It’s a steady process of nudging forward and letting her adjust; of rubbing her clit until she melts against the mattress again, tossing her head with frustrated pleasure. My forehead is creased with focus, my breaths coming in short, anguished puffs, and my spine is damp with sweat, but I don’t care.
There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now. No one I’d rather be with.
Alison Wainwright is mine.
Mine.
Mine.
My perfect girl.
“Oh.” When I’m halfway in, things start to speed up. Ali starts rocking her hips up, chasing that friction, her thighs squeezing my hips. “Oh, god. Oh, god.”
Tell me about it.
“You’re so hot inside, baby. So searing hot. My perfect little furnace.”
She whimpers and tosses her head. I slide an inch deeper, cursing under my breath.
And by the time I wedge all the way home, by the time we’re sealed as tight together as we can physically go—I’m ruined. Feel like I’ve run a marathon, and had my heart wrung out like a dish towel.
“Alison. Ali Cat. Shit, you feel too good.”
She nods, burying her my throat, and lets me thrust. Lets me pick up the pace, clinging to my shoulders the whole time.
“You’re too good. Too perfect. Shit, I’m not gonna last. You feel too fucking good.”
And I’d be ashamed of this fact, I’d be embarrassed by the confessions spilling from my lips—except that Alison loves them, moaning and bucking her hips, clearly getting off on the fact that she’s wrecked me so badly. Getting high on her effect on me.
Well, if that’s what she likes… then I guess that’s what I like, too.
“So that’s what you wanna hear, huh?” I push up on my hands, thrusting so hard her tits jiggle, watching my girl with narrowed eyes. The room around us is all moonlight and shadows, the sounds from the party outside muted by the glass windows. Red and gold fireworks explode out there, bursting over the night sky.
“You want to hear how I can’t control myself with you? You want to watch me lose my cool? Turn me into some ten-pump chump, losing my goddamn mind over your perfect pussy? That’s what you want?”
And Ali beams up at me, her whole body rocking with my thrusts, and nods that beautiful head. “Yes, daddy. That’s what I want.”
Jesus.
My hips slam harder, punishing her with each thrust. And Alison takes it all, lets me use her and drip sweat on her and tug her nipples between my teeth, moaning like it’s the best thing she’s ever felt.
“No more parties after this.” I force each word between gritted teeth, because my whole body is coiled tight now, desperate to come. Every second I hold off is a goddamn miracle, my body stroking into hers, lighting up every nerve ending.
“No more Wainwright mansion. No more shitty Christmases and sad little bucket lists that break my heart. You’re coming home with me, you hear? You don’t need another bodyguard when you’re with me. You’re mine now, Ali. Mine .”
“Oh, please!”
Alison comes for a second time with her little hand jammed between us, rubbing away at her clit, her knuckles brushing my belly. And the second she clamps down on me, the second those ripples shudder through her body, I drop to my elbows on top of her and follow with a roar.
It’s so good it’s painful. Wrenched from the center of my body; from the depths of my fucking soul.
I fill her up with spurt after spurt, until she’s dripping on the bed and I need a gallon of water to recover.
And I may be an old bastard, but I’m already planning round two.
* * *
Three years later
“Close your eyes. You ready? Are they closed?”
Alison scoffs, climbing out of the truck with her mitten-clad hand in mine for balance. Snow crunches beneath her boot heel as she steps down, and a pine-scented breeze lifts her glossy dark hair. “I’m wearing a blindfold, . What does it matter?”
She can’t see my stern look, but I give her one anyway. “Don’t care. Close ‘em.”
“So bossy.” A smile plays around Ali’s mouth, and I squeeze her hand before I lead her to the cabin door.
Our steps are slow and careful, her balance wobbly without her vision, and you’d better believe I’m taking no risks with my pregnant wife as I guide her up the snowy steps. I’d better shovel and sweep those later before she comes this way again. When it comes to Alison, I play it safe.
She’s precious. The most important thing in my life by a country mile.
She has been since the moment I met her.
“It’s cold here,” Ali says, her head turning blindly as I fiddle with the key in the lock. “Smells fresh, too. Like how I imagine the mountains smell.”
There’s a real good reason for that, and I know this is Ali’s dream, know this is the kind of place she’s always longed for, but I’m still buzzing with nerves as I get the door open and flick on the lights. As I scowl at the empty fireplace, heart sinking.
Should I go in there now and light the fire? Make the full impact?
But what if she gets cold waiting out on the deck?
“You’ve gone all quiet,” Ali observes, finding my shoulder after a few false attempts and rubbing me through my thick winter jacket. “Whatever you’re all frazzled about, it’ll be fine.”
“I’m thinking second thoughts.” It’s always so easy to confess things to Ali, even when she’s not blindfolded. She loves me the way I love her: with no reservations, and no take-backs. Even if I’ve miscalculated here, she’ll love me just the same, and it’s that thought that gets me breathing again. My shoulders relax, and I steer my wife into the doorway and face her at the cabin. “But here goes nothing. Surprise, baby girl.”
Her silky hair clings to the blindfold, but it tugs away easily. Ali gasps, staring wide-eyed into the cozy mountain home, and she claps her mittens together under her chin.
“I figured… you always wanted a snowy Christmas…”
“It’s perfect,” Ali breathes, bouncing on her toes in her brand new snow boots. “Oh my god, there’s a fireplace . And a rocking chair! And bookcases and throws and wooden beams and it smells like sap and pine—”
“The works,” I agree, chest loosening. Well, I can’t have gone too wrong, even if she doesn’t know the kicker yet.
“Thank you.” When Ali turns to me, eyes so bright, I could get lost in them forever. Could swim around in her baby blues. “This is the best vacation ever.”
Yeah. That’s the thing…
“Doesn’t have to be,” I say carefully, trying to gauge her reaction as I say the words. She’s sweet and excited, mittens still clutched beneath her chin. “Doesn’t have to be a vacation unless you want it to be. We could live here full time, baby. It’s ours. I bought it.”
Her mouth drops open and just like that, the nerves are back, crowding my throat. Making my chest feel tight.
“We don’t have to,” I rush to say, kicking myself inside for thinking this was ever a good idea. “It can just be an investment property, or a rental home. We can flip it or only come here once a year, whatever you want. But I know you’ve always wanted a normal life, and the thing is, out here in the sticks like this, no one gives a shit about the Wainwright family. Even beautiful as you are, no one would know you from Eve. So I could get a local job and you could do your editing work, and no one would ever bother you. We wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. But if this is dumb—”
“It’s not dumb.” Ali plasters herself against my chest, and her voice is shaky. “It’s so not dumb, . We can really live here? Start over like that? In the snow?”
I press my smile against her hair. “Don’t think it snows in the summer, baby.”
“I don’t care.” My wife laughs, soft and perfect, and presses a kiss to my throat. “Oh my god, I don’t care. I love it.”
Thank god for that.
This was a risk, and it’ll be a major change for both of us… but if it’s better for Ali, it’s better for me. Plain and simple. I live to make this woman happy. It’s my whole deal.
“Well, come in and see it first before you agree.” I nudge her into the cabin, voice gruff. “But let me light the fire before you judge it. See the full effect.”
“I already love it,” she says again, and I’m light in my boots, floating with a job well done, as I lead her through the mountain home, pointing out the kitchen and the en suite and the nursery for our growing baby. And she’s right: Ali belongs here, with snowflakes melting in her dark hair. Her red Christmas sweater matches her flushed cheeks, and she looks so at home, like a puzzle piece slotting into place.
“But will you like it?” Ali asks, forehead creased with concern, but there’s no need for her to fret.
If she’s near, I’m happy. If she’s content, I’m fucking ecstatic.
Our kiss tastes like fresh mountain air.
“If you’re here, Ali Cat? Always.”