Zach
My nights were spent holding Amber, and my days were spent with family. Without my dad’s foresight, I’d have had neither.
I pulled a soggy piece of wrapping paper out of Lewis’s mouth as everyone opened their presents around us.
“Family,” Luke murmured beside me.
He could move quietly for an old man.
“This is what it’s all about. It’s what I’d protect until my very last breath,” he said, ruffling Lewis’s hair. “Just like your dad did.”
“Yeah. He did,” I said, feeling my eyes water.
Between Dad and Isabella, they’d promised one another to protect and love their adopted children, to lay a foundation for us to succeed. The house they’d shared was ours now, and one day our own children would grow up surrounded by that same love.
“Merry Christmas, Zach.”
“Merry Christmas, boomer,” I said, throwing my arm around his shoulder.
“Round two, when they’re giving Lewis his bath.”
“You’re on.”
He was delusional.
? ? ?
I checked in the mirror that the Santa hat sat straight before fixing the snug, furry Santa pouch. She’d been in the bathroom for ages. I’d gone to all this effort for our Christmas fuck, and she was nowhere to be seen.
I lay back on the bed, crossed one leg over my knee, and began scrolling on my phone. Amber had sent me a list of plants, followed by a list of dogs. Babies were off the table for now. Lewis made a great interim baby.
I reached down and pulled the material away from my crack. It didn’t last—the velvet snuck straight back into the crevice. I don’t know how Amber could stand wearing thongs. Then again, she loved me all up in that ass, so maybe she got it.
The undignified things I did for my girl. I was a complete sap.
The bathroom door finally opened, and I set my phone aside.
Gone was the annual goofy Christmas jumper.
In its place was a red velvet bikini, white pompom ties at her hips and between her breasts. The Santa hat definitely looked better on her than it did on me.
She held a black crop in her hand, smacking it against her palm.
“I’ve been a very bad girl, Santa,” she pouted.
Bright red lips.
I knew exactly where I wanted that red smeared.
“Oops,” she gasped, as my cock began to free itself from the pouch. “That looks painful.”
“Why don’t you kiss it better,” I rasped.
She grinned and climbed onto the bed.
I was finally a believer.