Chapter 4 Henry
Henry
The last present is arranged perfectly under the tree, Santa's cookies have strategic bites taken out of them, and the carrots for the reindeer are appropriately nibbled. Everything is ready for Lilliana's Christmas morning.
Everything except me.
I'm standing in my living room at midnight on Christmas Eve, watching Maren adjust a bow on one of the presents, and all I can think about is getting her naked again.
She looks up and catches me staring. "What?"
"You're beautiful."
She laughs softly. "You just saw me naked like twenty minutes ago."
"And?" I cross to her, pulling her up from where she's kneeling by the tree. "I could look at you forever and it wouldn't be enough."
Her breath catches as I back her toward the couch. The Christmas tree lights cast her in a warm glow—all gold and shadow and soft curves I want to explore again.
"Henry," she whispers. "We just did it."
"I know." I cup her face and kiss her slowly. "But I want you again. I'm going to want you again in an hour. And tomorrow. And every day after that."
She whimpers, and the sound goes straight to my cock. "You're terrible."
I pull her sweater over her head and groan at the sight of her breasts. Still no bra. "And very, very lucky."
I lower my mouth to her breast, and she gasps, her hands fisting in my hair. I love how every kiss draws these perfect little sounds from her throat.
I pull back just long enough to strip off my thermal. "I want to fuck you with the Christmas lights on."
I peel her leggings down her thighs along with her panties, and then she's naked on my couch, lit by multicolored lights, looking like the best Christmas present I've ever received.
"Lie back," I tell her.
She does, and I kneel between her spread thighs, taking a moment to just look at her. Pink and wet and ready for me.
"I'm going to make you come on my tongue again," I tell her. "Then I'm going to fuck you right here, and you're going to watch the lights while I'm inside you."
"Yes," she whimpers. "Please."
I lower my mouth to her, and she tastes even better the second time. I work her slowly, thoroughly, using everything I learned earlier about what makes her fall apart. When she starts to tense, thighs trembling, I slide three fingers inside her and crook them just right.
She comes with a sharp cry, her back arching off the couch, and I work her through it until she's boneless and panting.
I stand long enough to shed my jeans and boxer briefs, and her eyes go dark with want as she watches me stroke myself.
"You're so big," she murmurs. "I still can't believe you fit."
"Oh, I fit." I settle over her, notching myself at her entrance. "Perfectly."
I push in slowly, savoring every inch, and she's still so tight and wet from her orgasm that I have to grit my teeth to keep from losing control.
"Fuck," I groan. "You feel incredible." I start to thrust, slow and deep, watching the play of lights across her skin. She's so beautiful like this—flushed and open and mine.
"Look up," I tell her.
She does, her gaze going to the Christmas tree, and I can see the reflection of the lights in her eyes. Her eyes roll back, her eyelashes flutter, and she’s lost to the sensation.
"That's it. Watch the lights while I fuck you."
I pick up the pace, driving deeper, and she moans with every thrust. Her hands slide down to grip my ass, pulling me harder into her.
"Is this what you wanted?" I ask. "Wanted me to fuck you under the Christmas tree?"
"Yes!"
"Good girl." I shift slightly, changing the angle, and she cries out. "Because I'm going to fuck you in every room of this house. Gonna make you mine in every way possible."
"I'm already yours."
Something in my chest cracks open at those words. I claim her mouth in a desperate kiss, my hips never stopping their rhythm.
I can feel her starting to tense around me. Her toes curl and her eyes squeeze shut. "That's it, baby. Come for me."
She shatters with a moan, clenching so hard around me that I follow her over the edge with a groan. I bury myself as deep as I can go and come hard, stars exploding behind my eyelids.
We stay tangled together under the Christmas tree, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.
"Merry Christmas," she whispers.
I laugh breathlessly and kiss her. "Best Christmas ever."
We eventually peel ourselves apart and get dressed, though I can't stop touching her. "You should get some sleep," I tell her reluctantly. "Lilliana will be up at the crack of dawn."
"What about you?"
"I'll sleep. Eventually." I pull her close for one more kiss. "Thank you. For tonight. For everything."
"Thank you for finally making a move," she teases. "I was starting to think I'd have to seduce you myself."
"That would have worked too." I grin. "Actually, that sounds hot. We should try that sometime."
She laughs and swats my chest. "Go to bed."
I watch her slip out into the night, crossing to her apartment, and I'm already counting down the hours until I can touch her again.
I manage maybe three hours of sleep before I hear Lilliana's door crashing open.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" She's already running for the stairs. "Did Santa come? Did he come?"
"Why don't you go see?"
She thunders down the stairs, and I follow at a more sedate pace, my body pleasantly sore from last night's activities. When I reach the living room, Lilliana's already tearing into her stocking, and Maren's standing in the doorway in fresh clothes, her hair still damp from a shower.
Our eyes meet across the room, and heat flares between us. I want to cross to her, pull her into my arms, kiss her until neither of us can think. But Lilliana's here, and we need to be careful.
"Maren!" Lilliana runs over and hugs her. "Santa came! Look at all the presents!"
"I see!" Maren laughs, hugging her back. "Did you check your stocking?"
"Yes! There's candy and a new bookmark and—oh! Daddy, can we open presents now?"
"After breakfast," I say firmly. "That's the rule."
She pouts but accepts it, and the three of us head to the kitchen. I make pancakes while Maren helps Lilliana set the table, and it's so domestic and perfect it makes my chest ache.
This is what I want. Every morning. This woman in my kitchen, my daughter happy and loved, all of us together.
After breakfast, we settle in the living room for presents. Lilliana opens hers with enthusiasm—art supplies, books, clothes, a tablet for reading that I spent way too much on but she's been asking for. She's thrilled with everything, and watching her joy makes all the late-night ordering worth it.
"This one's for Maren," Lilliana announces, holding up a small box.
Maren looks surprised. "For me?"
"I picked it out," Lilliana says proudly. "Daddy helped me order it, but I chose it."
Maren opens the box carefully and pulls out a delicate silver bracelet with a small book charm. Her eyes fill with tears.
"Lilliana, it's beautiful."
"Because you love reading to me," Lilliana explains. "And I love you."
Maren pulls her into a hug, and I have to look away before I start tearing up too.
"I have something for both of you too," Maren says, pulling out two wrapped packages. "Nothing fancy, but..."
Lilliana tears into hers and gasps. It's a handmade photo album filled with pictures from the past four months—Lilliana and Maren baking, reading, playing in the yard. Every page is decorated with little drawings and notes in Maren's handwriting.
"This is amazing!" Lilliana flips through it carefully. "Look, Daddy, it's when we made those cookies!"
I open mine more slowly. It's a professional drawing of me, Lilliana, and Maren together. We're in this living room, all three of us smiling, and it's so perfectly captured it takes my breath away.
"When did you..." I start, my voice rough.
"I hired someone to work from photos," she admits. "I wanted to give you something that showed... well. Us."
Us. The word hangs in the air, heavy with meaning.
"I love it," I say quietly. "Thank you."
Lilliana's looking between us with a puzzled expression. "Why does Daddy look like that?"
"Like what?" I ask.
"Like he wants to kiss Maren."
My heart stops. Maren's eyes go wide. And then Lilliana giggles.
"You do want to kiss her! I knew it!"
"Lilliana—" I start, but Maren catches my eye and gives a tiny nod.
We're doing this. Now.
"Come here, sweetheart," I say, patting the couch between us. Lilliana scrambles up, looking curious but not worried. "Maren and I need to talk to you about something."
"Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?" she asks immediately.
I blink. "How did you>"
"You've been looking at each other funny for like forever," she says matter-of-factly. "And yesterday when we were building Bernard, you were being all weird and smiley."
Maren laughs. "Okay, so we're not as subtle as we thought."
"So it's true?" Lilliana looks between us. "You're together?"
"Yes," I confirm. "Is that... okay with you?"
She thinks about it for a moment. "Does that mean Maren isn't my nanny anymore?"
"Well, we'd have to figure that out," Maren says carefully. "But I'd still be here. Still spending time with you. I'm not going anywhere."
"So you'll live here? Like, all the time?"
I glance at Maren. We haven't talked about that yet, but the hope in Lilliana's voice makes the decision easy.
"Would you like that?" I ask.
"Yes!" Lilliana throws her arms around both of us. "Can she move into your room, Daddy? Then I can have the guest apartment for sleepovers!"
Maren's laughing, and I'm trying to figure out how my seven-year-old just negotiated living arrangements, but mostly I'm just relieved.
"So you're okay with this?" I press. "Really okay?"
Lilliana pulls back and looks at me seriously. "Daddy, I already told you I loved Maren. And you love her too. So why wouldn't I be okay?"
"You're a wise kid," Maren says, pulling her close.
Lilliana grins. Then, because she's seven and has no filter: "So can I call you Mom now?"
Maren's breath catches, and my chest goes tight.
"Maybe not yet," I say gently, even though the idea makes something warm bloom in my chest. "Let's take things slow, okay? But someday, if you both want that, then yes."
"Okay." Lilliana seems satisfied with that. Then, with the attention span of a child: "Can we have hot chocolate now?"
Just like that, the moment's over. She's already moving on to the next thing, resilient and happy and completely accepting.
Maren and I exchange a look over Lilliana's head, and I can see the same wonder and relief I'm feeling reflected in her eyes.
This is really happening. We're really doing this.
And it's going to be perfect.
The rest of Christmas Day passes in a blur of happiness. We make hot chocolate, watch movies, and build Lilliana's new Lego set together. Every time Maren and I accidentally brush hands or exchange a look, Lilliana giggles and makes smooching noises.
"You're going to be insufferable about this, aren't you?" I ask her.
"Yep!" She grins. "Does this mean you'll kiss her in front of me now?"
"Lilliana—"
"Please? I want to see!"
Maren's laughing so hard she's crying. "Your daughter is a menace."
"She gets it from me," I admit. Then, because Lilliana's bouncing in her seat expectantly, I lean over and kiss Maren softly.
Lilliana cheers like we just scored a goal.
"There," I say. "Happy now?"
"Very happy." She settles back into her Legos. "This is the best Christmas ever."
I catch Maren's eye and smile. "Yeah. It really is."