Chapter 7
WIFEY CALLS SNOW SH*T
CHRISTMAS EVE
I have been laughing continuously for the last twenty minutes. Iris is a ball of sunshine, a literal Christmas light bulb in human form. She has been telling me stories about Ezra, her family, and somehow, I got invited to their family’s annual camping trip.
I should be thinking clearly.
But the only thing running through my mind is Heaven.
The taste of her.
The way she held me. Shit, the way she fucking made me cum that one time in the hours I have known her.
The way she looked at me like she wanted more.
Deep down, I want more too.
Speaking of the devil.
Heaven walks back into the kitchen with a grin on her face, and suddenly, I have nothing to say. The words I had ready fell straight out the window. My legs cross on instinct, and I silently pray Iris does not notice my whole mood shift.
Heaven heads straight for the microwave, sets her mug inside, and presses a button. The soft hum fills the kitchen. She leans against the counter, arms folded, watching me.
No, not watching me, but eye-fucking me.
I break eye contact immediately, heat rushing up my neck. I focus back on Iris’s story even though I have not heard the last five sentences.
“—and girl, let me tell you,” Iris says, laughing into the phone. “Ezra tried to cook for our first Christmas together and almost burned down my daddy’s mansion.”
“Oh wow,” I manage, forcing a smile.
Before I can add anything else, I feel a presence behind me.
Warm. Too close.
Heaven.
She leans in, her voice calm and smooth. “Iris, she is telling that story wrong.”
I freeze.
Every muscle in my body tightens.
Heaven’s hand rests on the small of my back, then slowly slides lower. Not enough to cross a line. Just enough to make my whole chest tighten.
Iris gasps dramatically. “Oh Lord, here she go. Heaven, don’t you lie.”
“I am not lying,” Heaven says, dragging her fingertips across my hip, down the back of my leg, and back up again, slow and teasing.
My breath catches in my throat. She knows exactly what she is doing.
“You were cooking and forgot the tablecloth near the stove. My brother turned up the flames and caught the tablecloth on fire.”
“I already said that,” Iris argues.
“No, you did not,” Heaven murmurs, her breath ghosting the back of my neck.
I grip the edge of the counter. Hard.
Heaven puts her foot between my legs, nudging me to separate them as she slips her hand between my thighs.
Iris continues, completely unaware. “Well, whatever it was, the fire alarm went off and your brother screamed louder than the alarm.”
I snort at that, barely able to hold it together while Heaven’s hand slides back up, higher this time. She does it so casually.
Heaven’s fingers softly press into the curve of my hip. “And he cried.”
“Heaven!” Iris shouts through the phone.
I burst out laughing, half because of the story and half because Heaven is literally behind me making my entire body forget how to function.
Iris is still talking when Heaven’s arms slide around me from behind, and her short curls tickle my neck as she presses that innocent doll-face to the spot just below my ear.
“Keep talking,” she whispers, and then two fingers spear into me so deep my vision whites out.
I choke on air. Heaven starts finger-fucking me like she is trying to ruin me for anyone else. The wet sound is obscene, loud enough that I am terrified Iris will hear, but the storm swallows most of it.
“You okay, Sutton?” Iris asks, suspicious.
Heaven curls her fingers hard, grinding against my front wall, and I almost drop the phone. On FaceTime, Iris can only see my face. I am trying so hard to keep it stone-like, smiling hard.
My thighs shake against hers. Her thumb finds my clit and pinches. I am going to come again. Already.
Then she stops, going to the cabinet nearby, only to come back, reaching over to the camera button and turning it off in one quick motion.
I sob into the hand she clamps over my mouth, hips chasing nothing.
That is when I feel a thick item near my center.
Looking back at her, she gives me a devilish grin.
I look down to find the candy cane covered with a condom, thick and ridged.
She drags it through my folds slowly, coating every stripe in my slick until it disappears in my pussy.
“Look at you dripping all over Christmas,” she murmurs, low in my ear.
She pushes it in, slow, relentless. The hooked end seats deep, stretching me wide, peppermint stinging deliciously against raw nerves. My back arches hard as I take every inch. Heaven twists it, grinding the curve right into my g-spot, and my eyes roll back.
Iris keeps talking. I cannot hear a word.
Heaven grabs the phone and lays it beside the sink. Then she starts fucking me with the candy cane, long, filthy strokes that make my pussy gush around the sugar. Each ridge drags over my walls until I am shaking so hard, it feels like I am about to leave my body.
“Tell her you are busy,” Heaven purrs.
“Iris, I, fuck—”
Heaven slams the candy cane deep and holds it, rolling it in tight circles while her other hand pinches my clit hard.
The orgasm rips through me like lightning.
I come screaming into her palm, squirting so hard it splashes the cabinets, my thighs, the floor.
My pussy spasms around the thick shaft, milking it, trying to pull it deeper.
Heaven eases it out slowly. It is glazed thick and white, dripping with me. She removes the condom and brings the candy cane to her full lips, licks a long stripe up the shaft, and moans like it is the best thing she has ever tasted.
I can hear Iris muttering, “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” I say.
Heaven leans down, lips close to my ear. “Are you having fun?”
My breath stutters. “I—yeah. Iris is hilarious.”
“Good,” Heaven whispers. “Finish your call.”
She gives my hip one last slow stroke before pulling away. I swallow hard, trying not to melt right there in the middle of her kitchen.
Iris keeps talking like nothing happened, but my whole mind is spinning.
“Iris, I got to let you go,” I moan out.
Heaven hangs up, a satisfied smile on her face.
She turns to the cocoa mug still steaming on the counter.
Without breaking eye contact, she slides the soaked candy cane into the dark liquid like a stir stick.
My cum melts off in thick white ribbons.
She stirs once, twice, then lifts the mug to her mouth.
She drinks.
Slowly. Deeply. Her throat works as she swallows, eyes never leaving mine.
A bead of cocoa mixed with me clings to her bottom lip; she chases it with the candy cane, tongue curling around the hooked end, licking it spotless with soft, obscene moans.
She sucks the entire length into her mouth, cheeks hollowing, throat bobbing, until every trace of me is gone.
Then she pulls it out with a wet pop, licks her lips, and smiles that sweet, dangerous smile.
“Tastes like Christmas,” she says, voice husky. “Tastes like you.”
I cannot move. Cannot breathe. My pussy is still clenching around nothing, thighs soaked. All I can do is watch her take another slow sip, tongue chasing the last melted stripe of peppermint and me, and know I am completely, utterly hers for the holidays.
Heaven steps closer with a candy cane in her mouth. “Open your mouth.”
I open my mouth and lick the candy cane.
Heaven’s eyes darken before she smirks.
“I will be back with something to clean up,” she murmurs, then turns away like she did not just ruin my entire nervous system.
I am still in awe.
Still trying to breathe.
What time is it?
I look around for a clock in the kitchen, then see Heaven’s phone on the counter. I grab it without thinking.
A text message flashes on her screen.
Maybe Wifey.
What the fuck?
I set the phone down immediately.
It does not even cross my mind that Heaven might not be single. Maybe it is her best friend or something. I call Dayana my wife all the time.
Biting my nail, I tap the screen again.
Two missed text messages from “Maybe Wifey” pop up.
I miss you so much. Come back home.
I need you, baby.
(photo attachment)
I do not have to open it to know exactly what kind of photo it is.
My stomach drops.
And just like that, reality walks into the room, completely uninvited.
Of course I would fall for someone who is not available.
Of course.
I walk out of the kitchen, straight into Heaven.
“Where are you going?” She smiles like everything is normal.
“I am going to my room.”
I refuse to make eye contact.
I was stupid to think she was not like the other men and women I have dealt with.
Cheating ass hoe.
“Are you okay?” she asks, trying to meet my eyes, but I stare past her.
“I am tired. I need to rest before I leave tomorrow.”
The words come out hard. Sharp.
“Uh, okay. Well, if you need anything, let me know.”
She hands me a warm towel.
“Alright. Well… goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Shortcake.”
“Shortcake?” I spin around. “You giving out nicknames now?”
She is going to piss me off.
How can she stand there so charming after what she did?
“Yeah. You bake, you are short as hell, and you taste like strawberries.”
Her eyes flick to my hair. “Gives very strawberry shortcake.”
“I am five-two, by the way. Almost average height,” I snap.
“And fine too. Beyond average looking,” she shoots back.
Okay. That comment gives me another heartbeat downstairs.
There is no reason I should be reacting to that.
But here I am.
I straighten my shoulders.
I refuse to let her reel me back in.
“Where are you going to sleep?” I whisper.
God.
Why did I ask that?
“On the couch,” she smirks. “You got a better option for me, Shortcake?”
She steps closer, and I feel the full impact of her height, her warmth, her everything.
“Sutton. What is wrong?”
“Nothing.”
I turn and head for the bedroom before she breaks me completely.
I glance back once.
She is still watching me walk away, like she is deciding something she should not be deciding.
One day, Sutton.
You can hold out for one more day.