Page 57 of A Tinsel Tale

“It’s right up there with my blanket. Two out of two. You’re on a roll.”

He hops up from the couch. “Hang on a sec. Close your eyes and don’t peek.” I comply and hear rustling around the tree. “Okay. You can open them now.”

“Oh my God! A telescope. I’ve always wanted one.” I gasp and jump up to throw myself at him and land a big sloppy kiss on his lips. “You are the very best man on this planet.”

“What about Coach?” he teases.

“Shut up and kiss me,” I say. He does. Like a volcano erupting, we’re suddenly wild, ripping at each other’s clothes as we stumble to his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing as we go.

We’re both panting when we dive onto the bed. He covers my body with his. Our underwear is the only barrier between us. His chest presses against my full breasts, and I spread my legs wide to feel more of his cock against my sweet spot. He greedily takes control, a certain desperation to his lovemaking. He winds my hair around his hand, bunching it close to my skull, holding me there as he plunders my mouth, tongue pushing, entangling with mine.

He reaches under me with his other hand and unclasps my bra. I hold up my arms and he slides the thin lace off before flinging it aside. Skin on skin, his chest hair abrades my sensitive nipples. I arch into the sensation. He releases the grip on my hair and dips down, landing open kisses all over my body and I writhe under his skillful attention. His lips and mouth are hot and greedy, and my body is on fire.

He drags my panties down, and my thighs quiver as his lips and tongue leave a wet trail behind. When he gets to my ankles, he slips them over my feet, then cradles first one foot then the other, kissing my sensitive arches. I moan. It’s almost more than I can take. Every nerve in my body craves release. He stands long enough to yank off his briefs, never breaking eye contact. His eyes are intense, dark pools that sear my soul. They’re burning embers, spitting flames that strip me of my will and I surrender completely.

He straddles me, shoving both hands through my hair, now a tangled, tousled mane splayed across the duvet. Breath ragged he says, “I’ll never get enough of you.”

When he dips his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth I cry out. He palms my breast, suckling until I think I’ll lose my ever-lovin’ mind, then he switches to my other breast, giving it the same expert attention. I clutch his head between my hands, holding him there while his hot wet mouth exquisitely tortures me. Eyes glazed, he releases my nipple and rolls onto his back taking me with him.

I’m straddling him, his hard cock perfectly aligned between my thighs. I circle my hips rubbing myself against him as he grips my hips growling. I fist his cock and shift, engaging my quads as I hover over him. His heavy-lidded gaze watches me as I slowly sink down, taking his full length inside of me. He grunts thrusting upwards and I rock my pelvis. He moans as my muscles contract around his cock.

“Fuck, Evie, you are so perfect.” He trails his hands up my torso then palms my breasts. I begin to move faster, gyrating and rolling my hips, using him for my pleasure. My movements escalate, becoming unsteady as I lose control. I bite my lip, our gazes locked as I ride him.

“I’m about to come,” he says, his voice hoarse like he’s coming undone. I tighten my muscles around his cock and lean forward my hands on either side of him, my hair tumbling around his chest. My nipples harden as they brush against him. He meets me thrust for thrust. I am so very close, I feel the heat building, my body pulsating around his cock as I climax. I’m barely coherent as he pants my name and I collapse on top of him. I’m limp. A liquified puddle of sensation.

We lay spent and satiated our breath mingling, slowly returning to normal. Our bodies are slick with sweat. His face is buried in my hair and I can feel the steady beat of his heart.

“Tails, I win,” I say and we both laugh weakly, too spent to accomplish much more.

31

EVIE

Isneak in the front door and tiptoe quietly up the stairs, so I don’t disturb Dad or the dogs. It’s six am and I’m floating on postcoital bliss. Jamie and I showered together before I left and made love again. It was hard to leave. He’s on duty for the next twenty-four hours and left when I did. It feels like we’re counting down the days before I leave, even though we’re trying hard not to. We’re both pretty good at pretending this can go on forever, but it’s there in the background. I pile my hair up on top of my head, slip into sweats and a soft sweater and go back downstairs to put on a pot of coffee.

Dad left me a note by the coffee pot.Merry Christmas, Kiddo. You’ll always be my little girl. Love, Dad.My eyes sting with fresh tears. I guess I’m making up for lost time. I haven’t cried this much in forever. I scoop the coffee into the filter, fill the reservoir and hit the brew button then stare out the window at the dark lake outside. Dawn will be breaking soon.

I hear the rooster crow as the smell of fresh coffee fills the air. I pull down my mom’s special mug. Her favorite, and the only one she ever used. It was one I’d made for her in a high school pottery class I took freshman year. An amateurish attempt, but she’d loved it. On the bottom, I’d engraved a heart withWorld’s best momwritten inside the heart.This is the one I’ll use today, Mom. Merry Christmas. I love you.

The dogs hear me puttering around and join me, tails wagging. “Merry Christmas you two.” I grab biscuits from the canister and make them sit. “Good babies,” I say. “Take it nice.” They take their treats angelically then run to the living room and gobble them down. I let them outside to do their business and watch them romp in the freshly fallen snow. I start a fire in the fireplace then plug in the tree. The coffee maker beeps, and I pour myself a steaming cuppa, add half and half, and snuggle into the overstuffed club chair in front of the fire, feet curled under me.

After Dad gets up, I’ll prepare the horses’ special warm winter mash and give them their Christmas treats before I muck stalls. I sigh. I’m sure going to miss that routine. I love the Zen of the barn, where time ceases to exist. I frown thinking about the office and the pressures that go with my job. It seems so far away. A lifetime ago. I’m a different person than the one that drove away from Chicago five weeks ago. Maybe that’s not quite right. Maybe I rediscovered the person I used to be before escapism and ambition took over. I thought that Evie was long gone. The one that had hopes and dreams. That wasn’t afraid to feel. The one with an open heart. My phone pings with a text. I pull it out of my pocket and smile.

Jamie: I miss you.

His timing is on point. I quickly type back.

Me: I miss you too. XOXO

I slip my phone back in my pocket.

“Merry Christmas, Kiddo,” Dad says. “Coffee smells good.”

“Want me to pour you a cup?” I ask.

“Don’t get up. I’ll help myself. I’m no longer an invalid you know.”

“I know. But I may as well spoil you while I can.” I stand and stretch, then yawn loudly.

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