Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 19091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
After we’d first fallen over each other like horny teens, so clouded by lust we’d forgotten protection, I’d made sure to don some when I took Kenna into my room to make love to her. She made me laugh as I carried her out of Michael’s room, anxious about throwing his bedcovers in the laundry all the while assuring me she thought she wasn’t in the right place in her cycle and we should be okay.
Despite what I’d said to her, there was still a part of me worried that I was going to be the one who got my heart broken. That Kenna was still grieving and looking for a place to latch on to in her grief. That when she finally started to heal, she’d realize that and leave us.
But seeing her look so hurt thinking I only wanted her body, I couldn’t let it stand. I couldn’t bear to see her in pain.
And I wanted her so badly.
So I gave in.
Even as worries spun in my head about how this would affect Michael, I couldn’t deny how perfect she felt in my arms.
Brushing her hair off her neck, I trailed light kisses over her soft skin. She squirmed in her sleep, undulating her perfect arse against my cock.
Jesus, she was turning me into a teenage boy.
Reaching back for the nightstand, I grabbed protection and suited up. Then I set about waking Kenna with my fingers. Hot blood thickened my cock from semi to full mast in an instant at the feel of her warmth. I found her clit and circled it.
Kenna moaned, her eyes fluttering open. It took her a second to get her bearings. She glanced over her shoulder and her expression softened at the same time her lips parted on an excited gasp. “Haydyn?”
“Happy Christmas, sweetheart.”
“Happy,” she moaned, her fingers tightening around the pillow beneath her head. “C-Christmas. Ahhh, Haydyn.”
Feeling her grow wet, I couldn’t wait any longer. I gripped her hips and nudged her legs open. Finding her, I surged inside, squeezing my eyes closed at the perfection of her snug heat around my cock.
Our groans and cries filled the bedroom as I gently made love to her.
We came together. “Kenna,” I groaned, shuddering against her as I trailed my mouth down her shoulder. “You’re so perfect.”
“That was certainly the perfect way to wake up.” She giggled, and the sound filled me with a strange mix of happiness and desperation.
I didn’t want to lose her.
Not yet.
Thus, I wasn’t going to push the subject. We’d just enjoy each other today. We’d help each other forget about the people we were missing.
Just as I returned from the bathroom after cleaning up, my phone rang on the bedside table. “It’s Michael,” I told Kenna as she sat up in bed.
She smiled but bit her lip shyly, making me want to kiss her. Instead, I grabbed my phone, eager to hear my son’s voice.
“Happy Christmas, Michael,” I answered.
“Dad! Happy Christmas!” He sounded excited and a pang of longing hit me. “I can’t wait to come home and open my presents!”
I’d told him Santa would drop off his presents from me here at the house so I could still experience a bit of Christmas with him when Deena brought him home tomorrow.
“Did Santa bring you cool stuff at your mum’s?”
“You can stop with the Santa stuff. Jim told me he’s not real.”
Anger tightened my throat and I choked out, “Jim told you Santa isn’t real?”
I heard Kenna suck in a breath and looked at her. She glowered ferociously and mouthed “Fucking asshole” and I think I fell just a wee bit more in love with her.
“I’m ten, Dad, nearly eleven. I kind of already knew.”
“Well, Santa doesn’t visit people who don’t believe in him, so that’s probably why Jim thinks he doesn’t exist.”
“Dad.” Michael laughed. “You don’t have to pretend. Okay?”
I wanted to fucking kill Jim. It was bad enough Michael was growing up so fast … did we as adults have to force them out of childhood? When I was a kid, there was nothing more magical than believing in Santa. Yes, it was heartbreaking when I discovered he wasn’t real, but I wouldn’t trade it for how bloody magical those eleven years of my life were when I still believed in him.
Changing the subject, I asked him what they were up to. Michael chatted away about the new phone Deena had bought him and games for his games console. Then he got quiet and asked, “Can I stay at home for Christmas next year?”
My heart lurched. “Why? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. I just … I like our traditions better. And I thought maybe I could just stay with Mum one weekend a month instead of at Christmas.”
I smiled as I sat down on the bed. “We’ll figure something out. But if you want to spend your Christmases at home from now on, you can.”