*147: Merry Christmas, Baby

December 25

Charlie was burning up.  There was an inferno of heat that she couldn’t seem to escape.  When she moaned and tried to shift away, the pillar of heat banding her chest tightened. 

“I want you.”

Jon.

The desire to escape dissipated, replaced by a reciprocal heat that only blazed hotter when confident fingers pushed into the front of her panties, cupping her mound possessively before burrowing between her thighs.  Tender lips suckled at the pulse in her neck, and ragged breaths came in surround sound while that arm around her angled lower. 

Jon plucked at a nipple, taking it from pliant to stiff by squeezing and rolling at the same time his knee found the back of hers.  A gently insistent shove had their left legs bending in tandem, and if she hadn’t been wearing panties, Charlie would’ve been open to the swollen appendage bumping her from behind.    

“Beg me for it, Counselor,” he ordered sternly, gripping the scrap of silk that was the only thing she’d worn to bed last night. 

There was an uncomfortable but brief pressure before the seams gave way, and he separated the decimated garment from her body.  Predatory fingers now had unrestricted access to her slit, and when he took full advantage, Charlie was sorely tempted to lay back to simply being his prey.   

Unfortunately, that just wasn’t how she was built.  He stirred hormones that were as unruly as the caveman hands pawing her flesh, and she reared back, unintentionally inviting him to nip at the exposed column of her neck. 

“No,” she rumbled after hissing at the sting of teeth.  “You woke me up.  You damn-well better make it worth my while.”

There was a dark growl rolling in the back of his throat as Jon tried to cram his hard-on inside her, but he hadn’t done enough prep work for it to happen that effortlessly.  She wasn’t sure if the swear that singed her skin was directed at her obstinance or their uncooperative bodies. 

When he doggedly worked two fingers into the channel made tight by her compressed thighs, she decided she didn’t care.

He pumped those fingers harshly, without concern for finesse.  Her lover was a man on a mission, and he was so tenacious in pursuing it that the valley of her sex flooded in seconds.  His grunt was nothing but testosterone-fueled satisfaction as he took the byproduct of his handwork and worked it into the surrounding skin, lubricating the path he wanted to travel and then going further. 

Her clit was doused with the first dip of his fingers.  Another dip scooped out enough honeyed arousal to slick Charlie’s outer lips and a third, unnecessary, trip to the well was used to gloss between her buttocks.  He was ensuring her body’s welcome, no matter what his angle of approach.

His methodical saturation of everything she held private – his overwhelming carnal desire for her – turned Charlie on in a wicked way that had her clit thumping with the vibrating intensity of a kettle drum.  Each pulse was a painfully sadistic show of foreplay that maddened her.

“Fuck me, goddamm-  Unh!”

“That what you want, you foul-mouthed Brooklyn girl?” he ground the words in her ear as crudely as his cock ground her from behind. Oh, sweet Jesus, that was exactly what she wanted.

Or so she thought until the fingers that had been thoroughly lubricating her chassis turned to man-handling her clit.  That was better.  Or was it the combination of the two?  She writhed against both, trying to make the determination.

“That’s it, beautiful.  Hump my hand and ride my cock.  I get so fucking hard when you start taking what you want.  So fucking passionate.”

“Unnh.  Mmhh.  Nnnngh!” 

The way he was spooned behind her with their legs bent, it was as though Charlie was sitting on his lap, and each raging thrust smacked his hairy thighs into the back of her smooth ones.  The sensual abrasion was mirrored in the press of muscular chest against her shoulder blades, heightening the tactile pleasure that only he could provide. 

She gave an anguished cry when his hand abandoned the aching slip and slide of her sex so that he could cinch that forearm low across her hips. 

“Play with yourself, and don’t fuck around.  I gotta come in that hot pussy.  I gotta pound.”

What was it that turned vile and crude words into an aphrodisiac like no other?  Every time his uncensored gutter talk found her ear, as loud as a public-address system but so intimate that no one else could ever hear, she found herself poised to explode like a destructive volcano.  It muscled out her stubborn independence and transformed Charlie into an unquestioningly obedient lover who eager took over the manipulation of her clit while he pummeled. 

That’s how she came to feel each new wet wave incited by the frantic grunting that wrapped her in erotica – and the flood was building to Biblical proportions.  His pull on her nipples hovered on that mystical line between pleasure and pain as the iron band over her abdomen kept Charlie from being bucked off the bed. 

“Fuck.  Fuck.  Goddammit. Fuck!”  Was it him swearing or her?  She didn’t know.  She didn’t care.  She only knew that each word shoved her one brutal step closer to the edge.  “Diddle faster, baby.  I’m… about….  Ggggaahhh!”

The hot splatter deep inside was the first domino that tipped, initiating the chain reaction of events that would write the happily ever after to her orgasmic story. 

Her furious finger work went eerily still for the microcosmic fraction of time between recognizing that Nirvana was coming and actually feeling the effects.  When it hit with the power of a sonic boom, she convulsed uncontrollably against him.  Her bottom ground into his pelvis, her internal muscles spasmed in an excruciating way, and her limbs quaked with the magnitude of it all.  The only thing she could consciously do was absorb the sweet encouragement that he whispered while riding the coattails of his own Nirvana.

“That’s it, Counselor.  Feel it.  Savor every goddamn bit of it.  So good.  Jesus, you’re so good.”

Charlie’s eyes fell heavily closed in the near-silent aftermath.  There was nothing but sticky, sweaty bodies still vying to meld into one, reedy breaths and… contentment. 

Christmas held a special place in her heart.  It was the one time of the year when everyone seemed to be a bit softer, a little more tolerant and generally more appreciative. 

That’s how she felt this morning – like the edges of her soul were smudged with a dry brush as she lay so thoroughly sated in the arms of her lover.  Angels, silent nights and peace on earth meandered like liquid gold through her veins, enhancing the profound beauty of two trusting hearts sharing their bodies without reservation.  It was almost enough to make her misty-eyed.

The mental reference to the dry brush stirred the recollection of Christmas Eve spent with just them and their collective kids, and she bypassed misty altogether.  Tears blurred the artwork on the far wall, and Charlie swallowed while quietly choking on the lump in her throat.

Noah and Caleb made pizza for dinner before they sat together around the tree to exchange gifts – as a family.  Knowing that they’d be spending the holiday together, each of the kids made a point of getting something for one another.  The gifts weren’t extravagant, or even particularly original – hats, sweaters, iTunes gift cards, and socks were what she could remember off the top of her head. 

It was like pulling teeth, but she and Jon finally settled on giving his kids a variety of electronic devices, and gift cards for places they liked to shop.  By all appearances, her boys got the short end of the stick with a few clothing items and a couple of video games, but they’d get their “real” gifts this morning.  Jon also unwrapped the watch Charlie decided on as her token gift to him. 

She’d been so busy shopping for all of them in between cooking and painting, that she hadn’t consciously considered that they might be shopping for her.  That’s why it didn’t faze her in the least when no package came from under the tree bearing her name. 

At about eight o’clock the Bongiovi kids donned their jackets for the trip back to the city, where they’d spend the night their mother and return to New Jersey on Christmas afternoon.  When Jon suggested walking them out, she took the hand he offered and followed agreeably along – and her boys followed along behind her. 

As they were opening the front door, Caleb requested to see Jon’s studio, with Noah quickly echoing his brother’s suggestion.  Jon’s kids joined in by saying they hadn’t been up there since the mural was added, and he was left to shrug helplessly at Charlie. 

In the spirit of the season, she followed the entourage over toward the studio, but rather than climbing the outside stairs, Noah strode confidently up to the downstairs door.  She knew it led to the garage bay housing Jon’s motorcycles and called out to her son that it was the wrong door, but Jon quietly shushed her.

The light flicked on and all six kids trooped through that door, leaving Charlie to pause outside.  Disregarding her questioning look, Jon nudged her through behind them, and when she stepped inside…

Even now, the tears welled in her eyes, sliding down her face into the pillow.   

Jon and the kids – not just her kids, but all the kids – gifted Charlie with her very own studio on the Navesink, complete with a new easel, canvases, a high-tech stool and all the accessories she could ever want.  According to Jake, there would also be windows installed next week to enhance the natural light and give her a view of the river.  Installing them this week would’ve obviously ruined the surprise.

With the sun lifting in the sky and the sweetest asshole in the world nestled behind her, Charlie sniffed and sighed with happiness.  There really was nothing more that she could ask for – other than for Jon to accept his real Christmas gift without argument. 

She’d worried for weeks about his acceptance of Millie’s money and still had several more hours of her life to waste doing the same.  There were a million food details and a couple more gifts to bestow before they reached that point in the day, but she pushed all of it aside for just a little while longer.  This was their first Christmas together, and she wanted to cherish the moment.

Unaware of her wishes or intentions, Jon stirred behind her and yawned.  She guessed she wasn’t the only one who was in the mood to cherish, because soft lips caressed the side of her neck as he snuggled closed to murmur a lethargic, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

A lazy smile nudged up the corners of her mouth as Charlie awkwardly attempted to hug the arms that encircled her like sleeping pythons.

 “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”