Christian wraps his arms around me as we watch the glow of the lights on the Christmas tree. Theodore and Phoebe have gone to bed and, for the first time in quite a long time, it's just us. I steal a glance up at him, his bold eyes fixed on the gifts laid out under the tree. He's still just as beautiful as ever; still just as bold and strong. He still needs me like the night needs day and I still love him like my life depends on it. It's amazing to think how we got here – and to imagine how close we came to losing it all.
He seems to be lost in thought and I find myself wondering what ideas are coursing through his brain. Is he thinking about work? The kids? Christmas?
The fire crackles next to him, startling me.
"You okay?" he asks. He always worries about me too much.
"I'm fine."
I smile up at him and he kisses my forehead. I have something special planned for him tonight and I hope that it makes him the happiest he's ever been.
"Why do you keep staring at me?" he asks with a grin.
"Just wondering what you're thinking, that's all," I respond playfully.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Just can't stop wondering how I got so lucky."
His sincerity is always so startling and I lean up to give him a warm and passionate kiss. "I wonder the same thing about myself every day," I whisper.
I know he'll never see it that way. He'll never realize that I'm the lucky one. But that's the man I married. I'll spend my lifetime trying to show him how amazing, kind, and loving he is. And every day he'll get just an inch closer to believing it.
His kiss deepens and his tongue begins to explore my mouth. Just as I'm about to jump in his lamp, Phoebe cries out.
Damn it.
"I'll be right back," I whisper.
I rush up the stairs, two at a time, hoping Phoebe doesn't have any major requests.
I luck out. She just wants her bottle; it has fallen out of reach. I quickly return it to her and bolt back down the stairs to my love.
I realize, however, as I reach the bottom of the stairs that all the lights are out. Even the Christmas tree isn't lit. I begin to wonder if we lost power. I look around for Christian but I can't see anything.
"Christian?" I call. I fumble around for the armoire that sits right next to the stairs and it helps me get my bearings.
"Christian?" I call again. I'm starting to get nervous. Where did he go?
Then I hear it. Quietly, almost inaudibly, Christian whispers, "I'm here baby."
I turn towards the Christmas tree. I still can't see anything. "Christian, where are you? I can't see a thing."
"Come to me, baby. I'm here," he whispers again.
I take a few steps towards the couch where we were cuddling.
"Are you messing with me?" I ask.
"Just keep coming. Follow the sound of my voice."
He's still speaking so softly, I can barely make out the direction of his voice. But I stumble towards the sound, straining my ears to hear him again.
"You're almost here, baby. I'm waiting for you."
I reach my hand out to touch the Christmas tree and I know I must be close. He has to be nearby.
"Christian? I'm scared!" I hiss.
And then I feel it: the stroke of a riding crop at the base of my neck. Tingles run down my spine and my breath catches. The crop slowly strokes my back downward, over the top of my tank top, then to the base of my spine where it creeps underneath my shirt.
The crop pauses and I feel his breath on my neck. "I'm right here, baby."
My body shudders in the most delightful way. He's teasing me. And it's working – I'm terrified. But I'm also overwhelmed by the tickle of his sensual weapon. My hairs are all standing on end and I can't wait to find out what he's going to do next.
He steps back and I feel the crop sneak up underneath my top, making circles on my back. I exhale deeply, my groin clenching as the crop creeps around to my belly. Slowly and methodically, the crop pulls my top upwards and over my head so I'm standing topless in the middle of the living room. I still can't see a thing and I still haven't seen Christian. I can only hear him.
"Put your hands in the air," he orders.
I raise my hands over my head and the crop carasses my side just under my armpit. It tickles and I giggle. He slaps me gently with the crop.
"Hold still. Stop giggling."
I stifle myself and try to hold still. I feel him move around me until he's in front of me. I can see his shadow against the glass of the sliding back door. He glides the crop up my neck and under my chin, lifting it high so I'm looking at the ceiling.
"I love your neck," he whispers.
He runs the crop up to my cheek.
"I love your cheeks."
The crop continues to my head.
"I love your hair."
The crop then skips over to my arm and slides slowly upward to my hands. It tickles the tips of my fingers.
"I love your fingers."
He strokes downward and slaps my arm just below the elbow. I can't help but release a small screech at the unexpected pain. He continues downward, stopping at my belly.
"I love your belly button."
He slaps again. This time I don't make a peep. He continues downward, poking the crop underneath my pajama pants and down between my legs.
"I love this part of you best."
I heave a sensual sigh as he massages me. I move with the crop, wishing it were his fingers between my legs.
"I want you," I whisper.
"Do you now, Ana?" he teases.
"Yes. Now."
"You're too impatient. You'll need to be patient or I will punish you."
I take a deep breath and try to keep myself together. He pulls the crop out of my pants and everything goes quiet. I can't see him anymore. I can't hear him anymore. Where did he go?
Like lightening the crop connects with my lower back and I jump in surprise. It aims lower and strikes again on my right butt cheek. I reach back to find him, but he's too far away. Another strike comes at my left butt cheek and I moan.
"Christian, please…"
He inserts the crop into my pajama pants again, slowly snaking them down my legs until they're on the floor with my panties.
"Step out," he orders. I obey. "Turn around."
I turn around so that I believe I'm facing him, but I still can't see him. He steps closer so I can hear him breathing again and he begins to circle around me, dragging the crop so it grazes my legs. His shoulder grazes my nipples which harden under his touch. His finger traces my rib cage, just under my breasts. I'm fighting to keep from jumping him. His face pulls in close, as if to kiss me, then pulls away. Over and over he does this. I'm beginning to lose my patience. I want him. I need him. And I need him now.
Just as I'm poised to launch an attack, he shoves me backward so my bare back is up against the sliding glass door. His body is pressed so hard against me, I can feel his erection under those smoking hot ripped jeans I love. I wish I could see them – hanging off his hips in that perfect way, making him look like a present I want to unwrap and suck on.
His face is in my neck, kissing and sucking while he suspends my hands in place over my head. It's like the first time we kissed. In the elevator. It feels so much more sensual in the dark. He pulls back and looks me in the eye. I can see him a little bit better with the light from the back porch – his chiseled jaw is determined and I can see fire burning in his eyes.
"I want to take you now," he roars, "but first, I want you to undress me."
With pleasure. He releases me and I kneel down, slowly unbuttoning his jeans one-by-one. I caress his toned legs as I pull his pants down. His cock looks so hot and hard and I can't help but plunge right in. I pull him into my mouth, sucking, drinking him in. He groans loudly – God, I love it when he does that. I slide one hand down to my clitoris, where he taught me to touch myself, and I massage myself while my tongue teases him.
"Up, Ana, Up," he commands, "I want to see you when I come."
I take one last belabored suck – to which he moans loudly - and then stand as he has requested. He grabs my hands and begins wrapping something around them. It feels like wire. It doesn't take long for me to realize – it's a string of Christmas lights. He pulls them over the curtain rod and secures them into place so I'm tied and at his mercy. He runs his fingers through my hair, his eyes boring into mine. He gives me one more passionate kiss, splits my legs apart with his knee, and then enters me forcefully.
He pushes so hard, my feet fly off the ground and I wrap them around his hips. He thrusts again and again, the string of lights digging in my wrists and his tongue reaching deep into my throat. My body responds ecstatically, pushing me higher, higher….
We both come together, screaming and exploding.
"Ana, oh God, Ana," Christian cries.
The blissful feeling fills me to the brim and I follow the rhythm of my orgasm all the way from the peak of the mountain to the calm of the valley. We both stand panting. Christian's hands are all over my face and in my hair as his lips trail kisses down my cheeks, my chin, my neck. He returns to my face and nibbles my lip.
"I love your lips the best," he murmurs.
He releases my hands from the Christmas lights and I collapse in his arms. I mumble something about being tired.
"Hang on, baby," he says, "I'm not quite done with you yet."
Not done with me? Between the baby who doesn't sleep, the Christmas shopping, and Christian's amazing fuck, I don't have a whole lot left.
He turns me around so I'm facing away from him and pulls my hair behind my shoulders. His hands shuffle for something behind him and then return to my vision as he places a small necklace around my neck.
It's gorgeous. It is set with rows of diamonds up the chain and a small white pearl at the focal point.
"It reminds me of how you were my first vanilla sex," he says.
I giggle. "It's beautiful, Christian, thank you."
"I think it looks best on you naked."
I smile to myself. He tried so hard in the beginning to convince me he wasn't a romantic. And yet at every turn there is more and more proof that he truly is.
"Now whenever you go out, I can watch and think about how I'm the only one who gets to see you with this necklace in your most beautiful form."
I turn to him and trace his face with my fingers. His eyes still look sorrowful and cold, just like the day I met him. But his heart beats stronger and his gaze penetrates deeper. He has changed in some small way. And so have I.
"I got you something too," I say.
"I don't need anything. I just want you. And you already gave me that."
He runs his thumb over my wedding ring.
"I know," I say, nervously as I prepare myself for what I'm about to do, "but I have something very special for you. I've wanted to give it to you for ages, but I haven't been ready. Now I am," I take a deep breath, "and I hope you like it."
Christian looks at me curiously. I pull him closer to the sliding glass door so he can see my face clearly. I clear my throat and then, with great animation, I roll my eyes.
I wide grin spreads across Christian's face. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?"
I feign innocence. "Who, me? Why would I ever do such a thing?"
I can see his palm twitching with excitement as he guides me over to the couch. He lays me across his knee and breaths in deeply. I know he is enjoying every moment of this and it feels wonderful.
He leans in so his lips are by my ear. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to do this."
I look up at him and kiss him deeply. "I am sure."
His hand caresses my left buttock as he drinks in the moment. I don't even cringe when he raises his hand in the air in preparation for the first hit.
"Merry Christmas, Christian," I whisper.