Author's Notes:

THIS "BEDTIME STORY" IS FOR ALL OF YOU ON SANTA'S "GOOD" LIST!

Those of you on Santa's "NAUGHTY" list...Stay tuned!

Read how Maxon and America spend their first Christmas together.

This was a suggestion by a Guest reviewer.

To my beta-reader supergirls2008 -I'm running out of adjectives to describe your awesomeness!

WARNING! For graphic sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All other readers please continue on and...

Enjoy!

~Sweetwaterspice


Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories

"Because of You"

(A Maxerica Christmas Story)

"Anyone can catch your eye but it takes someone special to catch your heart"

~ Anonymous

~ Maxon

"America, stop asking so many questions," I retort as I hold on to her hand. She's wearing a blindfold as we're making our way from the ornately decorated Great Room.

It's Christmas eve.

"If you'd only answer just one, Maxon!"

"You agreed, remember? No questions after putting on the blindfold."

"I know. But, I didn't really think you literally meant Nooo, questions! Really, Maxon…Where are we going?" America asks again as I pull her along. I'm glad she's wearing the blindfold otherwise my smile would give me away.

I try to keep my voice even so as not to give away the excitement I'm feeling about the little surprise I have planned. "Patience is a virtue, darling. You'll find out soon enough."

It's late and most of the staff has retired early to spend this special time with family. America and I had hosted a dinner earlier in the evening for our personal staff and their families. My mother-in-law, Magda, along with America's siblings, May and Gerad along with Kenna and her husband, James and little Astra, were also present, although Kota said he would be unavailable to join us this time. America was furious but that was typical Kota, I reminded her. The Woodwork's and Aspen and his family were also in attendance enjoying the festivities. They were more like family now than friends, really.

I never remembered Christmas like this before as we presented personal gifts to each staff member. Sure, there had always been beautiful decorations, a massive tree and plenty of gifts; a full table with no shortage of good things to eat and drink but as I stood there, watching this room full of people, it wasn't the bounty of material things that filled me with joy. I had never had a house full of real friends and family. Their laughter and bright smiling faces made me feel whole.

Images of Magda fussing with Gerad as she wiped his face off with a napkin and Carter, in deep conversation with Harrison, both seeming to share an affinity for the outdoors came to mind. Marlee and Kenna huddled in a group that stood around the fireplace that included Mary and my aunt Adele, one holding a cup of eggnog, the former a glass of champagne. Their laughter resonated through the crowd. I couldn't help my smiling face as I scanned the room, finding May and Paige tucked away in a corner, no doubt secretively speaking of their latest crush. And speaking of romances, Aspen knelt next to Lucy as she sat in a chair, nursing a drink in her hand. America and I had an on-going bet as to when those two would be getting married. And then there was my sweet America. My heart fluttered and bubbled over with happiness. She was on her knees, her dress spilled around her in a pool of soft midnight blue, her hair gathered to the back in gentle curls. I was staring at the most beautiful woman in the world to me and the sound of her laughter captivated me. Her little niece waddled towards her with unsteady steps, giggling triumphantly as she reached her aunt's outstretched arms. America clapped and cheered, scooping her up, smothering her with kisses as little Astra giggled and wriggled in her loving arms. I wondered what it would be like to have a child of our own.

"Well, when you said you wanted to give me my gift, I wasn't expecting a blinded excursion through the palace, my Royal Husbandness. Because I can't possibly fathom what sort of gift this could be. Marlee wouldn't tell me anything either! She said you swore her to secrecy or else."

I couldn't help a laugh.

"Funny, is it?"

"Actually, yes…at least she can keep a secret...unlike your mother," I tease and America laughs.

"Uhh...Careful here. Watch your step," I say, turning to take both of her hands guiding her up.

"Are we going upstairs?" she asks, her hands gripping mine as she tentatively takes each step. "Is it your plan to seduce me while I'm blindfolded?"

"Hmmm…that's not a bad idea, now that you mention it. But…no, our bedroom is not our destination."

"That's unfortunate. It was a rather exciting thought."

"I'll keep that in mind for future reference."

We go up the necessary flights of steps all the while America is attempting to guess what it is I'm up to. With each guess, I only chuckle.

"Stop here," I say, opening a door. She reaches to touch the blindfold. "Uh-uh…hands down. No peeking." She smirks. I reach for her and she holds on, her fingers wrapping tight around my forearm, the other lays secure in my hand. "It's narrow, so take your time."

"Okay. Though I have to admit, Maxon, out of all your surprises, this one has me absolutely intrigued," she smiles.

We reach our destination and I push the door open with my shoulder. The cooler air greets us but I'm glad for the temperate weather. An advantage to living in Angeles.

"Are we outside?" she asks at once. The air is fresh and crisp.

I hold on to her hand and covering a small distance, I place her where I need her to stand. "Okay," I say. "Don't. Move."

She chuckles. "Not moving."

I stand behind her, my arms circling around her waist. "Okay…you can take it off now."

With sheer excitement, her fingers pull off the black fabric. "Maxon!" she gasps. "W-What?"

"Surprise," I whisper in her ear, kissing her temple.

She turns to me in my arms. America opens her mouth, then closes it. Then finding her voice asks, "How?"

I give a slight shrug. "A little creative imagination," I grin.

We are on the rooftop. Strings of white lights line the perimeter of the roof. A lighted tent with the entrance rolled back gives sight to a space dressed in colorful cushions, blankets and pillows reminiscent of our honeymoon. A small stand with a bucket of champagne on ice sits near the entrance.

She turns back to the tent, her eyes catching the strands of light wrapped around the parapet and her expression is priceless; a mix of surprise and wonder etched beautifully in her profile. My smile is as bright as hers.

She turns in to me, her arms circling my neck. Her eyes twinkle and her smile lights up again. She leans in to kiss me but then cries, "Maxon, look!" Her chin juts out to signal over my shoulder. She is pulling on my hand now and I follow her to the edge of the rooftop. "It's so beautiful." Her voice is soft, bathed in awe.

We stand there, her arms sliding around my waist, mine wrapping about her, looking out into the distance. As far as the eye can see – houses and rooftops decorated with lights, twinkling like brightly colored miniature stars, some in patterns others in synchronized flickers. Here, in the stillness of night was a tiny piece of our kingdom and it shone of hope and promises of a better tomorrow for all. America was right. It is beautiful.

I think back to our last Christmas. Although the day had come and gone without her, I had shown up to her room with her gifts in hand– the first love letters I had ever written and the framed picture of the pretty yellow house– the house her family would live in once we were married. I had been so happy to have her back home after her father's funeral. There was a sadness in her eyes when I first saw her. I didn't fully comprehend it at the time as empathetic and comforting as I tried to be. It was the day I had chosen her and I feel a sudden pang in my chest as the memory of how close I had come to almost losing her hits me.

I'm caught off-guard as she spins around and kisses me. I ease into the kiss seamlessly, pulling her in my arms, my palms flat against her back. A sense of pure relief washes over me. I did not lose her.

"Thank you. This is…this is better than I would've ever dreamed."

I smile. I can't help but wonder if she sees I would never be the same without her. My heart swells with thoughts of us; of her love for me. "Come."

We walk back holding hands. I stand at the entrance of the tent. I hand America a champagne glass as I grab the bottle by the neck from the bucket. America watches and she shrieks as the cork pops and goes flying in the air.

I fill her glass then mine. "To us."

"To us," she echoes as we touch our glasses and they gently clink.

She takes a sip and stares at me, her countenance thoughtful.

"What?" I grin, wondering what she's thinking.

"Do you remember," she starts, her tone delicate as if the memory she recalled was so fragile it would break, "the last time we were up here?" she asks.

I nod, taking a sip from my glass.

"We danced in the rain. It was one of the most romantic things I'd ever done. And you kissed me. Remember, Maxon?"

"How could I forget?" I feel my face soften as I look at her. Things were so uncertain between us back then.

"It felt so right. I knew…that very day…I knew I loved you. But I was too scared to tell you. I should've told you…"

I cup her face silencing her with a kiss. The taste of champagne and strawberries mingle on my tongue.

"That doesn't matter now," I say, brushing my lips against hers. "I know you love me. And I love to hear you say it."

"Maxon?" Our mouths are barely an inch apart. Her sweet breath brushes over my mouth.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Shivers run down my spine.

"Do really want to know what's on my mind?" she asks, her eyes falling to my lips.

"I'm dying to know…" I swallow feeling that all too familiar sensation I've come to associate with America.

She doesn't speak. Setting her glass down on the stand, she takes hold of the lapels of my jacket. I down my drink before following suit, placing my glass next to hers.

And she pulls me eagerly inside the tent.


"Oh my God!" America murmurs against my bare chest as she layers kisses from one side to the other, up to my collarbone. My chest continues to rise and fall in uneven breaths, having just experienced the earth shaking bliss from making love to my wife.

America rakes her fingers down my chest to my abdomen saying, "How do you keep getting better at this? You are an absolute stud."

I can't deny the bloom of pride I feel. "I promised to keep you happy, didn't I?" I say with a hint of smugness.

She grins. She draws my bottom lip between hers, while simultaneously pressing a hand down my thigh over to where she now fondles my softened member, which wipes the smug grin off my face in a flash. "You are extremely talented and oh so blessed with all of the right parts." She sighs. "I can say, I am a very happy woman." America entices another kiss from me finally adding, "I could ride you all night long."

A stream of shivers rush through me at her naughty words.

"You know," I tell her, my voice lowered and playfully threatening , "where that kind of talk only gets you."

She gives me a wry grin. "Why do you think I do it?"

I laugh. "You damn little minx."

"And you love getting me all hot and bothered, don't you?"

"I love the look on your face when you're hot for me."

She arches a delicate brow. "You know where that kind of talk only gets you, don't you?"

"Why do you think I do it?"

She laughs and then rubs her nose against mine. She lowers her lips to mine giving me a sweet kiss.

America shifts on to her side, propping her head on her hand. "Though, it isn't fair you sprung this surprise on me. I didn't have a chance to give you your gift."

"My gift is right here in my arms," I say, grabbing her and kissing her neck. She squirms, laughing as my lips tickle her.

"Seriously. You should have warned me."

"And ruin my plans? No. I don't think so. Which reminds me..." I say, sitting up under the sheets and reaching behind me to the corner of the tent. America is eyeing me curiously as I dig under the cushions. There it is. I fight back a smile. "Close your eyes."

She begins to protest as she sits up. "Maxon...we..."

"Indulge me, darling," I cut her off. "Come on. Close those beautiful eyes."

She smiles, her cheeks reddening. I love the fact that I can still induce such a reaction from her. "Okay...but just because you said my eyes are beautiful."

Once her eyes fall close, I move to cradle her to me from behind. She sits between my thighs, her naked back is pressed against my chest as she tucks the sheet under her arms, modestly covering her bosom. Resting my chin on her bare shoulder, "Merry Christmas," I whisper.

I place a box, the size of the cup of her palm in her hand. America opens her eyes immediately, staring at the box. She looks at me over her shoulder and is about to protest but again, I don't give her the chance. My hands feel clammy and my heart is pounding in my chest. I'm trying to hide my nervousness as best I can. I'm only hoping she really likes it.

"Go on. Open it."

She looks at me and is about to say something but I wink at her and she rolls her eyes effectively saying, she gives up.

"My God...look! My hands are shaking," she giggles. "What have you done now?"

She opens the black velvet box.

An audible gasp and a hand flies to cover her mouth. She turns her body halfway to me, shock clearly on her face.

"Maxon! Where...where did you find these?" Her eyes are wide with recognition. She turns her attention back to the set of earrings and bracelet, the pieces she had selflessly given away during the Convicting to save a poor man's life.

"I can't take all of the credit. Stavros was the one who tracked them down."

"How? I mean...where did he find them? They weren't among your father's things..." America's words fade. Her eyes drop to the emerald and sapphire pieces in the black velvet box and quickly return to mine inquisitively.

I confirm. "No. They weren't found with my father's things. According to Stavros it seems that that evening right after the Convicting, my father charged one of his attendants to take them back to the royal jewelers. He wanted no remnants of what he viewed as a blatant act of defiance to his rule. So, they were brought down to be...dismantled, I suppose. But it seems that not everyone shared my father's view on things. Big surprise there, huh? Apparently, those pieces became a symbol of something greater, America. A symbol of change and reform. Bortles, the jeweler that was ordered to carry out the task couldn't bring himself to destroy something so significant. He felt it would be an injustice to do so. After all, he said it was the price paid for a man's life and in retrospect...freedom from injustice..."

"You spoke with him?" she asks, running her fingers over the earrings.

"I did." I shift uncomfortably, thinking of how thrilled Bortles was when I walked into his workshop. The respect and hope I saw reflected in his eyes when he looked at me; possibly pinning his dreams of better things ahead on me; that I had the ability to make Illéa better not just for a privileged few but for all peoples. His emotions so raw they made me feel unworthy.

"But...Did he come forward on his own?" She asks tentatively.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy for him to do so. An act of theft against the Royal Crown would keep anyone at bay no matter how good the intentions of such an action were."

"Oh no, Maxon! Certainly this poor man was not punished, was he?"

Although many reforms have been instituted, theft is still a crime. But I am king now and as we had done in the case of Marlee and Carter granting them a pardon, there is much good we have the power to continue to do.

I kiss her temple. "Of course not. More like a reward was in order." I wrap my arms around her. "America...you've never stopped amazing me, darling."

"What do you mean?" Our eyes meet. She turns a shoulder into my chest.

"I knew you were special. From the first moment I saw you in the garden that night. But I never knew how special you were to so many others. That evening, when you gave away what some would've never been able to part with, it was incredible. Your gesture had such an impact on the nation and obviously not just on the subjects living outside the palace. When Stavros narrowed down the list of jewelers on duty the morning that followed the Convicting, Bortles came forward ready to face the consequences, ready to accept his fate. But regardless of that, he said these pieces needed to go back to their rightful owner when the time was right...and because, you, my darling...had given them hope."

"Maxon...I...I don't know...what to say..." Her eyes glisten with tears. "I can't accept these."

Her expression was a mixture of shock and honor. Her eyes fall again to the velvet box in her hand.

"You must." I smile. "Look at me, America." Her lashes are dotted with tears. "Is not about the jewelry, darling, it's about you." I tuck her hair behind an ear. "Look how far we've come already. In large part because of you."

"Because of us."

I smile. "Come. Let's see how this rests." I take the bracelet from the box and put in on her slim wrist.

"It's even more beautiful than I remember." Her voice is a soft whisper.

I tilt her chin up with a finger and see a tear running down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. "No jewel could replace you." And then I kiss her.

She begins to sob more in earnest.

"Yes." Her teary eyes look at me.

"What?" I look back at her, confused.

"Do you remember after the Convicting? Your father asked if I was prepared to marry you." I stiffen at the memory of those months of uncertainty and beauty and anguish. America reaches up and tilts my head towards hers. "My answer is, yes. I figured since I didn't do it right the first time..." she smiles, "Yes, Maxon, I love you and I'd be honored to be your wife."

Before I can say anything, her lips press against mine as her body turns, the hand of her jeweled wrist slipping into my hair. The kiss is deep and searching. I pull her down, over me back on our makeshift bed. I'm shrouded in a mist of sensual kissing and intimate caresses.

America maneuvers her body over mine, the tips of her breasts as they brush over my skin send tingles and shivers to every nerve I possess. She ventures lower kissing my stomach and each thigh and soon I find myself clutching the pillow under my hands, my body welcoming the stream of pleasure her mouth is giving me. I close my eyes as I am swathed in the warmth of her mouth. I feel a breath hitch and my eyes flash open, staring at the canvas roof of our lover's tent. But that sight isn't as interesting as the one between my legs. I lift up on my elbows enjoying her, watching her, my hand reaching for the back of her neck. My stomach tightens with her oral motions - her tongue and lips gliding over my hard dick and I'm unable to contain the sounds of pleasure as they escape my mouth.

My manhood is resting in her open palm as her tongue slides over the underside of my length one last time before she settles it gently down on my pelvis. I am hard and desperate. America doesn't speak her kisses follow the line of my abdomen up between my pecs and she straddles me as my mouth greets her throat and my kisses are as hard as I feel. She gasps, cupping my face in her hands. I fall back unto the pillows and grab her hips. And she knows what to do as she sinks over me, her wetness making entry effortless.

America's mouth is solidly fixed on mine but her hips are in constant motion, rising and falling over mine. She tears her mouth away, her arms fixed on each side of my head. Her sweet, silken walls caress me with each fluid movement as she rocks back and forth. My hands are on the cheeks of her ass each motion radiating through my palms. It's so damn erotic I can't hold back as my own upward thrusts begin to meet with her downward push. We clash over and over, harder and harder. My fingers dig into the softness of her flesh pushing her down harder onto my stiff manhood, hitting the back of her wall. I feel enveloped in blinding passion as we kiss and we touch and our bodies fuse together in rapture. And as we are lifted in a wave of wanton pleasure very soon she cries out in that familiar tone I know so well and I feel it...her orgasm conquers her– her walls tremble as she bathes me in liquid ecstasy. America collapses on top of me just as I hear myself growl, relief coursing from the depths below up through my shaft as I reach my own blinding release. I don't lessen my grip until the last of my release has found its way into her.

We look at each other– breathless. Her hair a beautiful mess, her lips swollen, her cheeks a rosy shade of pink. I bury my face in her neck, her red hair tickling my face. She laughs when I nip at the side of her neck. America looks down on me and kisses me softly, her fingers tracing my jaw.

My eye catches the glint of her bracelet. "I guess gifting you jewelry does pay dividends," I tease.

She smiles. "Merry Christmas, Maxon."

"Merry Christmas, America."


Hope all of you enjoyed!

Readers, don't forget, if you have a suggestion for a Bedtime Story you can either PM me or post your idea on the Reviews message board.

If you are interested in submitting an idea or topic please see the "Guidelines for Special Requests" posted in the A/N section of Chapter 1 of "Bedtimes Stories".

Thank you so much to EVERYONE who left a review or thought for Part II of "Masquerade". I can't express how much I appreciate you and the fuel those reviews give me to keep me going!

Check out the "REVIEWS" section for my replies :)

BEDTIME STORIES WILL RETURN IN 2017!