Author's Notes:

With a family of their own on the way, Maxon and America share some heartfelt thoughts as they find comfort in their love for each other.

This Bedtime Story was a suggestion by Guest reader who posted: "America feels really sad at the end of the year because of the memory of his father, and Maxon for both his parents. They don't want to bother one another with these sad thoughts but in the end they find out they are in the same mood and find comfort in each other's arms. Sad but sweet?"

Thank you for the suggestion, Guest reader, whoever you are! Here is your "Bedtime Stories" chapter!

WARNING!

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

I hope you enjoy!

~Sweetwaterspice

Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories

"In the Arms of My Love"

Oh the comfort, the inexpressible feeling
of feeling safe with a person,
Having neither to weigh thoughts
nor measure words,
but pouring them all right out
just as they are.

~ Dinah Maria Mulock

The Palace

~ America

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring… not even a mouse...

The first lines of the old poem play in my head on repeat and I find the words amusing.

Not a creature was stirring... Except for me.

It's late but sleep is fleeting. I look over at Maxon, fast asleep and smile. I lean over, placing a ghost of a kiss on his cheek then carefully slide out of bed, hoping not to stir him awake. Maxon's been extra attentive since I shared the news that he was going to be a father. I'm five months along but you'd think by the way he's been acting around me, doting on me and making sure that I'm well attended to that I was about to give birth any day now. I love him for it but... he needs to chill a bit.

I slip on my robe over my night clothes, stuffing my feet in to my warm, fuzzy slippers. Quietly, I open the door, taking one more peek over my shoulder at Maxon. Still fast asleep. I exit our bedroom making my way down the stilled hallway and down to the main floor.

At this late hour the palace is tranquil. I like the semblance of solitude it gives me at the moment.

My slippers scrape along the marbled floor, as I pass the night watch who nod in greeting but don't make any inquiry. I smile and keep moving along, to my destination— The Great Room. The doors are wide open as I cross into the room, decorated with festive lights, wreaths and holly. I'd requested the doors remain that way for the holiday season. It would've been a shame not to enjoy every minute of the festive decorations.

I'm standing now in front of our Christmas tree. It's about the most beautiful tree I've ever seen. I look up. It's so tall and perfectly symmetrical. Dressed in colorful, glass ornaments and tinsel, it twinkles beneath the hundreds of lights threaded through it. It had been brought to the palace from up North where evergreens flourish. It was chosen from hundreds of others to be cut down and hauled here for this honored post. And I wonder if it had the power to feel, would it feel honored or would it feel regret that its life had now been cut short... for a season?

I scold myself for the somber thought. I will my mind to think happier thoughts focusing my attention on the dozens of presents that lay neatly stacked and propped all around the skirt of the tree, wrapped in big bows and in a wide assortment of holiday themed gift wrap, waiting for anxious fingers to rip them apart.

I look up at the tree and close my eyes. The scent of pine wafts, so lovely up my nostrils. I feel a mixture of happiness and sadness. For it. For me.

When I open my eyes the ornament Maxon and I placed on one of its branches earlier tonight makes me smile. This is my second Christmas here at the palace since marrying Maxon. We commemorated it once again with our own special handmade ornament. Traditionally, Maxon's parents had commissioned a special ornament for every Christmas celebration. For our first Christmas, Maxon and I decided to go a bit untraditional and make our own. Maxon had taken the picture of us right after our engagement. I painted the small, frame made from wooden popsicle sticks and we signed our names with the title "Forever". It was a simple thing, really, but in its simplicity, it spoke volumes.

This year we followed our own made-up tradition, adding a second frame. This one, another small frame with a picture of us together at his birthday party; right after I told him I was pregnant. We embellished the frame with miniature tokens— each representing a piece of our story. A letter, a camera, a mask, an umbrella, a pair of jeans, an engagement ring, interlocking hearts and the word, "Love."

Looking at those two frames, my heart swells with so much love for my amazing husband and yet there's a piece of my heart that remains... cracked.

My lips quiver, my eyes well with tears as memories flood my mind and a tightness squeezes within my chest.

"You should be here, dad." The words are a whisper. With Christmas only a few days away, I feel his loss so acutely now. And I can't believe the anniversary of my father's death is upon me once again. I've tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about what another Christmas was going to be like without my dad. I contain the sob ready to burst from my lips. I breathe deeply and bite it back.

My hands fall to my stomach. It's grown. Still not huge but you can certainly tell there's something baking in this oven.

"I'm going to be a mom, dad. That means you're going to have another grandchild. Soon. In about four more months." A smile emerges through my melancholy.

But it doesn't last. All of a sudden the tears begin and I can't stop myself. I'm so emotional and I don't know if it's my hormones or this holiday season but I feel this big hole in my heart.

Losing my father was such a shock to our family. For mom, who'd lost her soulmate and best friend. Thinking of her I can't fully imagine what she's been through. How's she's been able to fill this void? I don't know. She hides her feelings pretty well with her smile and humor. But, there are days where I can see the loss of him reflected in her eyes; moments when she's off in her own thoughts and I'm certain it's dad she's thinking of right then.

For me, because my dad had been my tower. The one I leaned on, drawing strength from him when I felt vulnerable and lost. He who always had confidence in me; the one who believed I could do anything in the world... even be a queen if that's what I wanted. The one person I could open up to about my fears.

And he's not here.

He had so many years left to live— his life cut short by a congenital heart condition. So many years, I lament, we would never get to have together. Some days I still can't believe he's gone. I expect him to come walking through the palace doors, trailing behind mom, her name of his lips as they pay us a visit. I replay those last days we spent together here, relish those last precious hours I had with him even though at the time I didn't foresee them being our last.

That Christmas I was back in Carolina, bidding him farewell, standing before his freshly covered grave; my future uncertain.

It was the worst Christmas of my life.

So many things felt chaotic and unsettled then. So much drama surrounding me. My feelings for Aspen, my confusion about Maxon, my place as an Elite, King Clarkson's hatred for me on top of my own insecurities. And having lost dad at that critical juncture of my life, I felt like I was this tiny boat fighting the waves in a huge, tumultuous sea called my life.

Now here I stand. The Queen of Illéa. I'm carrying in my womb, Maxon's child. A child conceived in love. Our love. Our future.

I realize that life goes on and I'll be welcoming a new life into my world. A person I've yet to meet but already, unconditionally love.

And perhaps the thought that life has moved on without dad has me feeling gloomy in the midst of holiday cheer.

I feel the stab of regret— that my son or daughter won't know the wonderful man my father was. My child will never get to sit on grandpa's lap and hear him read them fairy tales or tell them made-up fantastical stories. They won't know the boom of his laughter; the one I recall so clearly in my head. Or see the wisdom behind his perceptive eyes.

Hands clutch at my chest and now I'm weeping. "I miss you, dad. I miss you every day. I know if you were here, you would tell me not to be scared. You'd tell me, I'd do a great job being a mom. And you'd frown at me and tell me to stop scolding you for spoiling your grandchild... even though you've had plenty of practice already with Astra. But… the truth is... I am scared, dad.

"We all miss you so much. Especially mom. She's even kept your favorite chair… the beat up one you always sat in. I think she feels like keeping it around her is like having you right next to her. I think it's nice." I smile at my outspoken thoughts. My dad's not here but he's alive in my heart and my memories and so I talk although I know he won't hear me. And the feeling is cathartic.

"Gerad is really good at soccer too. Maxon's one of the coaches on his team and Gerad adores him. They made it to the finals this year but lost the championship game. But, Maxon says they're going to take it all next year. I don't doubt it. Kenna and James are well. Astra is growing up so fast! And then there's Kota." I roll my eyes in grandiose fashion. "You'd be proud of him, actually. Not that you were never proud of him, but he's making a name for himself. At least now that his sister is a One, he's taking advantage of every door of opportunity before him. He has a gallery of his own..." I pause a moment, add, "And I know he misses you too, dad.

Oh! And May!" I chuckle. "She's a media sensation, you know. The media follows her every move. I'm not sure she understands the impact of it all just yet. But, I'd say she's the most photographed out of the lot of us."

I take a seat on the floor curling my legs beneath me. Oddly, I don't want to leave this spot, feeling somehow connected to my dad.

I'm not quite certain how much time passes when I hear Maxon say, "Mind if I join you?"

"Maxon!" I gasp, startled, looking behind me. "I didn't hear you." I take him in. He's dressed in a tight black undershirt and black pajama bottoms. His feet are bare. His hair is tussled and it's a crime that he can looks so damn sexy just rolling out of bed.

Crouching down, he takes a seat next to me and immediately wraps an arm around my shoulder. "I know," he smiles and kisses the side of my head.

"What're you doing here? Couldn't you sleep either?" I ask.

"I was sleeping fine until I turned to cuddle with my wife only to find I was all by myself," he says. "What's going on? Feeling okay?"

At the look in his penetrating, inquisitive eyes, I see his reaction morph. "Have you been crying?" His concern is immediate as his thumb brushes along the hill of my cheek.

I let out a slow breath and turn my attention back to the tree. "I was. I was thinking about my dad."

Maxon's tone is full of empathy when he says, "Come here," and pulls me to sit between his legs.

There's no need to explain. No further words to be spoken. Because Maxon knows exactly what I'm feeling.

I lean back against the hard wall of his chest. The warmth of his body soothes me and I feel protected in the circle of his strong arms which he's gently wrapped around me. He presses his lips against my temple, kissing me adoringly.

"I miss him so much, Maxon."

"I know you do, sweetheart. Your father was a good man. I wish I would've gotten to know him better. I got his best girl."

His words make me smile a little. "You're such a flirt," I tease nudging him with my shoulder. "You know, you made quite the impression on my dad. He liked you. Even when I was undecided."

"I promised him I'd take good care of you. He gave me his blessing."

"Father knows best?"

"Shalom did know. He knew you'd be my best choice."

"Oh, you are a shameless flirt." I tilt my chin up, kiss him softly on his lips and tickle his nose with mine.

When I settle back into his arms, I ask, "And... how are you feeling?" It hasn't been lost on me that shortly after I had lost dad, Maxon had lost both of his parents on the same day.

Maxon sighs. He rests his chin atop of my head. "I've been thinking… about my parents too. About our last Christmas together."

I turn my head, nuzzling into his neck, breathing him in. Running a hand down his forearm, I say, "I know you miss them."

"I do."

"How often do you think about them?" I ask him, shifting to rest my head on his chest. I listen to the sound of his heartbeat and close my eyes. The thump, thump of his heart soothes me further.

"Every day," he admits. The words are a dull rumble against my ear and I snuggle deeper into him wanting to hear him speak some more.

"Me too," I confess, thinking about dad.

"I remember mom at Christmas time and how she'd just beam. She'd have this huge smile on her face knowing she could make others happy. Mom made sure every staff member received a gift. She'd always make dad make an appearance every year at the staff holiday party although he felt it wasn't quite appropriate. But he knew better than to refuse her. She felt it was important to make the staff feel recognized and I tell you, America, the way they looked at mom whenever she entered the room made me feel proud. My mom was beloved and I could see it written on each of their faces."

Opening my eyes memories of Queen Amberly come flooding back. I see exactly what Maxon remembers because I remember her to be so— caring, giving, gentle but ever so the regal queen she was. "Your mom was a very lovely woman. I didn't know her for very long but in my eyes... she was amazing."

"She was inspiring. I still can't believe how selfless she was even to the end... Jumping in front of a bullet to save my father." He shakes his head in disbelief. "If she hadn't she'd still be here."

"Your mom loved your father very much. And she would do the same thing again."

"I know she would."

We both fall silent for a moment, steeped deep in thought when Maxon finally speaks, saying, "I wonder what they would think about us having a baby?"

"Your mom would be ecstatic," I manage to chuckle as the biggest smile I've had in days parts my lips. "She'd already be decorating the nursery along with my mom."

Maxon laughs. It's a rich, soulful laugh. "For sure. Those two would be a force to be reckoned with. They'd be no stopping them."

"And I think your dad would've been just as happy."

"You think?"

"In his own way, I think. I have no doubt your father would've taken the mantle of grandfather with his own brand of pride and joy. And he would've melted like butter the moment he'd held this baby in his arms for the first time. Not even his cold heart could've resisted that."

"Are we speaking about the same man?" Maxon remarks, skepticism laden in the words.

"Babies have that much power."

"Huh... hard to imagine," he confesses.

"You should've seen my dad when Astra was born. That tiny bundle had him wrapped around her tiny little fingers in no seconds flat!"

"I can't picture my father showing any sort of affection. He was such a rigid man. I can't comprehend how mom fell in love with him, really. And as far as our relationship went…" Maxon trails off. I know his thoughts have taken him to a dark place and I gently caress his bare forearm, letting him know I'm here for him. His chest expands as if he's remembering to breathe again. "It wasn't easy with my father as you know. I'm still struggling to forgive him for a lot of things. I don't know if I ever will or if I even can to be honest but… I still loved him. Despite everything he did."

I turn in his arms, frame his face with my palms. I look at the man I married. This gentle, caring soul, so much like the woman who birthed him and kiss him softly. "It's because you're a good man. And you have a good heart. And despite your childhood, with everything you had to endure, Maxon, you'll be a great father to our child." I take his hand and place it on my stomach.

He smiles. Pressing his forehead to mine he says, "Thank you, for believing in me." He caresses my belly with his big hand. "I can't believe there's really a little person growing in there." I see his smile widen at his spread hand. "And she'll be perfect; just like her mother."

I arch a brow. "A girl? Are you predicting we'll have a daughter and not a son?" I tease, my smile growing.

"Uhhh… I don't know. I guess I have a feeling," he adds with a smile matching my own.

Being here with Maxon, knowing we share so many things together— a past, a present and a future, fills a piece of the crack in my heart. I hope I do the same for him. Our parents are lost to us but we're building a future on what they left behind and that thought makes me happy. Turning back around to watch the twinkling lights of the tree, I add, "I'm happy to be here with you, Maxon."

"You make me happy, America," Maxon whispers in my ear then kisses that spot behind my ear. "And every moment I get to hold you like this," he kisses me there again and shivers trickle along my spine, "I feel nothing but joy and happiness."

My body responds, breaking out in goose flesh. I sigh involuntarily when his lips meet the pulse point along the side of my neck and I suck in a breath when he bites my earlobe, pulling it gently between his teeth.

"I have an idea," Maxon whispers.

"Hmmm?" I'm enjoying this distraction and don't want Maxon to quit distracting me.

"Want to make love?"

Woah! Speaking about the mother of distractions! My entire body goes up in flames.

"Here? Under the Christmas tree? My, how scandalous." I try to deflect what his kisses and words are doing to me.

"As adventurous as I may be, my darling, I'd rather unwrap these fine gifts of yours," he speaks saucily, tugging the sash of my robe, "where we might not cause a scandal of our own. Privately. Where only my and only my eyes can enjoy them."

"Only your eyes?"

"My eyes are only the aperitif, sweetheart. My other parts are the feast."

"Well, when you put it that way... I am a bit famished…"

He grins like the devil, "That makes two of us."

Once we're back in our bedroom, Maxon undresses me. My robe and night clothes lay in a pool of soft fabric at my bare feet. I'm naked, my breasts fuller than they've ever been as Maxon's head dips and he takes a ripe nipple between his lips. I'm heat and fire, feeling his mouth suck, his teeth rake over my tender point. His big hands scoop both of my breasts bringing them to feast as he promised. Both of my hands dive into his hair, the softness of his blond locks slipping through my fingers as my own head dips back feeling the flush of desire and want begin to wreck me.

His warm hands glide down, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts, to my rib cage. Further along my body they travel, to my expanding waist line, around my fuller hips until they secure both hills of my ass. Maxon moans and it lights me up even more. I feel his fingers clench into my bottom and with the strength of his arms he hoists me up like a feather although I know I'm carrying extra weight but I feel lovely. Wrapping my legs around his waist we kiss like lovers do.

I feel my connection to Maxon not only in a mere physical way. It's deeper than sex. It permeates every part of us, who we are— as if our souls have weaved together and are now inseparable. It's intimacy the likes I've never had with any other. Because in each other we've built an amazing love that's true and beautiful in every respect. As we've suffered loss and the pain that follows— tears and hearts broken, we've always found that place of comfort in each other.

I can't imagine having this… this... with anyone else but Maxon. In the arms of my love my heart mends. Maxon's love has already done so in so many ways. And in moments like this, where it's only the two of us and we are nothing but who we are and what we are for each other, our love is the mortar that binds our wounds and heals our souls.

Maxon lays me on the mattress and stands at the edge. Leaning over, I feel the mattress dip as he props a hand by my head. His brown eyes rake over me making me blush. I surprise myself at my reaction to his appraisal since he's seen me naked every day for the past two years. "So damn lovely," he says in a tone that sounds like he's in awe. His free hand fans over my heated skin, caressing my body. His gaze is warm and tender; full of pure love. I feel a knot in my throat because I want him to look at me that way for the rest of our days.

His mouth meets mine and he tells me he loves me, the words spoken against my lips. My heart melts and flips in on itself. And then I gasp; then a whoosh of air from my mouth. My back arches high off the mattress because he's touching me there and his fingers are inside of me. I grip the sheets between my fingers, my mind tossed in a whirlpool of need and craving so unexpectedly fierce that my hips rise into his touch.

He touches me, filling me as he maneuvers those magical fingers. And he isn't shy about it. He strokes me, brown eyes watching my features contort at what his touch does to me. He's hungry for my reaction— to see pleasure written on my face. That knowledge sparks my insides and as bite my lips and voice my delight, I catch the glint of male satisfaction reflected in his eyes. And yes, I fall in love with him all over again.

Maxon withdraws all too soon and I watch with rapt attention as he brings his fingers to his mouth sucking-off my arousal. My inner walls quake and damn the wicked look in his eyes as he does it. It makes me orgasm. I can't hide the effect which makes him grin a devilish, beautified grin.

My body is absolutely humming like a tuning fork. I can feel the eagerness shining bright through my eyes and Maxon sees it too. He lowers his head and runs his wet tongue between my breasts up to the hollow of my throat. I hear myself moan as if he's torturing me and curl my fingers around the sheets that much tighter.

He bites softly along the line of my jaw, kneading a breast as he does this. Pinching my nipple. I'm falling to pieces in his hands and I call his name.

"I need you, Maxon…" I groan.

"I know…" he simply whispers against my ear. And once again my body ignites. "I know you do, love."

He kisses me with what feels like reverence and then presses his lips down along my body, pausing at my baby bump where he kisses it twice.

Proceeding on the southern route, his lips torturously brush the top of my thighs and kneeling between my legs, spreads them apart.

I utter a curse when his tongue grazes along my moist opening, sending ripples of fire to my core. Again, he's not shy as he cups me with a full mouth, working his tongue about every part of me. Inside and out, When he clamps his lips over my sensitive peak I can't contain my glee and excitement. I clutch his hair, gasping and demanding more. Maxon, of course obliges until I can't take it a second longer.

He's so in-tuned to my queues that he doesn't hesitate. He stands and rips his black tee over his head. I'm on my knees, my hands already running over his arms, his chest and abs like a sculptor feeling the definition of smooth hard muscle and strength. I place a hand on the back of his head, kissing him with fervor. My other hand meanwhile appraises how excited and hard he is. He groans against my mouth and I want to hear him do it again. Hooking my thumbs into the waist of his bottoms I push down, releasing him to me. He springs forth, all male and proud.

I take a hold of him. The silken feel of him around my hand makes my mouth water. He groans at my exploration, my fingers wrapped tight around his girth, the way he likes it running his length to dip down to the two heavy orbs dangling between his legs.

"Ready to feast?" he asks with that glint of mischief and chills cover every inch of my skin. I nod a bit too enthusiastically and yet I'm unashamed at how eager I am.

"Good," he says against my mouth and kisses me with pure command.

I trail kisses down his body and watch his abs flinch as I pepper kisses over the carpet of his pelvis. My lips brush against it, taking in his masculine scent. I lower myself to my elbows, propping myself at the perfect height. His erection is beautiful. I wet my lips, swallowing a gulp of excitement. Maxon's eyes are on me as he holds my hair up and I look up at him and wiggle my ass. He smirks and smacks it. The sensation electrifies me and makes me feel naughtier.

So I take him. All the way. His grip on my hair tightens sending delicious shivers along my back that spreads into heat all through me to the tent of my clit. Maxon moves his hips, feeding me more and more of himself. He hisses and curses and that makes me feel powerful. So powerful. I come up for air for just a second before I'm at it again. More vigorous. More ravenous. I'm not sure exactly what's come over me. I suck and suck and suck. Harder. Faster. Until he stops me.

He tilts my head up. "I can't wait another minute," he murmurs against my mouth.

My heart thunders and all I can think of is how much I want him as well.

Maxon guides us further onto the bed settling between my legs. My eyes and hands can't resist roaming his beautiful, perfect physique. He lowers on his elbows as I pull him to me and my eyes flash in amazement, my mouth opens wide when he penetrates me. I release my breath as my body molds around his. He grunts in pleasure as he burrows deeper and I love to hear him express that. It never gets old. Fingers dig into his shoulders when he begins moving his hips, filling me to the hilt. I open wider welcoming him further, deeper, encouraging him to move as he wills. I know he understands I'm not fragile in my state but I don't want him to hold back and I tell him so. His response is immediate as he thrusts in harder.

I hiss in delight, wrapping my arms around his strong shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he works his body.

We lose ourselves in each other; in our bodies as we make love; as Maxon makes love to me. And it's lustful and erotic. He focuses on my pleasure giving me what he knows I want and need. I thrill in letting him command our bed. I find his commands exhilarating but I also want to bring him satisfaction. I'm a giving lover and nothing makes me feel more fulfilled than to know I've made him see stars too.

So, as I ride him giving and taking also everything I wish we understand that this is a partnership in every way possible. We are lovers. We are one. We are soulmates.

I grab on to the headboard, Maxon's hands anchored like vices on my hips driving me down over him as he takes his pleasure. I cry out in my bliss and listen to Maxon grunt and curse up a storm, his hips meeting mine, clashing and hurtling us towards oblivion.

And then I fall apart. Head thrown back my body convulses over his as I writhe against him, riding the wave of my orgasm until I completely crash. Maxon cradles me to his hot body holding me tight, an arm laced around my back the other squeezing my ass. His cock stroke my walls in a steady rhythm before he stiffens, his hips stilled in an upwards thrust. His deep voice booms in rapture and he's still squeezing my ass now with both hands, releasing himself deep inside of me.

We lay like that, me on top of Maxon, breathless and coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

I raise up, my red hair spilling around his face. "I love you."

"I love you more," he smiles, running his thumb over my lips.

"Thank you... for being there for me."

"And you for me darling."

"For always," I tell him.

"Forever, my love."

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