Page 80 of Damon

What was meant to be a relaxing Christmas Eve has spiraled quickly into yet another argument. This has been a very real debate for the past fortnight, since I told him I planned to go back to work in January. The niggle to get back to my files has been growing week by week, the need to put my fingers to the keyboard and my nose deep in law books. As much as I’ve loved my time as Annie’s caretaker every day, I won’t lose sight of my own goals and my incessant need to find justice for those who were wronged.

When I contacted Harrison last week to arrange my return, we talked at length about how Damon may react to the news. Neither of us has been surprised by his outbursts or attempts to control the situation. But it doesn’t make his constant temper tantrums when I mention returning to the office any less fucking annoying.

“What bloody age are you?” I hiss. “Stop being such a baby. This isn’t your choice, it’s mine. I am going back to work, and I suggest you get on board with it, or you will be sleeping alone this Christmas.”

“Don’t threaten me.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a warning. All actions have consequences. And your penalty will be your dick not getting sucked.” He crosses his arms across his chest as he stands in the center of the kitchen. Taut muscles tense beneath his white cotton t-shirt. His eyes narrow, but he knows he is beaten. “For a man in his late thirties, you really can be an immature pain in the ass,” I mutter.

“And you are the most maddening woman I have ever met. Can you not just let me look out for you? You staying home would make my task a lot easier.”

“I wasn’t put on this planet to make your life easy,” I tell him bluntly. “I’m here to live the life I want alongside the people I love.”

“Loving you is going to fucking kill me,” he says, then grins. I walk over to him, knowing that the argument is over and I’ve won. My fingers snake around his waist as I allow myself to snuggle against his strong form. I place my lips gently onto his breastbone, closing my eyes. He rests his chin on top of my head. “You’re so strong, Spitfire. I’m in awe of you.”

“It’s easy to be brave when I know I have you to lean on.”

***

Christmas Day 2022

Annie screeching wakes us both simultaneously. Damon sits up, throws the duvet off his legs, and climbs out of bed. His naked ass crosses the room, then disappears out of the bedroom door. I plump up my pillows to sit, then pull the cover up over my breasts. When he reappears, Annie is in his arms. She shrieks when she sees me.

At the age of one, she’s becoming her own person. Now that she’s almost walking, her father and I live in a state of constant panic. When she started crawling, it was bad enough, but now she’s impossible to keep in one place. The number of times I’ve found her pulling herself up on furniture when my back is turned is terrifying.

In recent months, she has developed a head of blonde curls that compliment her stunning blue eyes. Her nose is covered in freckles, and she sports the most striking rosy-pink cheeks. When she smiles, pearly white teeth shine back. A single look makes my heart burst with pride; I am so proud of the little person I helped create.

Damon comes to my side and passes her to me. “Good morning,” I say softly, and pop a kiss onto her forehead. “Merry Christmas.”

“Am I getting a Christmas kiss too?” he asks, walking around the bed then climbing back in beside me. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him before pecking my lips. “Merry Christmas, Spitfire.”

Annie sits on my knee as I hold her between us. We kiss again, gentle and loving. Damon’s hand moves to my hair and twists the strands between his fingers then cups my cheek. My eyes, which closed on impact with his lips, reopen, and I find myself looking into his beautiful green ones.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper back. “I love you. I love you both.”

“We love you too. Don’t we Annie? Emma is the best Christmas present we could imagine receiving.” He tickles his daughter’s chin with big fingers, and she giggles happily. “But we have plenty more gifts under the tree to open, don’t we.” He glances from Annie to me. “And once we’ve opened them, maybe I’ll get to open my present.” Dark eyes fix on mine, and my stomach somersaults.

“What did you put on your Christmas list?” I ask. He leans in and places his lips at my ear. His grip tightens on my back as his arm slides further around and cups my breast.

“These tits, your wet pussy, and my cock between those smart-talking lips,” he replies in a whisper. The familiar buzz of arousal begins in my belly. It vibrates outward as he speaks, causing my pussy to clench. “I plan to unwrap my gift later, and once opened, I plan to play with it all fucking night.” His mouth locks onto mine once more, his kiss possessive. “I’m so fucking glad you’re mine, Spitfire. Mine to enjoy. Mine to please. Seeing you come makes me so bloody happy, knowing I made you feel that way. That I can make your body react by giving me all of you.”

“For a grumpy know-it-all, you can be a sweet-talking dirty fucker,” I tell him, and he laughs. “Before you get too excited about unwrapping me, let’s go downstairs and spend the day enjoying Christmas. The three of us.”

“My perfect day.”

I watch him once again rise and move over to the wardrobe. He opens the single door, lifting out the red shopping bag with a huge reindeer plastered across the front. He brings it back to the bed, lays it down, then removes the three sets of pajamas from it. The fine wool-like material is decorated with white and red stripes, each one detailing a festive item. On some rows there are baubles, on others, snowmen or Santas. Damon picks up Annie’s pajamas first and passes them to me. I start to change her out of the onesie she is wearing as Damon dresses in his own nightwear.

“You look cute,” I say with a smirk once he is dressed. The strong, domineering man stands before me like a model from a festive shopping catalog.

“I look like an idiot.”

“No, you look like a father wanting to create special memories for his daughter.” His eyes hold mine for a beat, and an understanding passes between us. A gratefulness that we are both here for Annie and each other. “You are an amazing father. Annie is a very lucky girl. We both are.”

“Well do my lucky girls want to come downstairs so we can celebrate our first Christmas together?” He walks over and takes Annie from my arms, and I begin to wriggle into my own set of matching sleepwear.

Once we’re all dressed, he shuffles us over to the full-length mirror. Standing beside me, he wraps one arm around my waist and holds his daughter with the other. We stare at the reflection of us. At first view, we look like a normal family. This morning, the complexities of how we came to be this unit seem irrelevant because here we are.

Our little makeshift family makes its way downstairs to the living space. At the front, there’s a large bay window which holds the Christmas tree. Last week, Damon had appeared one evening with the eight-foot-tall monster and set it up in the window. I spent the following day rummaging through boxes of ancient decorations then placing each item on a branch. The white lights wrapped around the branches reflect off the gold and red baubles. Underneath, presents are stacked masterfully, giving the setup a picture-perfect look.

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