Page 12 of Her Mountain Man's Christmas Lie
“Yes. Oh, my god yes. Séamus, that feels so good. Oh more, harder.”
I smile inwardly. My girl’s a talker. I wonder if she’s a screamer, too.
Still lapping and sucking her nub, I shift and slowly start to work one finger in her channel. As she gets closer to release, I work in a second, her juices coat my fingers easing the way.
“Séa— Séamus?”
“Come, now,” I say, around her nub. Clutching the sides of my head, she explodes.
Moments later her eyes flutter open. “Now, Séamus, please now. I want to see you. I want to touch you. I need to feel you inside me. I need to know I’m yours.”
Kneeling between her spread legs, she reaches out, wrapping one slender hand around my girth. “You’re warm and your skinis soft. Books always make it sound like a cock is hard like a pipe. That’s a little scary. You’re firm, more like a cucumber. Not so scary after all.”
“Not sure how I feel about the analogy, love. But I’m glad you aren’t scared. We’ll take our time.”
I suckle her nipples again and gently pet her pussy, building the need to go with her curiosity.
“I’m ready, Séamus.”
As slowly as I can bear, I push into her channel, pausing as I go to let her get used to the fullness. Once seated, I lean my forehead against hers. “Fuck, you feel like heaven. The way you squeeze me, fit me. Like you were made for me.”
“We were made for each other. Make me come again.”
Carefully, I shift my hips. Soon she’s urging me on, clasping my buttocks, begging for more, then harder. “There, right there. Don’t stop, oh Séamus, don’t stop. Ohhh..”
Her body squeezes me, and I can’t hold back. Pounding into her, I explode a moment later and she follows.
After I clean her up, she snuggles onto my chest and I hold her, so thankful she didn’t give up on me.
“So, when you said you didn’t want me here?” She raises a knowing eyebrow.
“I lied. I wanted, have wanted, you more than air for years. I’m not good enough or smart enough for you. But you’re mine now and I’m never letting you go. And every day for the rest of your life you will know how loved and cherished you are. Every fucking day.”
CHAPTER 8
Cady
After we eat the casserole I’d put in the oven earlier, we go to the attic to get Martha’s tabletop mini tree and all the angels Shea, Chris and I gave her over the years.
Moving her calla lily to where she always shifted it, I open the box and set up the mini tree with the tiny lights. The simple purity of what she always did warms my heart.
Séamus carefully lines up her angels in the windowsills on each side of the tree. He places them in the same order she always did.
Pulling my hastily created gift from my backpack, I hand it to him. “This is really for both of us.”
Pulling off the tissue, he stares down at the simple picture frame made of twigs and the photocopy picture of the last Christmas Martha, Chris, Séamus, and I were together in this very room.
He looks up at me, tears in his eyes.
“Martha left us her angels. I want us to start our own family tradition. This is the first of many.”
He places the picture in the center of the fireplace mantel. “Every year a new one just like this.”
I nod. I’m so thankful she left the house to Shea. I know what she meant to him and I’ve got a pretty good idea what he meant to her.
Chris and I loved joining them here as we slowly pulled away from mom when her fake displays of caring got more and more extravagant each year. After they went away to the military, I came on my own as often as I could. And always on Christmas.
At the bottom of the box of angels there’s a white envelope I’ve never seen before. It’s addressed to Séamus, Chris, and I. “Shea, look at this.”
