Page 17 of His Candy Cane (Sweet Treats 1)

He grows serious.

“You’ll be pregnant.”

I nod.

“Yes, and we’re not ready to be parents, Patrick. Heck, we only just said “I love you” to one another tonight. So how can we entertain the thought of a child?”

I expect Patrick to agree wholeheartedly, but he merely shrugs and shoots me a cocky grin.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t sound so bad to have a baby together, does it?”

My heart does about three cartwheels in a row as my stomach drops to my feet.

“What?” I stammer.

He shrugs again, a devilish look on that handsome face. His outline is dark in the night sky, but it’s huge and pulses heat even through the cold air.

“It doesn’t seem so bad to have a baby together,” he repeats in a deceptively casual tone. “I’m thirty to your twenty-five, honey, and I’m ready to be a daddy, if that’s what’s in store for me.”

I can hardly breathe as my heart pitter-patters at a rapid pace.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” he shrugs. “I’d love to have a baby with you, Maisie. You’d be a wonderful mommy.”

The air whooshes out of my lungs.

“But how?” I ask plaintively. “I mean, of course the biology is pretty easy. But we’re just so … I don’t know. Unprepared?”

He grins again while taking my trembling hand in his own.

“Speak for yourself, sweetheart. I’m prepared. If anything, I’d love to see you grow even rounder with my child, and you know what? I’ve always wanted to have a brood of rugrats. What do you say to three or four children? Or even five?”

I’m completely taken aback even as my heart leaps with joy and wonder. After all, I’d love to have a child with this handsome, commanding man. He’s already done wonders for my self-esteem and body-image, and I know he’d be a great father too. I squeeze Patrick’s hand tentatively with my own.

“But are you sure?” I ask in a whisper. “You know, once we have a baby, we can’t go back. We can’t return him to the stork.”

“I’m sure,” he says in a serious tone. “But I understand if you don’t want to have one right this minute, and I understand if you’re afraid that the pulling out method isn’t working too. Why don’t I make you a deal?”

“What is it?” I ask, barely able to breathe. So many things have happened tonight and I can hardly process it all. He’s said “I love you” twice, and now he’s telling me that he wants babies with me! Who would have guessed?

Patrick merely grins, reading my mind.

“Trust me, stranger things have happened, Maisie. You’re a very attractive, eligible young woman, so what man wouldn’t want you? But back to my deal,” he continues. “I don’t love using birth control because condoms feel disgusting, and I know the thought of dousing yourself with chemicals turns you off.”

I nod.

“But what else is there?”

He stares at me in the darkness, that handsome profile arresting and completely still. I can’t read his eyes, but the tension in his frame is palpable.

“We can do things the back way,” he says. “Give me your bottom cherry, sweetheart, and you won’t get pregnant that way.”

“What?” I gasp. “Oh my god! Only bad girls do that!”

He nods, pulling me close so that I’m basically in his lap now. One big hand coasts up beneath my coat to cup a large breast, and that low voice growls directly in my ear.

“Yes, but you’re my bad girl, aren’t you? You’re my bad, bad, bad girl, and Santa’s going to take your ass cherry for Christmas because of your naughty deeds.”

Suddenly, heat washes over me in waves and my bottom ring clenches in anticipation. Yes, I want this, and with a deep kiss, Patrick sweeps me into his strong arms as we begin our exploration together.

11

Patrick

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I promised myself that I’d go easy with Maisie because she’s a sweet, innocent thing that doesn’t deserve to lose her ass cherry on the roof of some random stranger’s house during a cold winter night. Yet, suddenly, I can’t wait any longer. I need in, and I’m going to take her.

Fortunately, I’ve already scoped out the terrain, and I stride a few steps with Maisie’s lovely weight in my arms before clambering into Santa’s sleigh. It’s a huge thing. The homeowners spared no expense, and Santa and his transportation this year are actually larger than life size. The sleigh has the dimensions of a generous life raft, and even with St. Nick sitting on the bench, there’s still plenty of room on the floor of the sleigh for a passionate coupling.

“Oh my god,” whispers Maisie, breaking away from our kiss for a moment. “Are we really going to –?” is her unspoken question.

“Yes, we are,” I growl, lowering her to the ground before stopping to whip off my jacket to place beneath her. “Daddy needs your bottom cherry, baby girl, and he can’t wait anymore. It’s mine.”

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