Playlist
Last Christmas by Wham!
The Christmas Can-Can by Straight No Chaser
All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey
A Mad Russian’s Christmas by Trans-Siberian Orchestra
Little Drummer Boy by Jars of Clay
A Hallelujah Christmas by Cloverton
White Winter Hymnal by Pentatonix
Santa Baby by Eartha Kitt
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Michael Bublé
Chapter One
It’s just a dream. Please let this just be a dream.
My sleep-addled brain attempts to put together the pieces of my reality and wishful thinking as the annoying-as-fuck pop melody filters down the hall. I swear I’ve heard these synthesized chords every morning for the past week, and each time my soul dies just a little more.
This dream feels more like a never-ending nightmare to be honest.
I know damn well Tyler is just playing it to torture me at this point. Make one little comment about how annoying Wham! is and he’s turned this into some sort of horrific conditioning program.
Look, I love Tyler and the Christmas holiday, but at the rate he’s going, I’m not sure how much longer love will be enough.
I groan and rub the last of the sleep from my eyes before sitting up in bed. Leaning back against the headboard, I mentally debate if I should even bother getting up or if I should just play turtle until he gives up. My decision is made for me as the bedroom door pushes open and Tyler comes dancing in the room wearing a pair of pajama pants with the Grinch all over them and a shirt that depicts a checklist Naughty, Nice, An Attempt Was Made with a bright red check mark on the latter.
Apparently, Tyler swaps out his normal shirts for a more…holiday themed approach in December. I’ve seen a different one almost every day since Thanksgiving. I wasn’t even aware you could make this many puns out of Christmas to put on a shirt.
Consider me educated.
His sinister smile is at complete odds with the upbeat lyrics he’s singing along to as he makes his way closer to me.
“Last Christmas I gave you my heart…but the very next day you gave it away…”
Agony.
I. Am. In. Agony.
I cringe and turn to attempt to bury my head and body under the pillows. Tyler jumps on the bed and straddles my hips before I can get very far. He rips the pillow off my head and tosses it to the other side of our mattress. Glaring up at my fiancé as he continues singing to me, I try to buck him off, but he just pushes me down using his body weight to keep me in place. Leaning over and holding me captive as the song—blessedly—comes to an end, he sings the last line against my lips.
“I’ll give it to someone speciallll….” The last line trailing off before he smiles at me; wide, bright, and a little threatening.
“Baby, I’m so sorry that I made a negative comment about one of your favorite songs. But for the love of all that is holy, can we stop this?” Begging and pleading are all I have left in me.
“No can do my love,” he says softly before leaning down to capture my lips in a sweet kiss.
All thoughts of unreasonably annoying holiday songs and torment fall away as his mouth moves against mine. Reaching my hands up, I cup his face and he opens for me, allowing me to lick inside and taste the bitter coffee and the unique flavor of Tyler. I drink him in, filling my soul—and my arms—with my love for him.
Tyler pulls back again, breathing a bit rougher, and drops his forehead against mine. “Good morning, my love.”
“Good morning.” Running my hand alongside his face, I push his hair back and peer into his pine colored eyes. “I’d much rather you wake me up like this than with that song.”
The edge of his eyes crinkle with mirth before he tips his head back with bright laughter, his entire body shaking above mine. Taking full advantage of his distraction, I quickly switch our positions, throwing him down against the mattress and using my hips to hold him in place. His laughter cuts off in surprise for only a second before I curl my fingers into his sides and tickle him.
“You little shit. I knew you were doing it on purpose,” I growl as I take my revenge.
“Damnit…Chance…okay…uncle…I call uncle!” he shouts out, the words broken up between pants of laughter.
I halt the movement of my hands but refuse to budge my body, enjoying the feel of him pinned beneath me. Over the past year, I’ve discovered and exploited how much Tyler loves when I control him in bed. That fact is further proven as I watch his breathing escalate and his pupils dilate, the color of his irises eclipsing with desire.
Collapsing my weight against him, I take him in a deep kiss, our tongues brushing against one another before I pull back and bite his bottom lip gently. Tyler moans and arches up against me, forcing me to release his lip as his erection makes contact with my exposed one.
Sleeping naked has its advantages around here.
I stare down at him, my gaze running over his flushed cheeks, the color extending down his throat and disappearing under his shirt. His chest rising and falling in a harsh cadence, battling against my weight.
It doesn’t matter that he’s tortured me for a week straight or that his version of a wake-up call could qualify as abuse. When he looks at me like this, needy and desperate, I can’t help but give him all of me, fulfill his every want and desire.
I slide my fingers under the hem of his shirt, lifting it slowly, and savoring his pale skin as each inch is revealed. Tyler raises slightly to aid me as I continue lifting the fabric over his head and then falls back against the pillows while I toss the shirt behind me. I run my index finger from the hollow of his throat, down his sternum, to his belly button. His skin pebbles with goosebumps below my touch, and I am fascinated that even after all this time, a simple brush of my skin against his can cause such a dynamic reaction.
One becomes three as the tips of my fingers dance along the edge of his bottoms. I push back slightly before hooking my fingers under the elastic band and pulling them down slowly, stopping the movement as the pants and his briefs circle around his knees, effectively trapping him in this position. Crawling back up to him, I tease a sporadic pattern across his exposed skin along the way.
A kiss to his right thigh.
A nibble to his left hip bone.
A swipe of my tongue under his belly button.
Each connection unleashes a different sound from above me, a series of panted words, whimpers, and moans. By the time I reach his face again, he’s writhing beneath me, his eyes are closed tight and he’s mouthing words I can’t hear, no doubt more begging. He’s never been a patient one, but even under the denial, I know he enjoys the prolonged stimulation just as much as I do.
“Tyler…” I whisper against his ear. “Open your eyes.”
His lashes flutter open, gifting me with a glimpse of his heart. I praise him by rolling my hips, my cock sliding alongside his and giving just enough friction to tempt him. I can tell I’m near the end of his patience, his muscles below me are taut, his body rigid as he forces himself to endure the slow caresses between us.
Fortunately for him, I’ve exceeded my own stamina for the long game this morning.
I want him.
I want in him.
I lean over his chest, extending my arm to reach for the lube on the bedside table, not even bothering to consider a condom. We don’t use those anymore and I need to feel him wrapped around me.