A Navesink Bank Christmas Read online

  His hand yanked the swatch of fabric covering me to the side, running his tongue up my slick cleft before circling my clit with excruciatingly gentle strokes, making it clear he was just torturing me. He wasn't going to let me come until he was inside me.

  "Reign, please," I begged, fingers sinking into his hair, pulling, trying to drag him back onto his feet.

  "Please, what?" he rumbled against me.

  "Please fuck me," I clarified, making him angle his head up, letting me watch his tongue move out to stroke over me as his fingers moved between us, two shoving deep inside me, fucking me hard and fast, and proving Reign wanted me to be much more specific.

  But for a long moment, his eyes on me as he ate me, as his fingers fucked me, I wasn't able to think clearly enough to remember what it was that I wanted.

  "I need you inside me."

  His tongue moved back in for a moment so he could speak. "I am inside you," he said, fingers turning inside me, tapping hard against my G-spot. "Feel?" he asked, clearly eating up the ragged, pained moan at the sensation.

  Ah, oh, I felt alright.

  But I needed more.

  "I need your cock in me," I demanded, reaching down, sinking my hands into his forearms, dragging him up until he finally, finally moved to stand again, reaching between us to roughly rip my panties out of his way as my hands clumsily worked to free his cock, taking him in my hand for a moment as he grabbed me again, yanking my legs around him.

  "Eyes," he demanded when I tried to bury my head in his neck. "I need your eyes when I fuck you," he added as I lifted my head.

  As soon as my eyes found his, he slammed in hard and deep, making my head knock back into the wall as I let out an almost embarrassing moan at the full sensation he gave me.

  "Fucking love this pussy," he ground out as my heels dug into his lower back, giving me a little leverage to raise my hips slightly, get the friction I so badly needed.

  But I didn't need to keep it up.

  Reign wasn't in a screwing around mood.

  His need was as strong as my own as he yanked up my knees, holding me suspended in the air and pounding into me - hard, fast, unrelenting, taking every inch of me, never letting there be even a mere second for the need to ebb, driving me up fast.

  It felt like I just got him inside me, but my walls were tightening, threatening complete oblivion.

  "Fuck yeah, babe, squeeze my cock," he growled as he - though I didn't see how it was possible - fucked me harder, faster, my body getting tight as it got pushed to the brink.

  His cock slammed deep once more, his breath hissing out as the waves crashed through me at the same time.

  Simultaneous orgasms.

  I wasn't sure there was anything more satisfying than coming at the same time, each with the others name on our lips.

  He guided my legs around his back, his weight leaning into me, pressing me into the wall as he tried to get his breath back.

  And me, well, I clung to him, comfortable enough with what we were, where we were, where we were going to allow myself to show that much vulnerability, that much neediness.

  Because, well, I did need him.

  That sounded weak and against everything I had been raised to think, everything I had made my life into. I had always taken care of myself, stood on my own two feet, wanting men, but never needing one.

  But I needed Reign.

  I needed him like I needed to keep breathing, like I needed food and water and shelter.

  And, what's more, I didn't even care how that sounded.

  He was my world.

  I didn't even want to consider a life without him in it.

  Anyone who didn't understand that simply didn't know how deeply love could go, how it got into your marrow, into your very DNA, until there was no way to separate you from them.

  A while later, Reign's body shifted, his hands sliding up my sides then neck, finally resting to frame my face, tilting it back up.

  "Fuckin' love you, Summer. Know that, right?" he asked, voice more serious than I had heard it in a long while.

  "I love you right back," I told him, words heavy with the depth of feeling.

  "You gonna get back in bed for a bit? You're gonna be dead on your feet all day."

  He wasn't wrong.

  While I was in the groove, I was too distracted to feel tired. Now, after a break - and let's not forget a mind-numbing orgasm - yeah, I was feeling it. The kind of fatigue that would make me only half-alert the rest of the day, phoning in things I really wanted to be amazing.

  "I have so much to do," I thought out loud.

  "I'll clean up the mess. The batter can go in the freezer. You can do another few batches after we go over to the compound later." His chin ducked, light eyes serious. "Babe, you need to get back into bed. Your eyes are all heavy."

  "Come back with me," I said, not really caring about anything other than the fact that falling asleep with him really, truly trumped a clean kitchen. "Just till I fall asleep. I know you're up now."

  He was an early riser.

  The freak.

  By the time I usually got up in the morning, he had already worked out, showered, been to the club, and come back home to bring me coffee or bagels or anything else he passed along the way.

  I would pass out for a few hours and likely wake up to not only a clean kitchen but to find the cookies already baked for me. Because that was just the kind of guy he was. He picked up the slack. Without having to be asked, let alone nagged. It was perhaps one of his best qualities.

  And I really would be a whole lot more useful after a few hours of sleep.

  "Yeah, babe. I'll curl up with you for a few."

  With that, he carried me into the bathroom where he left me to clean up. When I came back out, he was in bed, tapping his chest for me to cuddle up.

  Which I did.

  Joyously.

  And, dare I say it, triumphantly.

  Because all the awful I had been through, all the pain and neglect, the embarrassment, the fear, the desperation... it had all led me right here, right where I was meant to be. In the arms of a man I could never have imagined. On Christmas morning. In a home we shared. Where we both wanted to build a family.

  It was nothing I had ever dreamed of.

  But everything I had always needed.

  That, well, it was the best gift of all.

  Though I really hoped Reign had something special picked out for me too.

  I guess I would see after my nap.

  Cash & Lo

  Cash

  &

  Lo

  --

  "Love and Joy Come to You"

  Lo

  Christmas was a tricky time at Hailstorm.

  I mean, to be fair, Christmas was a tricky time everywhere. It had a tendency to bring out the best - and worst - in people. You couldn't go a day without hearing someone saying they are dreading the holidays because of some ignorant asshat spouting prejudiced crap at the dinner table, or having to deal with parents who always found fault in you, or getting lectured because you aren't married with babies even after telling everyone for a decade that you don't want to get married and have babies. Almost everyone had something about the season that they dreaded.

  But Hailstorm had the unique distinction of being a huge, sprawling family on one hand, but also a group of highly diversely different, but quite damaged people in the other.

  We didn't talk about Christmas at all at Hailstorm except for in a particular room where we would not be overheard.

  Because it was a touchy time for many of our people.

  Clearly, if you ended up at Hailstorm, you didn't have a family to go home to. Or, more often, you had a family that didn't want you. Because you were different. Because you weren't the same man or woman that you had been before you got carted off to tote guns and partook in wars you maybe didn't even believe in. And, sometimes, and this was the most heartbreaking of all, you did have a family. And they did want you. And they would
do anything to have you back. But you were too fucked up in the head to go back, to try to pretend, to put on a brave face, to subject them to your nightmares that made you scream like you were suddenly set on fire, or your sudden and uncontrollable fits of rage, or depression so deep you couldn't get out of bed.

  Hailstorm specialized in special.

  We hosted some of the most brilliant minds in various fields.

  But, as it often went in life, the most brilliant minds were often the most fucked up ones.

  I think it went without saying but if your specialty was bombs or infiltration or close combat warfare, yeah, it went doubly true for you that you were likely the worst kind of damaged.

  So many of our men and women simply chose never to observe holidays.

  That being said, not everyone at Hailstorm wanted to pretend the holidays didn't exist. Some wanted to cling to the good, see some of the joy in life. Others maybe missed the traditions, but were orphans, without anyone to give them the trees and cookies and carols.

  For those of us who did celebrate, we had a large room where we set up a few trees, strung lights, piled presents, played Christmas music, piled Santa-shaped cookies, had a faux fireplace going.

  Many of us would even sneak down at night just to watch the lights twinkle, to listen to the songs we had grown up with, that reminded us of the wonder of childhood, or the joy of family around a feast.

  Cash and I had decided after Thanksgiving, when I got the Christmas bug in the same way that Reign had told us Summer had the year before, that I would keep my tradition at Hailstorm because it was important to my people and me. After that, we would have our Christmas.

  Our first Christmas.

  It seemed kind of surreal to be honest.

  I just never had someone I wanted to spend Christmas with. I'd had men. But usually as a more casual thing. I was pretty sure the last Christmas I had spent with a man had been during my marriage.

  It would be nice to replace those memories.

  It was about damn time.

  And if there was one thing I knew about Cash, it was that he would make it memorable. He was good at that.

  He was good at everything actually. It was mildly infuriating at times. The man was too good. I was pretty sure that his worst qualities were that he brewed his coffee a little strong and wasn't a big chocolate fan.

  Literally, that was the worst I could come up with.

  "Lo," Malcolm called, catching up with me in the hall.

  "What's up?" I asked, carrying my nondescript brown packing box loaded down with fixings for dinner from the kitchen. Which was cooked at one a.m. when everyone who didn't want to celebrate was passed out.

  This was the tradition.

  We cooked, had Christmas dinner together at two a.m. Then we opened presents and went to bed. Everything went back to the status quo after that.

  It wasn't perfect, but it was what we could have. And it was far better than nothing. In fact, over the years, I really began to cherish it.

  There were the diehard Christmas fans like myself and Ashley, and one or two of the other women. Then there were ones who popped in and out when the nostalgia struck. Like L, when he looked up from his work long enough to remember that life was more than that. But there were also people I never expected to see there.

  Like Malc.

  Now, because he helped me run Hailstorm most of the time, he knew what went down. Because he needed to. In case I was out on a job. Or taken out. The show must always go on.

  But in all the years Hailstorm had been around, he had never stepped foot in the direction of the Christmas room.

  He didn't volunteer why. I had no right to ask.

  It was just how it was.

  And that was okay.

  But here he was, catching up to me in the hall, and reaching to take the box out of my hands. My hands actually fought it for a second, too surprised to let go.

  "Malc, this is..."

  "The fixins," he supplied for me, giving me a nod.

  I slowed as I approached the door, making him fall into step with me as well. "You're coming this year?"

  "Think it is about time," he agreed. But that was all he gave me as he reached for the door and pushed it open.

  While he might never admit this, I think I knew exactly why it was about time. It had nothing to do with facing up his own demons, moving away from his past.

  Oh, no.

  It had a lot to do with a certain newcomer to Hailstorm.

  Who was a Christmas nut. I mean, she made Summer look like Scrooge.

  And any fool - not just romantic saps like me - could see it. The second she showed up at our doors, a little broken, a lot angry, leaving her past behind her, Malc had fallen hard.

  It was some straight-up movie shit.

  He actually jerked backward hard the first time he saw her.

  I mean this was Malcolm.

  He was unshakeable.

  But she shook him.

  Don't be ridiculous, Lo. She's too goddamned young for me.

  That was what he had said when I had finally asked him about it after catching him watching her a bit wistfully as she practiced throwing a hatchet with one of the guys in the yard.

  And, well, she was young for him.

  But since when did that ever matter.

  Who didn't love a good May/December romance?

  I was certainly rooting for it.

  I had a feeling it was going to be a long game.

  But that was okay.

  I loved the anticipation.

  And this, well, this was proving that he might pretend he was sitting this one out, but he was actually stepping up to the plate.

  "Yeah," I agreed, stepping inside ahead of him because he insisted on it. I might not have allowed sexism at my place, but I would never snub my nose at Malcolm's old-fashioned manners. "I think it is," I agreed, watching as his eyes scanned the room, seeming not to take in the decor at all, or any of the other people gathered around. His eyes had a mission. And as soon as he saw her standing there at the festive red and gold plaid covered tablecloth, arranging cookies onto trays, her long, almost-black hair fallen forward to hide her face from our view, his gaze stayed there.

  The man didn't even do a typical once-over.

  And she was looking good in her black dress too, since her family tradition had always been to dress up for Christmas dinner whereas some of the others were in Christmas jammies as was theirs.

  His gaze stayed on her head as he closed the door to mute the sounds of the room to the rest of the compound, making her head turn, and a slow, beaming smile spread across her features.

  "Hey Lo, Malcolm," she greeted, blissfully unaware of the way Malc seemed to stop breathing when she said his name.

  She hadn't been around long enough to realize how big it was that he was here. And since no one would ever dare to tell her, she had no idea about the way Malcolm was feeling about her. "Someone made peanut butter blossoms!" she declared as we moved closer, Ashley taking the box from Malcolm since she was in charge of setting the table - a task she took very seriously. "It is taking serious willpower to wait until dessert."

  Malcolm's hand moved out, snagging one of the light brown cookies with a little kiss settled in the center, holding it out to her. "It's Christmas, darlin', live it up."

  She shot him a wicked little smile as she reached for it.

  And I swear that when her fingers brushed his, her cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

  I didn't care what was under the tree.

  This was Christmas present enough for my hopeless romantic ass.

  "Alright, everyone come get your seats!" Ashley declared, a very demanding hostess. "No, Malc, you're over here. We have assigned seating," she added, lying through her freaking teeth. So she could sit Malcolm next to Georgie.

  When my pointed gaze caught Ash's across the table, she gave me a conspiratorial smile before taking her own seat.

  Oh, it was going to be fun to ha
ve someone to talk to about these two needing to get together.

  After Christmas dinner.

  "Sweetheart," Cash's voice drifted to me through my dream. It was a good one too, my dream. We took off after Christmas to a lodge in Aspen where we played out in the snow and had sex in front of a fire. "Gotta wake up, honey," the voice called again as a finger traced down my jaw. "We have to have Christmas... again," he added as my sleep finally started pulling away, letting my eyes blink slowly open to find Cash kneeling down beside my couch where I had passed out into a cookie coma sometime after presents which I think wrapped up sometime around four in the morning.

  "Hey," I mumbled, pushing the hair out of my eyes. "What time is it?"

  "Almost nine," he said, giving me a soft smile. "How much sleep did you get?"

  "Almost five hours," I said, pushing up.

  "So a full night for you," he said with one of those freaking amazing smiles of his that made his dark green eyes light up.

  "Just about," I agreed, giving his hand a squeeze as I looked around.

  There was wrapping paper and boxes and tissue paper everywhere, something everyone had been too tired to deal with. It would likely sit there another full day before one - or a group of us - got tired of it and cleaned it up. Many of the people had gone off to bed. Ashley was curled up in an armchair using a sweater she had gotten as a present as a blanket.

  And right across from me on the only other couch was Malcolm sitting upright, wide awake. With Georgie laying across the couch, passed out on a throw pillow with her legs over his lap. Malc's sweatshirt was resting on her bare legs, likely covering up the way the short hem must have hiked up in her sleep.

  Cash's gaze followed mine, then came back to me with dancing eyes. "Sh," I demanded, shaking my head as he helped me off the couch. "Merry Christmas," I whispered to Malc as Cash led me toward the door. He gave me a nod in response, but said nothing.

  I had a feeling he was currently enjoying his Christmas present, as sweet and chaste as it was.

  "That poor fuck," Cash declared once we were in the hallway, his arm draping over my shoulders, making them slump down slightly as I leaned into his chest.