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“Baby,” he grunts as my muscles tighten around him.
I slide my hands down his sides to the curves of his ass and hold on.
He starts making those husky, guttural noises that let me know he is close to the edge as well.
I’m so close myself and desperate for release when he slips one hand between us, touching me in just the right spot. That does it. My body begins to convulse as I hoarsely scream his name.
He follows me to the edge as his pleasure explodes inside me as my own climax takes him over.
We lie here, tangled together as the warmth of the fire dries our sweat-slick bodies.
“Want to take a shower with me and tackle surface number two?” I ask.
He grins, and that damn dimple gives me my answer.
Hilton
Sara-Beth and I sit by the twinkling Christmas tree as our six sons and their families gather in the cozy ballroom at Langford’s resort.
She and the girls went all out in order to bring the feeling of home to Misty Mountain this year.
Graham and Taeli, Corbin and Maxi, Langford and Isley, Weston and Anna, Morris and Zoey, and even the honeymooners showed up for Christmas breakfast on this special morning.
Our hearts swell with joy as we see our grandchildren—Tucker, Caleb, and Kaela—eagerly tearing open the presents Santa left under the large tree.
The room is filled with laughter and the warmth of family love. This is what Christmas is all about.
Sara-Beth sits on the floor to help Anna with one of Kaela’s boxes, and Weston takes the seat beside me.
“A lot has changed since last Christmas, Pop.”
I nod my head, knowing that a lot changes every year.
“I’ve seen many Christmases come and go, son, and believe me, there are days I feel every single year of life in my bones. But in my mind, I’m still a boy. One who gets a thrill every time your momma smiles at me. It happens so fast. Too fast. One day, you’re riding around on your lawn mower with your son in your lap, helping you steer, and the next day, that same son has his own boy riding the mower with him.”
I bring my eyes to him. “Soak up every moment in between.”
He nods. “I will, Pop.”
Kaela lets out a frustrated wail when the girls are unable to free the doll from its packaging.
“I think that’s my cue,” Weston says as he pulls a pocketknife from his jeans and hops to the rescue.
Corbin helps Sara-Beth back to her feet, and she comes back to me.
“Look what we made,” she says as she lays her head against my shoulder.
“Are you happy, Mrs. Tuttle?” I ask my bride.
She looks up at me, her eyes full of joyful tears. “My cup runneth over.”
The End
