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I stared down at my beautiful girl, my cock still buried deep inside of her. What had she just said? And why didn’t I know that about her? I thought I knew everything about Monroe at this point. I’d made it my mission in life—find out everything so that I could make her life the best it could possibly be.
But maybe I’d just assumed…
Immediate hatred spiked through my gut because I knew it had something to do with the worthless piece of shit that was her mother. Maybe you shouldn’t think ill of the dead, but I’d have a lot to say to that woman if she was alive right now. She deserved all the pain and misery she’d had in her life.
I rolled us over so that I was on my back and she was sprawled across me. My dick was hard again, but I was used to ignoring it at this point. If I fucked her as often as I wanted, her pussy would probably break.
And we couldn’t have that. I loved it too much.
“Tell me,” I demanded, hating the look of defeat in her gaze.
She tried to look away and I thrust up so that I had her attention once again.
Monroe sighed and rolled her eyes. “Do I have to tell you everything?”
“Yes,” I replied simply. “That’s how this works. You tell me what hurts. And I make it better.”
Her features softened and I held in my groan. Because when she looked at me like that…it was hard not to fuck her. Immediately.
“Just a bad Christmas when I was a kid. She made promises. Broke them. And Santa never came. Kind of scarring as a little kid,” she whispered. “It happened a bunch of times but for some reasonthatChristmas was what broke me.”
I groaned and brushed a kiss against her lips, licking up the tear that had fallen down her face.
“I hate that I can’t erase every single one of those bad memories, baby,” I murmured, surging up into her.
She gasped and grasped my face, brushing her own gentle kiss across my lips. “You make everything else better though,” she whispered. My fingers dug into her hips and I pushed up into her again.
Sometimes…a lot of times…words weren’t enough with this girl. I couldn’t adequately tell her why my soul lived inside her. Why I was obsessed with everything about her.
My words weren’t enough to make her feel thisneedinside of me.
But my body sure as fuck could.
2
Lincoln
An hour later, I’d finally let her out of bed and she was seated at the counter while I made breakfast.
“So how far does this hatred of Christmas go? Are Christmas pancakes allowed?” I asked casually.
She cocked her head, biting down on her lip in a way that made my dick twitch despite the fact that I’d cum several times this morning already.
“Christmas pancakes…what are those?”
“Let me surprise you,” I told her, an idea forming. I had a shitty upbringing with my psycho parents. But the one time of year when my family always pulled their shit together before my brother died…Christmas. It was the only time where my mom acted like a mom. Where my dad wasn’t the consummate asshole. And after my brother died…I’d had Ari.
Since one of my goals was to replace all of Monroe’s bad memories with good ones…Christmas seemed like a good one to add to the list.
I couldn’t cook for shit, but Mrs. Bentley had left us the batter for her famous Christmas pancakes, a tradition we’d had for years. I could handle those at least.
Thirty minutes later, the pancakes were done. Buttery, coconut perfection if I didn’t fucking say so myself with whipped cream, macadamia nuts, and coconut syrup. I set the plate down in front of Monroe with a flourish before lifting her up and settling down in the chair with her in my lap. She squirmed and I sighed. Another breakfast with an erection pushing against her ass.
She glanced back at me over her shoulder with a smirk, and I growled.
“Eat your damn breakfast, pretty girl.”
I scooped up a bite of the pancakes, making sure to get one loaded with all the toppings, and I held it up to her lips.
