Not only did I have a mild ache in my ass, but my other muscles complained at being so thoroughly manipulated andcontorted by my excited lover. I was wrecked in the best possible way and took a certain satisfaction from the lingering war wounds.
Any questions I had about the doctor’s experience were laid to rest. The man knew what he was doing, and he was damn good.
I relived it over and over as I washed and dressed, catching myself smiling more than once. Following the scent of coffee to the kitchen, I hummed a tune, feeling calm and satiated. It had been a long time since I’d celebrated Christmas, and it was the first one I’d ever looked forward to. I wasn’t alone, and the glimpse at what a future with Dominique might entail gave me energy.
I found Dominique and Cosette in the living room, the latter unpacking a stocking full of goodies, smears of chocolate decorating the corners of her mouth. When Dominique glanced up with a warm smile, my lips parted in surprise.
He hadn’t escaped our foray unscathed. A faint bruise colored his cheekbone, and two tiny scratches lay partly hidden in his morning stubble over his jaw.
“Damn.” I approached and kissed them both, whispering an apology in his ear.
Dominique wrapped an arm around me and slinked a hand over my ass, gently squeezing. “Don’t worry about me. How are you?”
“Pleasantly sore and viciously marked. Turns out my lover is a beast in bed, and for the record, that is not a complaint.”
“Good.” He kissed my temple with a content sigh.
Later, Dominique introduced me to princess pancakes—made using a mold that I argued looked nothing like a princess. Cosette and I added strawberries to ours along with thick layers of whipped cream and syrup.
Dominique looked like he wanted to protest the sheer volume of sugar but kept his mouth shut.
We left the dishes and gathered in the living room, where Cosette unwrapped endless presents with the trademark enthusiasm of a toddler. Dolls, toy purses, plastic jewelry, and new clothes. Hair ties and simple board games. A princess costume and art supplies.
I had gotten her an eight-piece musical instrument set that included a tambourine, a wooden flute, maracas, bells, and more. I thought Dominique was going to deck me, but it was his fault for telling me how much she enjoyed music.
Cosette spent the next hour clanging, banging, and singing every song she knew as she marched around the house dressed like Ariel fromThe Little Mermaid, red wig and glittery fin included.
Even I regretted my decision after twenty minutes of endless noise.
We spent the afternoon watching children’s Christmas movies—including Jim Carrey as the Grinch—and ended up going for an afternoon walk in the snow to burn off the sheer volume of chocolate Cosette had eaten. The blizzard had stopped, much to Dominique’s dismay, but enough accumulated that I was able to show Cosette how to make snow angels and build snow princesses.
We landed at a park, and as Cosette ran and played on the snow-covered equipment, Dominique and I threw snowballs at one another, laughing and racing about like we were teenage boys.
I couldn’t have asked for a better day.
What made it even better was that my phone didn’t ring, summoning me to work. “It’s a Christmas miracle,” I said at one point.
Cosette napped when we got home. “Not typical anymore,” Dominique shared, but we had exhausted her.
Taking advantage of the quiet, Dominique and I locked ourselves in the bedroom for a repeat of our pre-dawn foray. Cringing at the numerous welts he’d left behind, Dominique cautiously kissed each one, apologizing more than once.
“I’m not complaining,” I assured him. “Besides, I apparently got you, too.” I touched the bruise on his cheek. It had darkened slightly but wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the bite marks on my ass or the gouges he’d left down the length of my thighs.
That time, we made love slowly and quietly. The fevered pitch from earlier was gone. It was loving touches and sweet caresses. Lingering kisses and shared breath. Our climaxes rolled through us like spring storms rather than destructive hurricanes, and I thought to myself, yes, this could be love.
After, we lay together, happy and sated, chatting about the day and eventually taking our own nap.
Our peaceful bubble did not last long enough. It popped the following day.
27
Dominique
The call came atthree o’clock on Boxing Day afternoon.
Kobe, Cosette, and I had picked up Émeric at ten to go tobogganing. Despite their age difference, the kids wore themselves out going up and down the slope, running and squealing and playing nonstop. Shortly after lunch, when exhaustion had set in, we located the nearest Tim Hortons and bought them hot chocolate and chili to feed their growling bellies. Rosy-cheeked, they ate gluttonously.
As we drove the quiet streets to drop Émeric off, Kobe’s phone rang. A sinking feeling in my gut told me our holiday celebration had come to an end. We had taken my vehicle to the snow hills—needing Cosette’s booster seat—and as I pulled into the parking lot at the townhouse where Émeric lived, Kobe dug his phone from the inside pocket of his parka.
