Holding her while she sleeps, crying with her when I was so tired, looking at her in awe as she smiles...
Imogene.
This disaster, turning into peace and love. And home and family.
Making love for the first time. Not sex. Love. And passion. And heat. And oh my God, the things we explored with each other in only a few weeks...
Finding my hero.
Finding my wife.
“Because everything with you is good,” I whisper, eyes suddenly full.
Imogene’s smile softens, then broadens again. “That. That’s the best reason. Out of a million reasons. But the one I wasthinking of was that we’re going to keep going. I thought when Blase broke in, that everything would end. Be ruined. I’d lose my friends. My home. You and Laurel.” Her hands come up to stroke my jaw. “But it didn’t happen. My friends were there for me today, and you have friends, too. We’re not just loners in love anymore. We’re people with a new life in front of us, new friends. And... And you saw me at my worst. You still love me.”
“All of that’s beautiful, honey, and you’re right—except for the part that I saw you at your worst.”
“I mean... When I was fighting. All scratched up and screaming, and acting like some savage monster.”
I shake my head. “Warrior badass. The best version of krampus, baby, the one who punishes real evil. I hated that it happened, but I thought you were at your best. One of the many versions of the best. You’re the best at being loving and gentle. The best at being comforting. The best at being strong and brave. Is it any wonder I’m in love with every version of you? They’re all the same, just different parts.” I tip her head to kiss the spot between her horns. “And I love ‘em all.”
ARTIE’S WORDS EMPOWERme, some final layer of super glue that holds all the fractured parts of me together. He loves me shy and weak, pretty much helpless. He loves me stomping demons who are breaking into my home. He loves me rocking our baby and picking up toys. He loves me in my baggy hand-me-downs, my vintage thrift shop finds, and my naughty lingerie.
I raise his chin, and it’s my turn to plant a kiss, a long, hot one that claims his mouth and makes it clear I’m impatient for more.
Too impatient. I tip us back onto the bed, and Artie moans when I’m on top of him.
He likes me like this. Bold. Happy. In love with him.
“I want all of you, every inch in every hole,” I whisper between kisses that trail down his bare chest.
“Oh, Immy, yess. I want that pussy wrapped around my cock. Want you coming all over my face.” His hands claw at the stretchy white fabric, and my breasts spring free as he wriggles the stretchy neckline down over my chest. His hand, shining in the candlelight thanks to his new wedding band, traces over my breasts, finding the nipples.
I push my hand into his loose black boxers and grip his cock, taking it into my fist and milking it with new confidence. He loves this. Loves me.
Just as I’m about to bend and suck him into my mouth, Artie bends, and we bang heads.
“Holy cow. That could have been bad,” Artie laughs, and his thumb flicks open the snaps at my crotch.
“If I’d had my horns, we could have been spending the night in the ER.”
“Nope. I prefer the BR. Bedroom.”
“Dad jokes unlocked,” I tease, and roll away from him. I turn on all fours and wiggle my hips at him, showing him my pussy as the lace opening swings free. “Mouth here,” I pat my bottom, “and cock here.” I point to my lips.
Artie scoots under me. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Ma’am! I’m twenty!”
“But you’re a wife and mom. A missus. A ma’am. And you’re definitely a WILF.”
“A what?”
Artie’s tongue slurps along my sex, and I moan as I inhale his cock, taking the whole thing into my mouth in one deep swallow.
“WILF,” he moans. “Wife I’d Love To Fuck.”
“It’s Krampusnacht, after all. New tradition. We each get one wish,” I murmur when I release him from the prison of my mouth.
