I miss Halia every day, and every day I talk about her with Arianna. Every day I thank her for giving me a daughter, and I promise to do my best to make her happy.
I lean against the door frame, arms crossed, and watch the people I love the most in the entire world.
Jay is waltzing around the kitchen, with festive socks on his feet, humming to the radio. He’s wearing one of my jumpers, a red one to match the festive season, and gosh if I don’t love it. He looks amazingly edible.
I’m itching to get my hands on him, take everything off until he’s wearing only what’s mine and then riding me until we’re both breathless and happy.
My dick loves the idea as much as I do.
While making Jay mine will be sweet and blissful, watching them while they don’t know I’m here, takes away the trepidation that this sublime life is just a dream from which I’ll wake up one day.
Arianna is in the high chair, and like me she’s looking at Jay, blabbering in her own language and clapping her hands when he says something to her.
After what happened with my parents, and at Adam’s suggestion, I’ve taken steps to adopt Arianna. We’re waiting to hear from the court at any moment now. I’ve also taken steps to request a no-contact order to protect her from their harmful, manipulative, and unsafe behaviour. I’ve provided Adam with all the threatening and homophobic texts they sent me before and after the court hearing. They never learn.
I push those thoughts away, they’re not what I want to focus on. Instead, I go back to admiring these two, who seem to be having the best time ever, and I want to be part of it.
When Jay bends to check inside the oven… so no pancakes, we’re probably having cinnamon biscuits instead.
I sneak closer, gesturing to Arianna to keep silent. She babbles, and I grin. I put my hands on Jay’s hips, caressing his arse, and I laugh when he jumps and turns around with a scowl on his beautiful face.
Now that we’re looking at each other, I pull him against me, caging him inside my arms. “Hi.” I love this, so familiar and only for us.
“Hi,” he says, breathless from all that dancing, or maybe—and I prefer my version—from my touch, my presence, and my very awakened cock rubbing against him. He rises up onto his toes and puts his arms around my neck and then his lips are on mine.
Definitely my version is winning.
I never get tired of this, of having him in my arms, his lips on mine, and his body pressed against my own.
“Arianna and I are making biscuits.”
“The smell is amazing.”
“You smell good too,” he says on my lips, teasing me, as if I need any teasing to be ready to take him to bed.
“Behave,” he says with a grin. “Innocent eyes are on us.”
“You’ve become too good at reading my mind.” This time I wear a scowl, a fake one.
His head falls back when he laughs, exposing his neck, and I’m too weak to resist. I nibble at his Adam’s apple, and I love the guttural moan he lets out before pulling away and taking a few steps away from me.
“Arianna is watching, you naughty man. You won’t be getting anything this Christmas.”
I take a step forward and pull him into my arms once again. “I have everything I want and need in this room.” I love how his eyes sparkle and fill with love.
“You sweet-talker,” he says, pulling me down by my shirt for another lust-burning kiss.
It’s amazing not to live waiting for the next disaster to happen. Instead, everything is so domestic and beautiful, and still feels like a dream. I can’t believe nine months ago we were fighting so many fights and believing everything was against us being together. We made it, though, and here we are enjoying a normal family day.
The alarm sounds, and he pushes me away again to get to the oven. “My biscuits.”
At the same time, the bell rings and Jay stills, then turns afraid eyes on me. “Babe?” Jay’s voice trembles with apprehension.
“It’s going to be fine,” I say to him after pulling him back to me, landing another kiss on his lips. Not for fireworks, but as a way of anchoring him and showing him that even if things aren’t perfect, they’re perfect for us, and we’re perfect for each other.
The next kiss is for telling him that I won’t allow anyone to hurt him.
He nods and hands me the gloves, putting me in charge of saving the biscuits while he slowly walks to the door.
