Levi
IwakeuponChristmas morning next to a naked Macbeth, and I can’t help but believe in Christmas miracles.
I twist a lock of her dark brown hair around a finger.She’s mine and I’m hers.I’m the luckiest man in the world.
Even if I have no clue how we’re going to tell her brothers.
They know we spent the night alone in the cabin, of course, but since they’re somehow oblivious to the fact that Macbeth is a grown woman who could tempt the pants off a monk, they’re not the least bit worried about anything happening between us.
Macbeth opens her eyes and smiles when she sees me. She begins to say something, but it’s interrupted by a massive yawn.
I chuckle. “Merry Christmas, sleepyhead.”
“Merry Christmas, handsome.” She combs her fingers through my beard.
I guide her hand to my cock, already thick with need for her. I trace a hand down her body until I’m cupping her beautiful pussy in my palm. I’m pleasantly surprised to feel that she’s wet with need for me, too.
I roll on top of her, kissing her deeply as I slowly slide inside her. Neither of us can take it as hard and rough this morning, not after last night. And now that I’ve claimed her, I can just savor her sweetness, taking my time as I gently make love to her.
Afterward, we stay wrapped in each other’s embrace. It’s a perfect moment, and I could stay here forever.
“Levi?” Macbeth asks, her voice tentative.
“Yes, Baby Jones?”
“Do you remember my mother?”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Of course.”
“I don’t,” she admits, her voice soft.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I say, my heart breaking for her. “It’s not fair that you were so young when she left us.”
“I never talk to Dad or my brothers about her. They get too sad. But I was wondering…” She chews on her bottom lip, as if she’s unsure how to ask the question.
“What?” I prompt gently.
“I think she loved Christmas?”
I nod. “She did. She always sang Christmas songs. She couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but it was silly and fun and made us all laugh.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Which was her favorite Christmas song?”
“Rudolph, I think,” I say, tilting my head in thought. “At least, that’s the one she sang the most, but maybe because it wasourfavorite. We’d all scream the chorus along with her.”
“I wish…” Her voice trails off.
I brush her hair from her face. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“I wish she’d had time to pick out an ornament for me. Just one.”
A memory pops to the forefront of my mind, as clearly as if it happed yesterday. “But she did, Beth. I remember it.”
Macbeth frowns, shaking her head. “No. There’s not one with my name on it.”
“I know she picked one out for you. It was a Christmas tree with an angel on top. And the angel’s holding a string of lights that looks kind of like an M.”
I vividly remember pointing that detail out to her mother, saying, “Look, Amelia! The lights look like an M for Macbeth.” And she’d hugged me tight and said, “You always notice things like that. Levi. You have the eyes of an eagle.”
