Maxing out the speed of the vibrator, I started to edge the tip further inside of me. Remembering what the outline of Knox’s dick looked like from the night in my apartment, I knew that if the day ever came, he would have to be slow and gentle to fully fit inside of me, and that made me even wetter. The thought of this man stretching and filling me up made my breath quicken. I pushed the vibrator all the way in and brought it out, gasping for air. The image of Knox shirtless, pushing in and out, his abs contracting and relaxing, flashed across my mind, and after two more thrusts of the vibrator, I was close to climax.
One more drive in and I was there. I saw stars as the room exploded around me. Knox’s name came out of my mouth as I pulled the vibrator from between my legs. My breath was heavy, and I couldn’t believe that I had just fantasized about the man I was most definitelynot here for.
“Aunt Birbie, look at my turkey!” My three-year-old niece Eleanor smiled wide as she held up a handprint turkey covered in crayon scribbles, her blue eyes gleaming and strawberry-blonde curls framing her face in a messy halo.
“Oh my gosh, that’s the best turkey I have ever seen!” I exclaimed, my heart melting.
“Can I see yours?” Eleanor asked, leaning toward Connor’s iPad as if it would allow her to see the page I was coloring at my desk.
I held my paper up to the camera, letting her see the handprint turkey I had traced. On its head sat a ski cap and goggles, and I had drawn skis on its feet, angled to look like it was sliding down a steep mountain slope bordered with pine trees.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I love it, Aunt Birbie!” Ellie exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight.
I set my page back on the desk. Behind me, the coffee table was filled with more food than I could possibly eat: two Cornish game hens with cranberry sauce, whipped potatoes, and roasted brussels sprouts with cranberries and what looked to be a balsamic glaze. On a side table rested a tray with tea and a whole chocolate tart. The food smelled heavenly. I couldn’t wait to dig in.
“Ok, let’s see Mom and Dad’s,” I said, giving my brother a pointed look.
Connor sighed and rolled his eyes. “Not fair, Birdie. You know you got the artistic genes,” he said as he held up his turkey. It looked like a seven-year-old had drawn it. I couldn’t suppress the grin that took over my face.
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted an activity we could all do together as part of our Thanksgiving tradition,” I quipped back.
“Yeah, I’ll get you back soon enough,” he grumbled as headded what I guessed was supposed to be a Santa hat to his drawing.
A knock sounded from my bedroom door.
“Hold on one sec,” I said, hitting mute and turning off my camera as I got up.
I opened the door, expecting to have to remind Vince that I was celebrating American Thanksgiving with my family this evening. Instead, I found Knox.
Knox stood in the hall, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, wearing the same beanie and thick plaid flannel from the day I met him in New York. Eugene sat by his feet, tail wagging excitedly.
Shit!I had been so focused on talking to the kitchen staff about what I needed for Thanksgiving that I had forgotten all about our auction “date” that night.
“Knox! Oh my God. I totally lost track of time.”
“Oh.” Knox shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I can come back later if you want,” he muttered.
I glanced behind me to the iPad where my brother and his family were still drawing and laughing, and to the spread of food by the loveseat. “No, you know what? Come on in. I’m just FaceTiming my family for Thanksgiving and was going to eat in a minute, but the cooks made me way too much food. You should join me.”
Knox peered around me, taking in the scene. A wash ofrealization swept over his face. “Oh no, I couldn’t impose like that.”
“Don’t be silly. My niece is going to have to go down for her nap soon and then it was just going to be me and a whole chocolate tart. You may as well save me from myself there.”
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Knox said, stepping into the room, Eugene bounding along behind him.
I strode back toward the desk. “We just have one more family tradition to finish up. My brother and sister-in-law are for sure gonna make you participate, so you better be ready,” I said, turning the camera and microphone back on.
“Hey guys, this is Knox,” I said, gesturing to where he stood awkwardly behind me. “He’s Oliver’s best friend and stopped by for a contest thing. And that,” I said, turning the camera toward the armchair where Eugene had immediately settled himself, “is Knox’s dog, Eugene. Knox, this is my brother Connor, his wife Colleen, and my niece, Ellie. Say hi to everyone.”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you,” Knox said, stepping up to stand beside me.
Connor’s eyebrow raised. Colleen cut in before he could say anything. “Knox, it’s nice to meet you. Are you American?” she asked, noting his accent.
“I am; my family moved to Wexstone when I was ten. It’s been years since I celebrated Thanksgiving, though.”
“Well, we were just going to each share something we are thankful for before Ellie goes down for her nap. You have to join us!”
