Author: Olivia Cunning

She nodded slightly and blushed, keeping her gaze lowered. He wasn’t sure why, but her acting all shy and demure was kind of sexy.

“Please, sit,” she said quietly.

He sat. The hardwood floors were cold against his bare ass, but his blood ran hot and he’d surely be overheated in no time.

She set the tray on the floor and retrieved a quilt from a wooden rack at the end of the bed. She placed it on the floor and encouraged Eric to move onto it. Kneeling beside him, she poured tea from the pot into the tiny cup. When she handed it to him, her fingertips brushed his. That seemingly accidental touch streaked up his arm and sent a shiver down his spine. She kept her eyes downcast, her body tense, as if he made her nervous. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that he found her little act sexy. He found everything she did a total turn-on. He took a sip of the tea and it burned the hair off his tonsils.

Eyes watering, Eric sputtered and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s a tad hot,” he breathed.

She looked up, her bottom lip trembling. “I do not please you?”

He knew she wanted him to play a role, but he simply could not stand the devastated look, even if it was an act. He tucked a finger under her chin and moved in for a tender kiss. “You always please me. You are incapable of displeasing me.”

She chuckled, dropping her act. “I think you’ll need tutoring on this scenario.”

“Now?”

“Unless… Do you want to open more presents?”

He hesitated, then grinned and nodded eagerly.

“Anything you want to save for another day, you can. You have a lot of presents. Probably too many to enjoy in one day.”

He couldn’t pretend to be anything but excited. He grabbed her in an exuberant hug. “What’s next?”

“Your next present is in the kitchen. Go put on some shorts and meet me downstairs. No peeking until I join you.”

He grinned. “So you don’t want me naked for this one?”

“Not all your gifts are sexual in nature.”

“Bummer.”

“The racetrack gift certificate, for example.”

He squeezed her and rooted on her neck with loud sloppy kisses until she giggled and squirmed. “That is a fucking awesome non-sexual gift, but afterward, I’m sure I’ll be pretty worked up.”

“You can make anything sexual, Eric.”

“You’re just figuring that out?”

“Nope. I’m celebrating it.” She kissed him and squirmed out of his arms. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

She collected her tray and climbed to her feet. As soon as she was out of the room, he hurried to his bedroom to tug on a pair of shorts and took the stairs two at a time. He spotted several gift boxes in the family room on his way past and three more on the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He sat at the bar and stretched his neck so he could read the tags on each box. They were all different sizes and shapes. There was one for his fifth birthday, another for his twelfth and a third for his twenty-first. He wondered if she would make him open them in order. By the time she finally joined him, wearing an old T-shirt and jeans, he was about to explode with anticipation. She smiled when he grabbed the box labeled for his fifth birthday.

“Can I open it now?”

She nodded. He didn’t know what he expected, but two boxes of hair-dye—one platinum blond, the other purple—was not it. “What’s this?”

“It’s time to get rid of this mousy brown color.”

“I do prefer you as a blonde with blue.”

“How about a blonde with purple? And I’d like to color your blue strand purple to match mine, if you’ll let me.”

He released a heavy breath. “Okay, I suppose my every forty-nine days tradition is pretty lame anyway.”

“Am I messing up something sacred?”

“Just a stupid superstition.”

“We can wait.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe it brings me luck anymore.”

“You still like changing the color though, right?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of my trademark. There are betting pools online about what my next color will be.”

“How many have their money on purple?”

He laughed. “Two little girls I met at a homeless shelter, for sure.”

Eric was surprised by how fun it was to dye each other’s hair. She let him choose where he wanted the purple to go in her hair. Instead of doing the under-layer, like she’d had it when they’d met, the purple strands framed her lovely face, and there were a few streaks in the back where he’d gotten a little carried away. Every stupid thing they did together made him feel closer to her.

He opened more presents, ranging from a book of Shakespearean limericks to a case of hot dogs for the tour bus. She’d put a lot of thought into all his gifts. There were several costumes for their bedroom games—a cheerleader, an angel, and a sexy pirate wench.

When he opened the Spider-Man costume that included two cans of silly string, he grabbed a can and chased Rebekah around the house until he eventually cornered her and sprayed his sticky web all over her.

He had personalized drumsticks, a new flask and some Cabo Wabo tequila to fill it, and a pair of handcuffs with the instructions: “for me or you, it’s your decision.” He was too overwhelmed to make any decisions at the moment. In the living room, she dropped another present in his lap and sat beside him on the sofa.

She gave his knee an encouraging squeeze as he opened the box. Inside he found a framed picture of himself and Rebekah. It was the same picture he used as his phone’s screen saver, where they were simultaneously kissing, smiling, and looking at the camera. It was his favorite picture in the world. The frame was engraved with the word family. He got a little choked up as he ran his fingertips over the lettering. Couldn’t help it.

“I love it,” he said breathlessly.

Rebekah climbed from the sofa, then took a hammer and nail from an end table. “Where are we going to hang it?”

His interior decorator would have a cow if she knew he’d hung a picture in her perfectly designed living room. They hung the picture on the wall beside a Thomas Kincaid print. Both grinned at it for a good five minutes.

“We’re going to add more soon,” she said.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her against his side. “Yeah.” He bent to nibble on her ear, now wishing he’d asked her to put on that cheerleading costume instead of saving it for a later date.

Hand splayed over his belly, she shuddered. “Go wait for me in the family room,” she said. “Sit at the piano.”

“I’m ready for some hot lovin’ now,” he said.

She winked at him. “You’ll probably get some.”

“Probably?”

She grabbed him by the hair at the nape of his neck and kissed him until his dick was so hard his stomach ached.

She pulled away and stared hungrily into his eyes. He stroked the purple strands of hair from her face.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she promised.

He wasn’t sure how she managed to get away. He sure as hell didn’t want her to escape. Not even for ten minutes. He knew by now that she had something sexy planned, and half the fun was imagining what it might be. With a sigh, he went to the family room and waited at the black grand piano. The piano’s lid had been lowered and several more colorful boxes were sitting there. He would never figure out how she’d managed to put this together. She had to have an accomplice. There’s no way she could have done all this by herself. They were together almost constantly.

He got bored enough to play the piano while he waited. That little melody duet that he’d written for their tattoos was starting to stretch into a song.

A pair of soft, warm palms rested on his shoulders and then slid down his chest. His hands went still on the keys. One finger caught in his nipple ring. The gentle tug made his balls tighten. Her breasts pressed against his back. Unfortunately, they weren’t bare.

“Happy birthday to you,” Rebekah sang into his ear in a sultry, breathless voice.

Her hands slid lower, over his belly.

“Happy birthday to you,” she continued.

He turned to look at her and almost fell off the piano bench. Rebekah wore a white halter dress with a long, loose skirt. It was a replica of the one Marilyn Monroe wore in The Seven Year Itch. The costume didn’t stop at the dress; Rebekah had the wig, the makeup. She looked as hot as hell in July.

“Happy Birthday, Mister Eric Sticks,” she sang in that same sexy voice.

She slid around his body to sit on his lap, her arms around his neck, her eyelids heavy as she looked at him with open invitation.

Oh dear God.

“Happy Birthday… to… you.”

Heart thudding, he lowered his head to kiss her. His hand slid up one smooth leg, under her skirt, higher and higher until he knew for certain. She wasn’t wearing panties. He lifted her onto the piano and ducked his head under her skirt. Her heels dug into his back as she encouraged his exploring lips and tongue. He sampled her flowing juices, tongue dancing over slick flesh, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still as he excited her to a writhing mass of feminine perfection.

Breathless with anticipation, he emerged from beneath her skirt and tugged his shorts down to free his straining cock. He jerked her body toward him, and she slid off the slick lid of the piano onto the keys, which gave a discordant clang. Finding her opening beneath her skirt, he inserted his cock carefully and then surged forward, filling her with one hard, deep thrust. Pumping into her with a steady rhythm, he opened his eyes to look at her. He tugged her wig off and ran his fingers through her soft hair. As sexy as she was when she was pretending to be someone else, he preferred the real woman.

His woman.

She was more than enough for him. Everything he would ever need.

He captured her lips with his and slowed his pace, not seeking release any longer. Seeking something more. The connection between them. The one he only felt when he was with her. His hands slid down the bare flesh of her back, and he pressed her body close. Their hearts thundered out of control, his against hers, hers against his.

She broke their kiss, and he gazed into her beautiful blue eyes. She stared at him as if in awe. Eventually, he had to ask, “What?”

She wrapped both arms around his waist and snuggled against his shoulder. “Sometimes it just hits me,” she whispered. “How lucky I am to be with you.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

There was a crunch of gravel in the driveway. Rebekah stiffened. “What time is it?”

Outside, a car door slammed shut.

Eric checked the grandfather clock. “Um, almost six.”

“Already?” she gasped. “Hurry up and come.”

“I wonder who that is,” he said, trying to see out in the driveway through a window on the far wall.

Looking half-panicked, Rebekah shoved him back so that his cock slipped from her body. She dropped to her knees in front of him and sucked him into her mouth. She was obviously intent on making him come as quickly as possible. He let the pleasure consume him, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ears as she bobbed her head and sucked hard. He erupted in her mouth, his body taut as he let go.

She swallowed his offering and hopped to her feet, tugging his shorts in place as the doorbell rang. “We’ll do this again later,” she promised. “You can take as long as you want then.”

He chuckled. Six weeks ago, he never took long at all, and now she was apologizing for making him come too fast.

“I love you, woman.”

She grinned. “I know. I love you too. Go answer the door. I need to find some panties.”

She hurried out of the room. The doorbell rang again. “Come on, dude!” he heard Brian call from the front porch. “All this stuff is getting heavy!”