Page 53 of A Dye Hard Holiday

“Be quiet or you’ll wake everyone up. They’re resting for the big party tonight.” Our Ugly Christmas Sweater parties were legendary.

“We have a little time to play around then?”

“How do you have energy to get it up?” I asked. We had taken turns in the swing the past two nights, working through his frustration over the elusive bandits. I was deliciously exhausted and sore in all the right places.

“I’m breathing, aren’t I?” The lust in Gabe’s eyes sparked need in the pit of my stomach, but I knew we wouldn’t have much time before the munchkins woke from their nap.

“Shut the door anyway, because I don’t want anyone to hear you shouting,” I said, as he carried me into our bedroom.

“Allll right.”

“This is not a sexy punishment, Gabe. Your screams won’t be from pleasure.”

“Oh, you’ve got me intrigued now.”

“Put me down then sit on the edge of the bed.” Once he did as instructed, I said, “Now close your eyes and don’t open them until I say.”

“Yes, Bad Daddy,” Gabe purred.

Damn him! “No peeking,” I reminded him as I removed my t-shirt and pulled part one of his surprise over my head. I walked to stand in front of him with part two of his surprise in my hand. I held up my arms so his gift was at eye level and tried my best to hold my laughter inside me. “Okay, open them.”

“No. I think I’ll stay up here tonight.”

“What? No!”

“I heard the laughter in your voice and the rustle of you changing clothes in the closet.” He reached out and blindly felt around with his hands until he touched his gift. “I fucking knew it was going to be a hideous sweater.”

“Duh, it’s called an Ugly Christmas Sweater party. Now open your eyes so you can appreciate my genius. We match!”

“No.” Gabe lay back on the bed, hiding his eyes behind his forearm. “Nothing you can do will make me acknowledge whatever is in your hands or wear it.” He cupped his crotch with his free hand and said, “Well, maybe you could find some way to entice me.”

“How old are you?” I demanded to know.I would not take his bait. I would not take his bait. I would… Damn him.“Don’t get your spunk on my sweater.”

“Don’t dribble,” Gabe suggested, “or, better yet, take the ugly-ass thing off.”

“You haven’t seen it,” I protested.

“Don’t need to; I know you.”

I was starting to rethink my decision to fall on his cock at the snap of his finger or thinly-veiled challenge. I teased his hard-on through his jeans, as I debated whether I should bring him to his knees with my skillful mouth, or play harder to get.Yeah right. I snorted and reached for his top button, but the angry cries coming through the monitor altered my plans.

Gabe groaned in frustration.

“Oh now,” I said, climbing off the bed. “It’s probably a good thing because you’ll want to save your spunk for tonight’s gift.”

“What time will this party be over?” he groused.

“When the last person leaves.” I stopped at the door and looked back at him over my shoulder. “Voluntarily,” I amended. “Make sure you’re downstairs with your sweater on in an hour.”

“Bossy.”

“Whiny.”

“Horny.”

“I’m not touching that one, Gabe.”

“You were about to touch it until our precious little angels woke up.” I suspected he wanted to use a different noun to describe our children right then, but he was no dumbass.