“I love you,” he told her.
“I love you too. And I love my brother. And we got it down to a tag-team art to make hella-good homemade pizza. So get a move on, smokey.”
He examined her face and saw she’d gotten over it after what her mother did to her ex.
She wasn’t in a place where Tawnee Dare could harm her anymore. The fact that Tawnee Dare wouldn’t be physically in a location she could try to harm her was irrelevant.
Greta had made it through the seventh circle.
And now she was free.
“We have another Christmas surprise, sugar,” he reminded her.
Her expression turned curious. “We do?”
“Andy’s bedroom.”
She melted into him, her arms finally going around him. “He knows you’re setting that up for him, Hixon.”
“He knows, but it’s now set up and he hasn’t seen it yet.”
She grinned and gave him a squeeze. “You’re right. We do have a surprise. Because he’s gonna love the comforter Mamie and Corinne chose for him.”
That surprised Hix because Andy might have a TBI but he was still very much a guy.
“He will?”
“He won’t care even a little bit, until we tell him Mamie and Corinne picked it. Then he’ll make a big deal out of loving it.”
That, Hix had learned, was undoubtedly true.
Hix had no idea about Greta and Andy’s fathers, he knew too much about their mother, so he figured it was down to that grit Tawnee Dare mentioned that Greta had that made her brother fall not far from his sister’s tree.
He dug his fingers into her neck gently and said, “Let’s go get your brother.”
She blinded him with a smile and replied, “Yeah, let’s go get Andy.”
He kissed her. He walked her out to his Bronco.
And even if she didn’t want to rejoice, that bitch was gone, so he did.
Thus as a celebration, for the first time in his life with his ass in his Bronc, he let someone else drive her.
And he was in no doubt Greta was the one.
But how much she loved driving his baby proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“I was close.”
“Mm,” he mumbled, sliding a hand over the curve of her ass.
The scary thing was, she had been.
Close to winning.
Then again, he’d been dazzled by his Boxing Day present, a skintight, red lace teddy with fluffy, white feather trim at hips and chest, little straps over the shoulders, crisscross ribbons between her tits and even a thin, red-velvet belt with a tiny rhinestone buckle.
Watching her walk into his bedroom wearing that, he hadn’t even paid attention when she tossed a tube of lube on the bed.
His attention didn’t come back seeing as she tossed it then crawled to him in that getup with her tits almost hanging out and he had to devote his attention to all of that.
So she’d laid down the gauntlet for their rematch, immediately got the upper hand and it took a while for her to lose it.
This was why they were both covered in a sheen of sweat, on their stomachs, flat out across his bed, and he’d just slid out of her ass after making her come taking it then coming himself really fucking hard giving it.
She was hot up there. Unbelievably tight. And she’d gone wild with his hands on her, his mouth on her, drilling her into the bed with his cock up her ass.
It was Hix’s best Christmas present ever, bar none.
Starting with the teddy.
He slid two fingers through her crevice and held her there, murmuring, “You good?”
She turned her head on her arms, her mass of curls shifting with it, and gave him her big, blue eyes.
“You up for a bath?”
He grinned at the look on her face that gave him his answer as well as her question. “Yup.”
She grinned back and he slid his hand up and over, smoothing it on her hip.
“After a recovery bath, loser gives winner a colossal blowjob,” he informed her.
She frowned even if her eyes flared. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“Winner gets to say the deal after he wins.”
She started pouting. “You’re a terrible sport, Hix.”
“How’s that?”
“It’s not how you lose that tells the tale, it’s the class you show when you win,” she educated him.
He leaned in and kissed her shoulder, saying there, “Maybe you can show me that if you win someday.”
“It’s good I love you,” she groused.
He lifted his lips from her shoulder, looked her dead in the eye, and there was no teasing in his voice when he said, “I know.”
The pique went out of her face and her eyes got bright. “Don’t make me cry.”
He shifted so he could pull her slightly under his body, but keep his place on his stomach and put his face in hers.
“I’ll never make you cry,” he vowed.
“Happy tears,” she told him.
“Never,” he whispered, moved in and touched his mouth to hers.
Hers opened so he took the touch into a full-blown kiss.
When he pulled away, she didn’t look like she was going to cry anymore.
There.
All better.
“Did you like your present, baby?” she whispered.
“Are you in doubt, baby?” he whispered back.
“No.”
He touched his nose to hers and held her gaze.
“Hated hearin’ you never had a dream, sweetheart,” he shared gently.
She tightened. “Hix, don’t bring her—”
“But I figure,” he cut her off, “when you’re a walking, talking, singing dream come true, you don’t get it the other way around.”
Her eyes got bright again. “Shit, totally gonna cry.”
He grinned again and moved his hand to cup her ass and give it a squeeze. “None of that.”
“Boss,” she muttered, pulling it together.
“I’ll run the bath,” he murmured in return.
“I’ll lounge here and let you run the bath.”
He pulled back an inch, thinking how hard she’d come.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he ordered.
Her brows shot together in insult. “Would I fall asleep?”
“Not with the promise of sucking me off on our agenda.”
“You like that more than me, Hixon.”
“Considering you’ll be sittin’ on my face doin’ it, I’m not sure that’s true.”
That got him another eye flare.
“Bath,” she ordered.
“Boss,” he muttered, kissed her nose and moved out of the bed.
He ran their bath. He made it nice and hot.
Then he walked out and smiled to himself when Greta let out a surprised scream as he grabbed her ankle, dragged her off the bed and threw her over his shoulder.
“You fell asleep,” he accused, his woman’s ass in the air, her body draped over his shoulder, walking to the bathroom.
“Whatever,” she replied to his back.
They entered the bathroom with Hix still smiling.
I Win
Greta
“BABE!”
“Coming!” I shouted, sitting on the side of my bed, slipping up the zip on my boot.
I dashed into the closet, grabbed a black pashmina, my black leather gloves, then I dashed out, through the room and down the stairs.
I found Hix in the kitchen, fridge open, bent with his face in it, wearing a dark gray suit, his overcoat thrown on my kitchen island.
“Hey,” I greeted.
He straightened as he closed the fridge door and turned to me.
Dark-green shirt, green and gray patterned tie.
Handsome.