Wonder - Part 2 - Christmas Page 7

  When aikido didn’t work for me, drawing and painting usually provided the escape I needed. I didn’t know what I’d paint when I’d first made the decision to get the supplies, but as soon as I started, I should have known where my inspiration would come from. I began with a painting similar to the drawing I’d done of Alexis when we first met. That sketch had been in pencil, but the color in this painting brought her to life. As I put the finishing touches on her lips, I imagined what they felt like to my fingertips. I tasted them on my own lips.

  My stream of consciousness took me to our wedding, and I painted my beautiful bride in her wedding dress. She’d been so self-conscious in it, which had been absurd. No one could look as good in that dress as she did. Stunning. Her coppery hair had been piled on top of her head with loose curls draping around her face. She’d looked so nervous, like she might bolt, until she took my hand. Her mahogany eyes showed so much love as she recited her vows to me. I’d barely been able to focus on my own vows, blown away that she was actually committing herself to me. Me! Love had never been in my realm of possibilities until she came into my life, and there she was—taking the Amadis vows of marriage. On the canvas before me, I captured her face against the backdrop of the sunset on the beach as she said her vows.

  I couldn’t wait to get her to the beach house that night and only stopped at the restaurant to show the monster that once lived inside me who was in control. All I wanted to do was take her and make her mine, but if I couldn’t restrain my human desires, the monster knew I wouldn’t be able to restrain it. So I forced myself down. Waited as patiently as I could manage. Now I painted the joy in her eyes when she looked at the house for the first time—the Caribbean room, especially—and realized I’d done it for her. She’d been so worried about not getting me a wedding present when that adoration on her face was worth more than gold to me.

  The memories flowed, and as I painted her, I felt her luscious lips, her soft skin, the vulnerability that poured off her. She was scared, I knew, on a few levels, but she put her trust in our love. In me. I held tightly to my control as I fumbled to take that dress off of her, and nearly lost that hold when I couldn’t figure it out. Her lips had tilted with that sweet but sexy smile as she showed me how to take off the top. And fuck if I didn’t almost lose it again when those beautiful tits burst free. They were a little smaller then, before the Ang’dora, but still perfect. Round, plump, with pinkish-brown tips hard like pebbles.

  I moved to another canvas as I remembered the rest of the night. Admiring the perfection that was my Alexis naked. Seeing her flawless olive skin, her curves, the lines of her hips and her thighs and calves, the pink folds between her legs. Feeling her, soft and supple, under my fingers and lips. Tasting her in many places for the first time. Hovering over her and the frightened look in her eyes when my fingers slid inside. She was wet and pulsing, ready for me. Making me throb for her.

  “You’re so big,” she had whispered, and I’d wanted to go all caveman on her. To show her just how much of a man I was. To take possession of her and make her mine. But I didn’t want to scare her anymore than she already was, because damn, I would have gone mad if she’d shut down on me. Again, though, she showed her love and her trust.

  I lost all hold on my conscious mind as soon as I entered her. She wasn’t the first woman I’d been with, but nothing had felt like her, on the outside or in. Bliss overcame me. I wanted to go slow and make it last forever if possible, but at the same time, I wanted to pound her hard and hit that explosion with all the force we had building inside us. I was so afraid I’d break her small, human body, though. I didn’t know at first that she could have nearly broken me. But I found out quickly. She barely moved, and I almost came right there and then without her, but I didn’t want that to be how her first time ended. Somehow, by ensuring that she enjoyed this as much as I did, I held on, stroking her, licking her, sucking and biting, wanting to devour her, pumping and thrusting and rocking together until we both climbed and shouted and exploded with a fierceness more mind-blowing than I could have ever imagined.

  And not too long after, the tip of her pink tongue slid over her swollen red lips, and she wanted to do it again.

  “Um ...” The clearing of a throat brought me back to the training gym. Blossom stood in the doorway with her eyes squeezed shut. “My guess is those are for your eyes only?”

  I turned to the line of paintings I’d done and really saw them for the first time. I’d captured my Alexis beautifully. Perfectly. Erotically.

  “Erm ...” I didn’t know what to say, part of me wanting to show her off, but part of me appalled that anyone else had seen her. Even if it was only Blossom. “Can you hide them?”

  With her eyes still shut, she flicked her hand. The canvases went blank, but black rather than beige.

  “Did it work?” she asked, barely cracking one eyelid open. When she saw that it had, she opened both eyes completely. “I’m, uh, really sorry. They’re really gorgeous, I mean, like wow gorgeous, but I’m sure you didn’t want ... I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Forget about it,” I said, the initial shock worn off. It was only Blossom, and although Alexis would be embarrassed if she knew her best friend had seen these, it could have been worse. She could have been Owen or Dorian. How senseless of me to be painting these here. But that’s what my woman did to me—made me lose all of my senses.

  “I just came to say thank you for letting us use the jet, and, well, Merry Christmas.” She threw her arms around me in a hug.

  I patted her on the back. “Merry Christmas, Blossom.”

  “Dad! There you are!” Dorian came running down the path. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “I need to go,” Blossom said. She bent over to give Dorian a hug goodbye, then she looked at me and over my shoulder at the blank canvases. She couldn’t lift her spell with Dorian there, but she grabbed my hand and tapped the tips of my fingers in a pattern as her lips moved silently. “Tap the pattern on the bottom left corner of each one to expo—er, see them.”

  “Thank you.”

  She gave me a mischievous grin. “I don’t know who’s luckier—you or her.”

  I chuckled. “Definitely me.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” She leaned in closer to me, and whispered, “She’ll love the gift, though.”

  I cocked my head as she walked back toward the mansion, not understanding. Because I still didn’t have a gift for my wife.

  “Dad, I don’t have a present for Mom,” Dorian said, poking me in the stomach. “Can you help me?”

  Apparently our son was in my same situation.

  “What were you doing in there anyway?” he asked before I could answer his first question. He looked past me at all the black canvases.

  I looked over my shoulder and realized one hadn’t been blanked out. The last one—Alexis later in our honeymoon, watching the sunset on the beach. Well, that’s where my vision had apparently been headed. Blossom had walked in before I finished it. Seeing it gave me an aha moment. Was this painting the gift Blossom had meant?

  “Oh, that’s a pretty picture of Mom,” Dorian said, but then he frowned. “It’s not done, though.”

  He followed me inside, and we both studied the picture.

  “She was pregnant with you then,” I said.

  “She doesn’t look fat.”

  I laughed. “You were a little thing then, like a tiny bug inside her. So what do you think? Blue or green here?”

  I pointed to a part of the sky right behind Alexis, thinking blue and not just any blue but a cornflower blue. Dorian had a bit of artistic talent, too, though, and I wondered what he’d pick.

  “This soft, kind of grayish blue,” he said, pointing at a color I’d already mixed on my palette. Pretty close to cornflower. He swept his finger over the painting without touching it. “And make the strokes like this.”

  I handed him the paintbrush. “Why don’t you do it?”

  We finishe
d the painting together, and Dorian beamed with pride when I praised his talent. His hazel eyes sparkled. When I’d first seen them do that, I’d finally understood what Alexis meant about my own eyes when she said the gold in them sparked or sparkled, depending on my mood.

  “We could give this as our present to Mom,” Dorian suggested as we admired the painting. “I think she’d love it.”

  “I think that’s a great idea. But it should be from you.”

  “Do you already have a present for her?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “She’ll like it no matter what, Dad. She likes everything you give her, even if it’s just a kiss.”

  I ruffled his hair and chuckled before taking him back to the house. He might be right, but I would give my wife more than a kiss. Christmas Eve had already blasted to almost noon and I still didn’t have a present for her, but I wasn’t giving up yet.

  “Dude, Tristan, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Owen said as soon as we walked into the kitchen. He grabbed my arm and pushed me back out to the foyer, I assumed to get away from Dorian’s ears. He lowered his voice. “Alexis said you have something that could help me?”

  I dug in my pocket and pulled out the pieces of faerie stone. “They’re all yours if you want the pieces. They have the quality of peace.”

  “Just what I need.” He smacked me on the shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver! But, uh, what do I do with them?”

  I shrugged. “Take them to the jeweler in the village.”

  Scarecrow snorted. “You think I should give them jewelry? Both of them?”

  “Probably not but how else will you get them to wear the stones?”

  His brows puckered so that three lines showed between them. “Good point, but what? The last thing I need is to give either of them the wrong idea.”

  “Scarecrow—”

  He held up his hand to stop me. “I get enough grief from your wife. I know I need to do something but not now. Not at Christmas.”

  I nodded. “You do what you got to do. As for the jewelry, just don’t give either of them a ring.”

  “Right. Chicks read too much into rings. Maybe a necklace? Or earrings?”

  “I don’t know about earrings, but Vanessa certainly likes necklaces. A bracelet might be safest, though.”

  “Cool. Thanks, man.” He stepped toward the door, then turned back to me. “Since I owe you one ...” His eyes narrowed, and he got that look when he was sensing for others’ presence. He took a step closer to me and lowered his voice to a whisper. “She’ll kill me if I tell you, so all I’m going to say is Alexis has something sweet planned for you tonight. Off-island. Just the two of you. She needs me to set a few things up, so if there’s anything you might want to have there ... her present maybe ... I could take it ahead of time.”

  Son of a bitch. She’d really gone all out, and I had a perfect opportunity to do the same, but I still had nothing. Or ... did I?

  Chapter 4

  Scarecrow didn’t let me go to the mysterious location with him, so I gave him specific instructions on how I wanted everything arranged. As specific as possible anyway, considering the only thing he divulged was that we had some kind of place of our own to be alone for the night.

  Anticipation built as afternoon became evening. We enjoyed a festive dinner with everyone except Jax and Blossom who had already left for Australia, then we gathered in the sitting room to exchange presents. Although Sophia’s tradition was theirs only, and not one for all of the Amadis, everyone who stayed in the mansion had stuck to the rules of giving only something of our own or something we’d made. Pieces of art, baked goods, and knitted scarves were exchanged, along with a few more creative items. Dorian gave me a leather cuff he’d tooled, with some help of course, and a tear rolled down Alexis’s cheek when she opened the painting our son gave her.

  “Thank you,” she said in my head as she smothered Dorian in a hug.

  That’s Dorian’s gift, I said, but she knew he’d had my help.

  “Are you ready for yours?”

  My gaze swept over to the 15-foot Christmas tree. There are no more gifts.

  She smiled. “Mine wouldn’t fit under there.”

  Mine either. I winked when her eyes came back to my face after she stole a glance at my lap. Her expression glossed over for a moment, her eyes filled with adoration.

  She blinked, then stood up so fast, her form was a blur. “Wow, I’m so tired. I think it’s time to head upstairs.”

  “Already?” Dorian asked, and he scowled when he looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

  Alexis stretched and forced a yawn. “Really? I’m exhausted.”

  “Maybe you’re getting sick, Mom. You should go to bed. You don’t want to be sick on Christmas.”

  “Yes, little man, I think you’re right.” She bent over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “Me, too,” I said, quickly rising to my feet. “I’m not feeling well, either.”

  “Probably because you can’t stop kissing Mom,” Dorian said, bringing a laugh out of everyone in the room.

  “I’ll take care of him,” Sophia said with a knowing smile.

  We made our escape, but instead of going upstairs to our suite, Alexis grabbed my hand and led me into the darkness outside. We flashed to the pier and hopped into one of the speedboats. The stars sped by overhead as we passed through the island’s shield, but instead of having us flash, she told me where to navigate the boat. A small island, a dark shadow at first, came into view. Alexis pointed to the boat dock, and then she disappeared. I studied the area while tying up the boat. A house stood on the edge of the beach surrounded by foliage, and I sensed Alexis inside.

  “Stay on the beach,” she instructed me.

  I had no problem with that. I’d found Owen’s set-up out there, waiting for me. I adjusted the arrangement of canvases into a semi-circle and tapped the pattern out Blossom had given me to lift her spell. Several renditions of my wife in various states of arousal came into view. With a flick of my fingers, I lit the candles scattered about: pillars on metal stands near the paintings, votives in the sand, and tea lights floating in the water of the quiet cove. As I appraised the scene, a gasp sounded behind me.

  “Tristan! I did this for you, and you made it ... even more perfect.”

  I turned and sucked in my own breath at the sight of her. She stood in the center of the circle of paintings, her hands over her mouth and her eyes glistening, wearing a dress that looked very much like her wedding dress. She moved closer to the first painting, and I flashed to stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her.

  “They’re ... amazing,” she breathed as we moved to the next one. She praised each one at first, but grew silent as we proceeded and the paintings became more intimate, more erotic. “Um ... wow. Do I really look that good when we’re doing it?”

  I laughed out loud, then leaned in and pressed my lips to her exposed neck. “You are the most beautiful creature in the world,” I whispered against her ear, “especially when we’re doing it.”

  She shuddered, then turned to face me. Her hand swept over her dress. “Looks like we were thinking along the same lines.” She stood on her toes to deliver a kiss that made my dick jump in my pants, then she took my hands and pulled me inside the house. Into the bedroom, specifically, which appeared to be very similar to our Caribbean room in the Keys. “Owen helped me make it look just right. It’s just an illusion, of course.”

  “It’s a perfect gift,” I said.

  “Oh, this is only the beginning.” She pushed me to the edge of the bed, forcing me to sit, then she took two steps backwards, away from me. I reached for her but she shook her head. “Blossom helped me, too. For example, this dress is only an illusion.”

  “I like it, all of this, reliving our honeymoon.”

  She giggled. “Not exactly, though. See, I was pretty innocent and naive then. I’ve grown up quite a bit ... learned a few thing
s ...”

  With a glint of naughtiness in her eyes, her fingers swirled in the hem, and the dress disappeared. It didn’t expose her naked body, though. She suddenly wore a black leather corset, a black thong, and Blossom’s hot-pink stilettos. With a snap of her fingers, music filled the room, and a pole appeared.

  “This is your real gift,” she said.

  Her body began to move to the music, and I quickly realized she wasn’t dancing randomly, but performing a choreographed routine. As if I wasn’t already turned on, I grew hard as a rock watching her work up and down the pole like an expert. Where did this come from? I hoped it wasn’t a one-hit wonder. By the time the music stopped and she stood in front of me, the top of her corset was loosened and her thong was gone. With a yank of my finger, the string came away from the first several eyelets, and those magnificent tits sprang free. My hands enclosed her waist, and I jerked her to me, ready to ravage every inch of her body.

  “You are so damn sexy,” I said against the soft skin between her breasts.

  She placed a hand on my chest and pushed me away. She shook her head, and then pointed at my pants. “And you’re still dressed. Didn’t I tell you what I wanted for Christmas?”

  I moved fast, but she was even faster. In a heartbeat, my clothes were on the floor, I was pressed against the headboard with leather straps tying my wrists to each post, and my dick stood hard and tall, at complete attention for my wife. She climbed onto the bed and, slowly, so painfully slowly, she crawled over to me on all fours with a wicked smile that made every muscle in my body jerk toward her. The leather ties dug into my wrists. I could easily break through them, of course, but I played along. For now.

  She teased me with her mouth on my jaw, then my throat, to my chest, down my stomach, and back up again. Her tongue thrust into my mouth as she kneeled over me, swirling her hips only centimeters above my cock, making it dance with her, straining to get inside. But instead of lowering herself onto it, she rose to her feet and stood on the bed, towering over me, her tits like soft globes over the top of the corset, her nipples long and hard. Her slit right in front of my face. My fingers twitched, wanting to touch it. My tongue slid over my lips as I gazed at it, yearning for the salty-sweet taste inside.