The Naughty List Ch. 02

Sparks shot out from my core inside, and my body lifted up, hovering in the air for a second before flopping back to the couch. He did it again with the same effect. And then I felt him lean forward. I managed to part my eyelids enough to see him grab something out of the black box. I didn't keep much else in there and couldn't remember what was left. We'd only used the contents a couple of times while watching a movie due to my roommate always being here. Chris was taking advantage of our opportunity, for sure.

"Does he know how to use your toys properly?"

Lightning lit up my eyes at the vibrations suddenly pulsating through my clit. Then I was twisting from side to side. Whimpering but refusing to ask him if I could come...to say what I'd been holding back.

The vibrations stopped, leaving me panting...grateful. But his thumb lightly tapped several times just above my clit, eliciting a string of sharp cries from my lungs as my inner muscles clenched and released. Suddenly, he smacked my pussy and flicked my clit full-on.

I screamed, unable to close my legs due to his position or spread them wider because he was gripping my right thigh, holding it in place. Inside, I did clamp down, just barely stemming my release. And then the vibrator started up again. I'd heard the steady humming before I felt the plastic tip move along the outside of my pussy, but my body still jerked as though I'd been electrocuted. Although it was useless, I clawed at the cushion under me again. Tried to dig my feet into the other end of the couch.

Twice more, he alternated between touching the toy to my clit and just the outside of my swollen pussy, pulling away right when I was on the edge. But there wasn't much relief before it started up again. Overall, it left me feeling vulnerable with no doubt that he held all the control.

"Does he touch you like this?" A finger swept through the heat I could feel radiating off of the insides of my thighs. He moaned, probably at how wet and hot I was. "Or this?"

Strangled, gurgle-like sounds erupted from my throat as he continued with two fingers. Rubbing harder...deeper. Teasing at my entrance but not penetrating. Driving me even further up to the pinnacle but not letting me drop in a perfectly executed game of cat and mouse.

"Hmm, Holly? Does he bring you right to the edge?" He pulled his hand away suddenly. "And then leave you hanging?"

The growl that came from me was frustration and need bundled together. It was primal. Desperate.

My mind was still reeling that he was doing this to me—as delicious as it was—when he hopped up onto the couch into a kneeling position. His hands collected my legs beneath my knees and pressed up, finally spreading me open like I'd wanted to before. Then he just sat there staring down at me, his chest rising and falling slightly faster now. His cock barely moved it was so hard.

"Does this man...," he licked his lips, "make you scream when he fucks you?"

I held my breath, anticipating him sliding into me. Making what he'd just said actually happen. But he continued to kneel there, his eyes burning into mine. My chest shuddered and heaved on my next inhale and exhale, the ropes feeling like they were what was holding my heart and lungs inside me, not my ribcage. My breasts and pussy throbbed, my nipples tingling from how tight they were.

Silently, I begged him to please touch me like I needed. He'd known for months now just what to do when I was unable to speak my desires for whatever reason. Just a few quick thrusts could ease the ache...for both of us. Because I could see from the sweat on his forehead and the overly-defined muscles in his arms, he was straining to maintain control.

His eyes flashed, and he leaned forward. My pelvis rose to him. We both let out broken moans when his flesh touched mine. It was just the tip of his cock—primarily the reverse Prince Albert ring—that brushed my outer pussy lips, but it was electrifying. Apparently for us both because he gasped and jerked back.

"Tell me, Holly." His eyes slid down then back up my naked and bound body. The sound of his breath catching made my heart thump harder against my chest. His eyes locked with mine, and his Adam's apple bobbed as though in slow motion. "This man you love? Does he love you like I love you?"

Every bit of my resolve shattered at that look...those words.

My voice cracked when I managed to finally speak. "He's you, Chris. Only you."

"Good." His cock pressed against my pussy. "And there's only you for me."

I choked back a cry. "You doubted my loyalty?"

"Never, honey. It's just such a fucking turn-on to see you react when I push your buttons." As if to emphasize his comment, he pressed a little harder, the tip of his cock nudging at my entrance now.

I whimpered and wiggled to no avail.

He leaned down and kissed the top of one breast then licked at my nipple. "Is this what you've been wanting, Holly?"

"Please, please, please...Chris, may I come?" I mumbled at his neck before his lips covered mine.

"I thought you'd never ask." He thrust hard, making me scream.

In just a couple of strokes, I was shaking beneath him. He continued pounding. Nuzzling my neck, his chest smashed to my chest. One hand fisted in my hair while the other massaged my breast, his thumb going to work on soothing my nipple. And then he was coming inside me while I had another orgasm.

It was everything I'd hoped it would be and more.

###

=== ONE MONTH LATER ===

"Are you sure? It's your favorite meal. I can do all the work."

I pulled my knees as close to my chest as I could and choked back a sob. "I can't eat anything!"

"Shh." Chris brushed my hair off my forehead. "Don't cry."

"You'd cry, too, if it was Christmas and you were missing out on a turkey dinner the way you'd always had it. For the second time!" I let loose of the tears now, wetting the pillow.

He rubbed my back. "Honey, it's not that bad. Maybe you'll feel better by Christmas Eve. It's still two days away."

His words...his touch. They didn't help this time. I was just...miserable.

I pulled the blanket tighter to my chin, croaking out, "Please, just leave me alone."

Chris laughed, and I wished I had the strength to throw something at him. "Geesh, Holly. You're not the first person to catch a cold at Christmas. And they say us men are bad when we're sick!"

The bed shifted. After a couple of heavy footfalls, the door clicked shut, sealing off the stream of light from the hallway.

I lay there in the darkness, hugging the blanket I'd bunched up at my stomach tighter. But that only brought more tears.

Yes, I had a confirmed good-ole case of the winter cold that just would not go away. I'd started sniffling and coughing almost two weeks ago after my thirtieth birthday celebration (which had consisted of just the two of us, a bottle of chocolate sauce, a container of whipped topping, my little toy box, and the kitchen island). But there was more to my current demeanor. More that Chris didn't know about.

My trip to the doctor three days ago had been two-fold: I'd wanted to check out the consistent rasp in my breathing; and I was scheduled to have my first ultrasound. Except that the technician couldn't find a heartbeat. I'd gone back today to get the second blood test to check my hCG levels. After the doctor gave me the news that I'd miscarried, I'd sat in my car for a good thirty minutes staring out at the parking lot but not paying attention to the people and other cars moving about. I'd wanted my mom more than anything at that moment.

Chris had come home from work to find me in bed. I hadn't had the heart to tell him yet. He didn't even know I'd been pregnant. I'd planned to wrap up the ultrasound image for one of his presents.

I tried to rationalize now that maybe this was a good thing that I'd lost the baby. Yes, I'd gotten one of the fulltime promotions at work, which included teaching aerobics twice a week in addition to my front desk and bookkeeping duties. It more than helped supplement Jolie's previous rent. Not to mention, it offered insurance. As a result, I'd planned on using Dirk's donation for baby things.

But that was only half of the equation.

Maybe Chris didn't want to be a dad. We hadn't exactly had this discussion yet, so I didn't know his thoughts on it. Then there was the fact that he was strapped for funds with starting school again in January. The benevolence of Professor Bradley only covered tuition. He still needed a roof over his head and food in his belly. I said he didn't have to contribute toward rent while he was getting his degree, but he insisted that he couldn't live with me for free. We compromised that he'd pay the utilities. At least he was able to get rid of his apartment. Will had passed his GED the first week of December. When we'd talked to him about the plans for the living situation and Chris said his lease was up at the end of the year, Will had insisted on moving out. Since then, he'd talked to his parents and arranged to stay in a room above their garage.

The timing about the baby was both right and wrong. Awkward. I wanted to be glad that fate had stepped in. Yet all those truths didn't make it hurt any less that I wasn't going to be a mom.

When I'd found out I was expecting, I couldn't wait to tell Chris. But the doctor had advised against getting too excited until after the first ultrasound. It had been nothing short of torture keeping the news to myself. Turns out, I'd already been three weeks pregnant when I'd kicked Jolie out and Chris and I had broken in my new couch. I'd conceived right around Halloween. After that office visit, I'd thought it fitting to have something good to remember the holiday for instead of messing up with Dirk. With today's confirming test results, that was no longer true.

Life kept dealing me blows. This one had knocked me flat on my back, and I couldn't find the strength to get back up again.

I fell asleep with tears drying on my face and my heart feeling crushed.

The next morning, I found cans of chicken noodle soup and clear juice stocked in the kitchen; tissues and pain relievers in the bathroom; and bedding folded on the ottoman. But there was no sign of Chris.

I moped around the house, thankful that my new schedule did not include weekends. When I wasn't doped up on cold medicine and dead to the world, I curled up in the living room mindlessly watching TV or laid in bed despite not actually sleeping. It was the latter when I heard the front door open and close and could see the hallway light turn on under my closed door.

The sound of the shower running came through the wall. I imagined Chris in there, naked. The thought made me whimper. I longed for him to hold me. But at the same time, I felt ashamed that I couldn't find the heart to tell him the truth. I was still awake an hour later when the light went off. When the apartment went back to its silent watch for the night.

It was the same routine on Sunday. Chris was gone by morning, his bedding neatly folded on the ottoman. Where he'd gone, I had no clue. He hadn't left a note either day. I wondered if he was mad at me, though I could swear he had sat beside me on the bed at least twice, stroking my forehead and hair. Whispering he loved me. But I could have been dreaming both times. I'd done a lot of that this weekend.

That night was a repeat of the last. I lie there in the dark and silence, grateful that the gym was closed on Monday and Tuesday for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I planned to just sleep through the holiday and continue my ritual pity party. Maybe I could call in sick on Wednesday and take the rest of the fucking week off. Go back to work next year.

Apparently, Chris had other plans.

###

It was déjà vu waking to the smell of turkey. The sounds of Christmas music. I thought I was dreaming again, just like last year. That had turned out to be real. What were the chances?

Crawling out of bed, I cracked the door open. Chris was singing 'Jingle Bell Rock' in the kitchen. I quietly secured the door and leaned my back against it, sighing and shaking my head.

He'd done it again. Was he like the Grinch's cousin? Bringing Christmas every year instead of stealing it?

When I turned on the light, I noticed tissues littered the floor around the garbage can. Clothes were overflowing the hamper since I usually did laundry on the weekends. And then there was my reflection in the mirror. Blotchy skin, hair that looked like I'd been sleeping in a bush not on my bed, and my nose was so red, I was surprised it wasn't signaling Santa. I could imagine my breath would be similar to having eaten an onion. Maybe I could clean up a bit and look presentable despite not wanting to celebrate anything at all today.

I managed to slip out of my room and into the bath without making a sound. Brushing my teeth made a vast improvement. The hot streams of the shower head felt amazing, too. Especially when I washed my hair. Yes, maybe this was all I needed to feel better. But I soon found myself squatting in the tub. Crying with my arms wrapped around my legs. Unsure what thought of hundreds spiraling in my head like the water going down the drain had set me off.

The water had already been running cold for a minute or two when the shower curtain was slowly pulled back. Then it rattled on the rings and rod above as it was yanked the rest of the way open.

"Holly!" Chris turned off the water and climbed into the tub, too, gathering me in a towel. "Whatever has come over you?"

I was too numb to do anything but shiver, my teeth chattering.

He carried me to my room. Pulled a sweatshirt and sweatpants on me. Sat behind me on the bed and carefully combed out my hair. I was half asleep from the latter by the time he cuddled with me under the covers, his body folded behind mine and the blankets tucked all around us. Each time I started coughing and sniffling, he hushed me. Rocked me. Kissed my damp hair.

At some point, I got turned around and snuggled closer to him. I gripped his arm, trembling despite no longer being cold and wet.

He tipped my chin up. "Holly, honey. What's going on? This can't all be because you got sick."

I started to close my eyes and tuck my head against his chest.

"Don't you dare." His grip tightened on my chin until I lifted my gaze to him. "Look at me. Tell me what this all about. I'm here for you, remember? No matter what it is. I swear—"

"I had a miscarriage." The words just kind of fell out. I had contemplated for the last three days how I would tell him...if I ever did. It definitely hadn't been like this in my head. Then again, hardly anything with him went the way I expected it to. My sigh made my chest shudder, and my throat was raw from coughing and crying. Still, I tried to explain. "I was going to surprise you tomorrow with the good news. But it was confirmed Friday... I didn't know how to tell you. Any of it. Chris, it's breaking my heart!"

He just blinked, the lamp behind me illuminating his face. He was the one to look away now. After a deep sigh, he was staring in my eyes again. Then he was rolling me onto my back. Climbing on top of me, his hands in my hair. His lips gently brushed mine. Over and over again.

My knees fell open, and he nestled closer. I mumbled between his kisses, "I'm so sorry. I know we hadn't planned it. I—"

"Oh, Holly." He pulled back and shook his head. The back of his fingers caressed my forehead and face, his eyes shiny now. "We would have found a way."

I wrapped my fingers around his hand on my cheek, squeezing tightly. "I was so scared."

He twisted his hand, grasped my fingers, and brought them to his lips. "Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything. Please. Good news, bad news, whatever."

I nodded and managed to smile up at him, the first time I'd done so in probably a week.

"Sit tight."

I sat up as he leapt off the bed, pulled the door open, and sprinted down the hallway.

Chris was back in another minute, sitting on the edge of the bed at my feet. He pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a small, rectangular, black box.

I carefully lifted the lid, gasping. Inside was a delicate gold chain with a shimmering charm dangling from it: two green leaves of holly and two red berries.

He took the box from me and held it in his palm. "This was supposed to be for tomorrow, but I have a feeling it'll help today. You need a constant reminder that we will handle anything that comes our way...together."

I was paying so much attention to the charm I didn't notice right away that there was something attached inside the lid. That Chris had gotten down on the floor...on one knee. I kept looking from him to the box and back again.

Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!

My hand shook when I reached out and touched the gold ring with the small teardrop-shaped diamond that kept sparkling because his hand was shaking. "Please don't do this because I was pregnant. Or Jolie got engaged. Or—"

"All that is only coincidence, honey. The necklace was a last minute gift I saw yesterday. I hadn't had the chance to wrap it yet. But I have the receipt that shows I bought the ring six months ago. Ask your dad. We agreed that Christmas was the perfect time. A year from when I met you. Knew you were the one. Do you know how hard it's been trying not to spill my secret?"

My eyes swung up to his again, my hands hovering between my lap and my face, unsure what I should do with them. "You talked to my dad? When?"

The corner of his mouth lifted up. "Remember that day in June when we were working on the busted pipe in their bathroom sink?"

I nodded. "My mom kept wanting to go through some old boxes, but I wanted to help you. I couldn't understand why she was so insistent on doing that right then. Later, I just assumed she wanted to organize before leaving for the winter. She was distracting me, though, wasn't she?"

His single dimple popped out as he grinned widely. "Holly McGregor, will you marry me and be my Mrs. Holly Berry for the rest of my life?"

I sniffed back a tear, and my eyes widened. Of all the things I thought I'd say if he proposed, I probably surprised both of us when I blurted, "The turkey!"

Chris chuckled, grappling at me as I tried to climb off the bed. "Whoa! It had an hour to go when I grabbed the ring. Plus, I set a timer. It's all good."

I flopped back on the bed with a deep sigh. "Thank God, you're in charge."

"Always, honey." He stared down at me, one hand scrubbing his mouth and chin. "So, is that a yes? Will you marry me?"

I was going to tease him and say I'd think about it. Make some quip about popping the question at Christmas being so passé. I had a reputation as a naughty girl to uphold, didn't I? But I realized I'd put him through a hell of a lot in the past few days. And this was most likely not the end of my mood swings from our loss, either. Besides, the bubbles of joy building up inside and the tears in my eyes were going to make it difficult to hide my true emotions much longer.

Reaching up, I slid one hand behind his neck, drawing him to me. When our lips were only an inch apart, I murmured, "Yes. I'm yours forever, Chris Berry."

"Mmm. Good." He kissed me softly. When we parted, he placed the ring on my finger and laid down beside me, tucking our clasped hands to his chest. His eyes were shiny when he whispered, "You know, even naughty boys and girls can be great parents. I'd be happy to try again when you're ready."

I smiled warmly and snuggled up to him. "That sounds very...nice."

~H