A Baumgartner Christmas (5 page)

He
pressed her toward the bedroom, turning on the light, never taking his fingers
out of her wet pussy. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen the way she looks at
you?”

“No…”
She let him push her back onto the bed, shoving her dress up over her hips, his
fingers pistoning in and out of her, the hot squelch of her pussy filling the
room. “How does she look at me?”

“Like
she wants to eat you up.” He knelt at the side of the bed, spreading her legs
and rubbing his cheek over her soft, swollen pussy lips. “Like she worships
you. Like she’s starving for you.”

“Really?”
She thrilled at the thought, wondering if it was true. Did Daphne want her as
much as she wanted Daphne? Because she did, in her secret heart—she knew there
was nothing she wanted more than to be with her best friend. She’d probably
wanted her from the beginning, but hadn’t been willing to admit it.

“She
wants you almost as much as I want you.” He sucked her labia into his mouth,
teasing her, not going near her clit. His tongue made sweet inroads through the
wet, pink folds of her flesh, growing nearer but taking his time. “I’d love to
watch you lick her. See her climb up on top of you and sit on your face.”

She
moaned, feeling his tongue nudge her clit on the way by. “God. She’s got such a
hot little body. Those gorgeous tits.”

“Mmmm.”
He flicked his tongue against her clit for a moment, a brief flutter, before
heading downward again. “I bet she’s got little cherries for nipples.”

It
was driving her crazy just thinking about it. “Oh yes, yes,” she whispered,
grabbing his hair, guiding him back up to her clit. It was throbbing. “Lick me,
baby.”

“Just
like Daphne would?” He stabbed his tongue at her, making it hard, a blissful
assault. “Show her what you like, baby. Make her lick your cunt.”

She
grabbed his ears and shoved her hips up, moaning loudly as she began to grind
her hips in circles. She was imagining it—her hands wrapped up in her friend’s long,
red hair, Daphne’s tongue mashed against Carrie’s wet pussy, their breath hot,
nipples hard,  pussies soaking wet. Carrie imagined Daphne sitting on her face,
the soft grind of her hips, the taste of pussy, oh god, that taste in her
mouth, down her throat…

“Make
me come, Daphne!” she cried, bucking up against the lash of Doc’s tongue, all
the while imagining her friend’s mouth against her clit. “Oh fuck, make me come
for you!”

Her
orgasm hit like a bolt of lightning, the convulsions little shockwaves, her
pussy clamping down against the thrust of his fingers again and again. She rode
her climax off the edge of the bed, shivering and collapsing onto the floor
next to her husband, letting him enfold her, kiss her, caress her, as she came
back to reality.

“Such
a good girl.” He kissed her cheek, her chin, getting up and lifting her onto
the bed. “Why do you always deny yourself? You can have everything you want.”

She
closed her eyes, shook her head, but he was kissing her open, his tongue
probing, his cock hard against her hip. Somewhere along the way, his trousers
had come off.

“You
can’t have everything,” she murmured, letting him lift her dress over her head.
“No one can have everything.”

“You
can,” he assured her, taking her nipple into his mouth. The feeling sent heated
waves of pleasure all through her body. “I’d give you anything. You know I
would.”

She
worked the buttons on his shirt—his suit coat and tie had disappeared too, lost
somewhere on the floor with his pants and boxers, she imagined—spreading it
open so she could run her hands over his chest. He was so nicely built, and the
fact that he took advantage of the gym at the hospital whenever he got a break—to
relax, he said—didn’t hurt.

That
made her remember what Daphne said about already finding the best husband in
the world. The fact was, she had. But he was perfect for her, not for everyone
else. And did she really want to share him?

“You
could make it happen, you know.” He peeled his shirt off and moved to her other
nipple, tracing lazy circles.

She
let her fingers glide through his dark curls. “You mean… me and Daphne?”

“You
and Daphne,” he agreed, nipping at her, making her squeak in high-pitched surprise.
“You, me and Daphne. Whatever you wanted.”

She
looked at him thoughtfully. “What if I don’t want it?”

“I
think you do.” He reminded her by spreading her legs and sliding his cock
against her soaked cleft, her cum still wetting her thighs where she’d been
imagining her best friend getting her off just moments before.

“It’s
a nice fantasy, I admit.” She smiled, feeling his cock swelling, the head of it
pressed against her opening. “But reality might be disappointing. Look what
happened with Maureen.”

He
shifted his hips and slid inside her. “We had a good time until she decided to
get religion.”

“She
made a commitment to her husband, remember?” She wrapped her legs and arms
around him, going for an easy, gentle ride as he began to move.

“But
if her husband had said, hey, it’s okay if you and your girlfriend play around,
what then?” he asked, his breathing coming faster in her ear.

“The
real world doesn’t work that way.”

He
poised himself above her, his eyes searching hers. “We get to define the real
world. Our world. Any way we want.”

“I’m
just scared of what might happen,” she confessed, rocking up against his cock.

“Then
we don’t have to do anything.” He kissed the tip of her nose, beginning to fuck
her again. “We can just fantasize about it. Which is almost as much fun.”

She
smiled, closing her eyes. “Almost.”

“Where
do you want her?” He pushed her legs back, kneeling up between them. “How about
down here, licking your little clit?”

“I
want her straddling my face.” Carrie threw her arms over her head, giving into
the fantasy, no longer as threatened by the possible dangers of reality. “I
want to wrap my arms around her hips and bury my face in her wet little pussy.”

“Mmmm
that’s my girl.” He moved faster, driving his cock in to the hilt. “I’d love to
watch you eat her out.”

“And
you could kiss her,” she offered, opening her eyes to look at him, imagining it
all—her friend’s hips rocking on her face, Doc’s hands on Daphne’s big breasts,
thumbing her nipples, sucking her tongue into his mouth. “And touch her and
play…”

“Oh
god.” He groaned, just as into the fantasy as she was. “I want to suck those
gorgeous tits.”

“After
I made her come all over my face…” She smiled at her husband’s expression. Just
the thought of Daphne’s climax had him going. “She could put her pussy down by
mine,” she suggested, her fingers moving to her clit, the ache there growing
unbearable again. “Lay on top of me, so you could play with her tits while you
fucked me…”

“Yeah,
oh yeah!” His hand found her breast, squeezing hard, his cock making wet noises
in her pussy as he fucked her.

“And
then you could fuck her too,” she whispered, her fingers brushing the base of
his cock as he plunged deep inside. “Her, then me, then her… which one of us
feels better?”

He
groaned, shaking his head, already torn at the thought of making such an
impossible decision.

“I
want you to come all over us, Doc,” she insisted, her pussy blooming with
pleasure. “Come all over our hot... pink… wet... cunts.”

He
gave up, growling and reaching down to grab his cock, tearing it out of her and
pumping it in his fist against her frantically rubbing fingers.

“Yeah!
Yeah! Oh fuck yeah!” He gritted his teeth and thrust one last time, cum
exploding from his cock, all over her clit. She came the instant she felt the
first fiery blast, felt it flooding her pussy, dripping down her crevice. Her
climax shook them both, her thighs quivering as she came, her hips bucking up
to catch more of his cum, the second eruption rising over her belly, splashing
her navel.

She
smiled dreamily, reaching down and running a finger through his cum, then
lifting it to her mouth, sucking it off. He watched her with dark, lustful
eyes.

“If
that was Daphne’s belly, I’d get down and lick her all clean,” she informed
him, smiling as he collapsed next to her on the bed with a tortured moan.

“Enough,
I can’t take anymore.” He threw a leg over hers and pulled her close. “You’re
killing me.”

She
knew just what he wanted, what he liked. And he wanted Daphne—maybe more than
she did. Maybe. But she knew better than to open Pandora’s box. The fantasy was
good.

Just
as good.

Almost
as good.

That
was enough.

Wasn’t
it?

* * * *

“Hewwo?” Carrie’s tongue felt too
big for her mouth as she grabbed for and answered the phone, head throbbing.
She closed her eyes against the brightness of the sun slanting through the
blinds, turning toward the wall and taking the phone with her.

“Carrie? Is that you?”

She tried to gather saliva in her
mouth so she could speak more clearly. “Hi Nan.”

It was her mother-in-law.

Of course it was.

“Are you sick, dear?”

Ah, the perfect excuse. “Just a
little bug.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I
thought noon would be late enough to call.”

“It’s fine, I was just napping.”
Sleeping like the dead was more like it, but why quibble?

Doc snored beside her and she
nudged him, shushing his groan as he opened his eyes.

“Your mother,” she mouthed.

“I was just calling about
Christmas,” Nan went on.

“Mmm-hmm.” It was safer not to
try and use any vowels.

“Chuck and I sent you tickets. I
just want to make sure they don’t get lost in the mail. I overnighted them.”

“Oh.” Carrie rubbed her aching
eyes. They had talked about Key West, but they hadn’t made any decisions.
Apparently, Nan had made the decision for them.

“Is Stephen there?” Nan was the
only one who ever called Doc by his given name. Even his father called him
“Doc.”

“Hold on.” It was far easier to
hand Nan over to her son.

He tried to push the phone away,
but Carrie wouldn’t let him, forcing it to his ear.

“Hi, Mom.” His voice was far
clearer than her own. “What’s up?”

Carrie pulled her pillow over her
head, listening to him “mm-hmm” his mother until the end of the conversation.

“Okay, Mom, sounds good. Love you
too. Bye.” Doc dropped the phone on the bed with a groan and Carrie scrambled
for it, hanging it up before her mother-in-law could listen in on their
conversation. She loved Nan, but she knew better than to share everything with
her. Hangovers didn’t go over too well with parents, even when the children
were technically adults.

“Let me guess.” Carrie shoved her
head back under her pillow. “We’re going to Key West?”

“Don’t you want to go?”

She sighed. “Oh I don’t know…”

“I think it will be good for us.”
Doc’s hand moved over his wife’s lower back, massaging.

She poked her head out, opening
one eye. “Do you?”

“We need a vacation.” He smiled,
sliding his hand over the curve of her behind. “Maybe we can recharge our
batteries.”

“Are yours so weak?” she teased.

“Let’s find out.” He slipped his
hand between her legs, seeking heat.

She scissored her legs closed,
groaning. “Oh god, no, I can’t even think about it. My head is swimming.”

Doc chuckled. “You can thank the
tequila.”

“I’m going to stay in bed all
day.” She grabbed for the comforter, curling onto her side and settling in.

“Can’t,” Doc said regretfully.
“We promised Wilson we would go get a tattoo with him today, remember?”

“Today!” She covered her eyes
with her hand, shaking her head, which was a mistake, because her brain rattled
around inside her skull, sending sharp pains down her neck.

He laughed, getting out of bed.
“Well I didn’t know you were going to be hung over, or I’d have rescheduled.”

“Oh god, Doc, I can’t possibly.”
She peeked out at him, pleading.

“I’ll make you my hangover
special.” He sat next to her on the edge and kissed her cheek.

“It will make me puke.”

“Yep.” He grinned. “You’ll either
puke or be cured. Either way, you’ll feel better.”

Chapter Three

“Chicken.” Doc poked Carrie in
the ribs but she shook her head stubbornly, crossing her arms and watching as
Wilson’s left bicep bloomed with blood and ink. The image was taking form, a
serpent wrapping around his arm, over his shoulder, and across his back. He’d
had work done on it before and this was the final visit.