Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
One roll of my tongue thoughtlessly becomes two and two transitions to three and without care or concern for the cold air leaking into our home, I continue to greedily devour my wife like she’s the most delicious treat in the house.
Because she is. Infinitely tastier than the cookies I was munching on a little bit ago.
One hand slides down the front of my slacks covered crotch and cups my swelling shaft, forcing my mouth to fumble off hers on a low groan. “Careful, sweetheart, or we’re gonna give the neighbors much more than that house-sized inflatable Grinch to stare at.”
That shit was a bitch to blow up, but you should see the look on Rainne’s face every time we walk by it.
Jaye giggles and delivers a chaste peck. “How was work?”
“Long.” Relocating the bags to the edge of the stairs happens in the process of my continued answering. “You know how much I hate working on Saturdays.”
“I do. Just like I know it’s holiday season, so you don’t have much of a choice.”
She’s always been fairly understanding about the shit. Even when I was just on the docks, and it meant almost twelve-hour shifts that she brought me lunch or dinner during.
“You got more stuff to bring in?”
Her face grows a playful expression. “Did you really just ask if your book loving wife had more stuff to bring in from the bookstore of all places?”
“Rookie mistake,” I lightly laugh prior to ushering a hand for her to lead the way. Jaye spins around on her boot covered feet and heads back to her SUV with me on her heels. “You finish shopping yet?”
She tosses me a sarcastic glare.
“I thought Crack That was the last stop for gifts.”
“For the girls giving gifts. Yes.” A gust of cold air howls mockingly. “I still have to shop for them and you and my parents. Er…not really my dad. Mainly just my mom. Thankfully, shopping for all our friends is done.”
“It is?”
Our arrival at the end of the vehicle allows Jaye to look at me with a teasing smirk. “Yes. We all agreed to skip the gifts this year and do a kid exchange.”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I like our kids. I think I may even love them now.”
She snickers at the lame joke on a headshake. “Each month – starting in January – one family will have the kids over from the other families for the evening allowing the parents or parent – in a couple cases – to have some time to themselves guilt free and free of charge. The host or hosts will be in charge of food and games or movies or activities at no cost to the other couples. They’ll occur on Saturdays and probably start around four thirty with pick up time being by ten.”
Her ramblings have me quirking an eyebrow.
“I really think this is a brilliant idea and affordable and it gives to the parents as much as the kids. Plus, the kids love hanging out together anyway – even Lenny’s – so really everyone’s winning. There are no losers in this scenario.”
I allow the corner of my lip to kick upward. “We’re first, aren’t we?”
Jaye lets her head fall back on a dramatic sigh. “We are. And it was a totally random drawing!”
More laughter bounces my frame as I grab the remaining bags to bring inside.
“It’ll be fine. We’ve hosted birthday parties. We can host kids’ night a few times. We’re a good team.”
Once she closes the trunk, I flash her a warm grin. “We’re a great fucking team, sweetheart.”
“Does my teammate happen to know what our daughters want for Christmas?”
Our side-by-side strolling is executed deliberately slow to avoid the possibility of being overheard. “You don’t have any clue, either?”
“No,” she whines right above a whisper. “Rainne mentioned wanting this eighty-two-piece art kit, which Mom already bought her for their house, so other than that? No.”
I come to a sudden stop just two steps away from the open front door. “We didn’t get shit out of them at Breakfast with Santa last weekend thanks to Rainne insisting on interrogating Santa rather than asking for something and Henz’s irritational fear of what’s hiding in his big, bushy beard.”
Don’t laugh. It was a long fucking morning.
“What’s our plan for future recon?”
“They’re our kids, baby. We shouldn’t have to have a recon mission for them.”
“We shouldn’t. Yet we do.” The shrug she’s presented is lighthearted. “Suggestions?”
“Take them ‘shopping’ for other people? See what they point out?”
“Could work. Then again, you run the high risk of Rainne putting those pieces together and then exploiting the situation.”
“She is oddly perceptive for her age.”
“I blame your dad.”
“I do too a little bit.”
More snickers slip back and forth between us before I throw out a second idea. “Why don’t we help them write letters to Santa today? Start a new tradition? We were just talking about traditions a couple minutes ago.”