An Underestimated Christmas (Underestimated 3) Page 13

  Solomon took us back to his place a different route than when we’d gone to Paul’s.

  “Whoa,” I called from behind him. “What is this place, Sole?”

  “This is Riverton’s,” he explained, killing the engine. “It used to be a horse farm. John Riverton, one of the grandsons has turned it into a day camp for children with autism.”

  “Why?” I asked, getting off the snow mobile and looking in the windows of the most amazing barn transformation I’d ever seen.

  “He wants to help,” Sole said with a shrug like it was no big deal. I started to ask why again, but stopped when the door opened, startling us both.

  “Come in, Sole. It’s freezing out there,” a tall man called from a side door.

  Sole and I stepped inside. I shook his hand and wondered around the massive arena in awe.

  “Go ahead, look around,” the guy who introduced himself as John offered. I nodded and checked out the facility. It was still set up like a barn. The stalls were bigger with paintings of colorful animals. Each stall had its own purpose. There was a red gate for reading, a blue stall for music, a green stall for arts and crafts, a yellow stall for snacks, and an orange stall for relaxing. The middle where horses once put on a show was now black top with a basketball court, bicycles, toys, and even a bridge with a giant slide.

  “You run this place? I don’t understand. You’re in the middle of nowhere. How can you stay open here? I mean, you can’t have much business.”

  “Actually, we’d be even busier. The state shut us down three months back,” John said unemotionally.

  “Why?”

  “It’s an old barn. A lot of things need fixed yet. I want to build another loft on this side of the barn and run a bridge from one side to the other. I want to line the wall here with stalls for different development stages. I can’t have a unisex bathroom, and I have to have a working kitchen. I can still run workshops here for parents, I just can’t do the all day camps with the kids anymore.”

  “John doesn’t have the money to finish it all at once, but we all come over and pick up a hammer or a paint brush on Friday nights. It’s our guy time. A few beers and few laughs later, we get a little more done. We’ll get it,” Sole explained.

  “I guess I’m a little confused. Of all things, why, I mean why that?” I asked unable to say the word.

  “We help the kids learn ways to express emotions they don’t feel and we teach them how to read other people’s expressions to know what is an appropriate and un-appropriate response.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked the same question.

  “Do you know someone with autism?” John asked.

  “My son,” I replied defeated, dropping my head. “He has Asperger’s syndrome. He’s five and this is all new to us.”

  John smiled a big broad smile. “You say that like your son is going to die. You weren’t handed a death sentence with that diagnosis.”

  “Pretty much. I mean, how can I teach him to be a man when he doesn’t feel the same way I do?” Why the fuck was I telling this complete stranger everything that I wouldn’t talk to my wife about? All my worries and fears manifested over an entire hour with John.

  “Sit down, Drew,” John offered with an open hand to the child’s blue chair. I sat with my knees to my chest in the short, but sturdy chair. “Tell me, what it is that you call success?” he beckoned.

  “I don’t know. Me. I’m a businessman. I’m afraid I won’t be able to teach my son that.”

  “Ahhh, so you want him to be like you?”

  “Not necessarily, I want him to be independent and be able to have everything that every other man has. I want him to marry and have his own family.”

  “And you think he’s not capable of this? Why do you think that?”

  “I don’t know. Isn’t that what usually happens to people like that? I mean, I’m perfectly fine with him living with us forever. But someday we’re going to be gone. I want him to be able to look after himself.”

  “People like us can go to college, get married, have a family, and create a business like this that helps people like you understand people like us,” he said in that same dry tone with absolutely no emotion.

  “People like you? What do you mean?” Damn. I sure was using that a lot.

  “John has one of the prettiest wives in Center Station. And the cutesiest little twin boys you’ve ever seen in your life,” Sole offered.

  My eyes were wide while I waited for John to retrieve his wallet and show me his family. “Your son has what I have. I mean, I don’t know the severity of his, but I, too, was diagnosed as having Asperger’s when I was a teenager. I’m just like you, Drew. I feel things, I just don’t know how to show it the way you do, and I sometimes need help in knowing other people’s emotions, mainly my wife’s,” he joked.

  “I can’t read my wife, so you’re good there,” I offered, joking back. The air had grown thicker and too serious.

  “Yes, but when your wife says eat me, I’m sure you don’t take a bite out of her arm.”

  “Huh?”

  John and Sole both laughed at me. I turned and looked up to Sole a little confused. Was he making a sex joke?

  “Some of us tend to take things literally. Like we don’t know you’re joking. What’s your son’s name?”

  “Nicholas.”

  “Have you ever told Nicholas something that you didn’t mean, but he took it literally and did it? Like if you’re joking about something he said.”

  “Hmmm, no. Like what?”

  “Like, get out of here? Have you ever said anything like that and he’s gotten up to leave the room?” I nodded, remembering just the other day when I told him to hit the bed. He looked at me funny and then punched the bed. “That’s because Nicholas doesn’t have the receptors to tell him you were only joking. That’s what I do. I’ll help you help him.”

  “Where do you live? I am having a Christmas workshop here. You could come then. I would love to have you, but I’m sure your wife has family tradition plans for your holiday.”

  “No, I mean. She’ll probably make a turkey for Thanksgiving, and plan a vacation or something for Christmas.”

  “You don’t celebrate Christmas?” John asked.

  “Oh, no. We do, we just usually do it somewhere else.”

  “You’re not home for Christmas?” Sole was the one to ask. Why was that so shocking? Lots of people traveled over the holidays.

  “Sometimes, the house keeper normally puts up a tree and we buy the boys gifts,” I explained not wanting them to think I was some sort of scrooge that didn’t do Christmas. We did Christmas. I could have sworn the two of them exchanged a smirk.

  “What about other family? You don’t celebrate with them?”

  “We have her mom and step dad. Morgan has a little sister. We have dinner with them and exchange gifts, but usually not until after the first. When we get back,” I added, reminding them we didn’t usually stay home for the holidays and if we did it was usually with other guests who traveled to the bed and breakfast for Christmas. Nothing special.

  “What do you do for a living, Drew?” John asked.

  “I own a jewelry store in California, well, I did. I just sold it. I was on my way to New York to buy another one when I got stranded here.”

  “So you’re between jobs?”

  “Sort of, yeah, I guess.”

  “So come here. Come here for the holidays and spend Christmas in Center Station with your family.”

  I snorted on that note. “Morgan hates the cold and snow. She would never agree to it, but I would love to set up something for a couple weeks after the first of the year. Do you have any workshops going on then?”

  “What if she said yes? Come here with your family and I will give you two weeks free for your little guy.”

  “It’s not about the money. Morgan really does hate the cold and snow.”

  “But you could persuade her, right?” Sole asked.

  “Maybe, but
I don’t know.”

  John and I exchanged numbers and had another long conversation about his plans for the barn over coffee the following morning. To say I was intrigued with this small town, these nice country people, and the dream of a man living a life just like me with Asperger’s would be an understatement. I was in awe.

  I literally stood outside the door, waiting for Drew to pull in the drive way. I didn’t know whether to be mad at him or hug him when I saw him. He missed the sort of planned birthday party, and he didn’t get to see Christina and Vincent before they left. Three days. Drew was out of range for three whole days.

  My thoughts of whether to kill him or love him were squashed as soon as he got out of his car and grabbed me in a bear hug. Our lips met and I squealed when he pinched my ass.

  “Where are my boys?”

  “Sleeping, and you’re not waking them up. You can see them in the morning. What are you wearing?”

  “Oh yes I am, and it’s a turkey. Sole’s little girl, Amanda, made it for me at church yesterday.”

  “Oh,” I said a little taken aback, looking at the homemade turkey pinned to Drew’s shirt.

  “I’m going to see the boys,” Drew said, walking away from me.

  “Drew, no. Please don’t wake them.” I pouted. I wanted Daddy. They could have him tomorrow. Drew knew exactly what I was doing with the way my hungry eyes begged him to let them sleep.

  Taking a step back to me, Drew kissed me passionately on the mouth, shoving his tongue deep in my mouth. I moaned when I felt his lips on my neck and then my chest. His hands went up my shirt and his fingers went straight to my braless nipples. I arched my back, trying to make them stand to the perky girls they used to be before two kids. It never worked, but Drew didn’t seem to mind. He paid just as much attention to them as he did pre-babies.

  “Let’s go to bed, Drew,” I panted. I hadn’t seen, nor heard from my husband for three days, he barely had one foot in the door and the tension was this high between us. I swear Drew and I connected through sex. I guess that’s because for the first seven years of our marriage, it was the only way we communicated.

  Drew walked me backward, removing my shirt and taking my nipple into his mouth. My mind drifted to that time. The time that I was supposed to leave in the past. The time when Drew used me as his own personal sex slave. It was sick and twisted, but all I had to do to get in the mood was think about it. I didn’t need help at this moment, but it didn’t stop me from thinking about it.

  It was after a meeting with a potential client that came to mind. Drew was uptight about something before we ever got there. I knew before I left that house what kind of night I was in for. I was right. Flashes of me laying on the small hotel room coffee table.

  Drew placed a glass of wine on my tight abs and played with my pussy, daring me to spill it. My hands grasped the sides of the coffee table while I tried to ignore the sensations from Drew. I focused on the full glass of wine and tried like hell to ignore the vibrating dildo Drew was rubbing up and down my pussy.

  “Drew?” I moaned, closing the door over his shoulder.

  “Hmm?” he moaned.

  “Remember that time when you were mad at me in New York? The coffee table?”

  Drew pulled back and looked at me. “Yeah?” he questioned.

  “I want to do that. Do that to me, Drew,” I said in a raspy, panting voice.

  “The wine?”

  “Yes, do that to me.”

  “Are you sure?” he questioned. “You spilled the wine,” I felt Drew grow between us. I think the punishing part completed the fucked up fantasy. Drew was turned on, thinking about it, just as much as I was.

  “Yes, I want you to.”

  The rest of the evening was surreal. Drew turned on the switch I needed to be turned on. The way his dark eyes changed and looked at me with lust and anger shot straight to my throbbing sex.

  “Take your clothes off,” Drew ordered. I barely had any on, but I slid my panties down with my shorts and stood before him like I once had. This is one of those it didn’t happen often kind of things, but in a weird kind of way, we both needed it to once in a while. My heart picked up in speed and I held my breath while Drew circled me. I swallowed and felt the tingle run up my spine when his finger traced my spine, all the way down to my ass. He did that. I remember that he did the exact same thing the night we were in New York.

  Drew reenacted the entire night like a pro, like it had just happened. Once he had me naked across the ottoman in our bedroom, he left me to get the glass of wine. Placing the glass of dark liquid on my stomach, just below my bellybutton, Drew looked up to me. The lust in my eyes answered his. Yes. This was fine. Watching the glass on my not so tight abs, I closed my eyes when I felt him spread my legs.

  “Open your eyes and watch me,” he said in the dark, Drew demanding kind of way.

  He didn’t say that in New York, but holy shit. My pussy was going mad. Why couldn’t I have fantasized about a time I wasn’t trying to keep from spilling…? Hey. Wait a minute. That’s not wine, that’s grape juice.

  Drew kept his eyes between my legs while he walked to the closet. Fuck. He had to get my favorite one. The four white pearls didn’t go unnoticed in the other hand, either. Drew got on his knees below me, just like he had that night and meticulously worked. I don’t remember if this was exactly what he did, but I was regretting my make-believe request. This wasn’t make-believe and I was going to have to clean the rug. What was I thinking?

  “Hmmm,” I hummed when I felt the vibration lightly touch my clit and then it stopped. No…

  I felt the hiss when Drew moved to my side and licked my bottom lip. “Shhhhh,” His eyes shifted to the shaky glass of fake ass wine and his teeth pulled on my erect nipple. Placing a soft kiss on my lips, mine trembled with his hot words.

  “Keep watching what I do, and no noises,” he ordered, just like he would have back then. I nodded feeling the chemistry we shared even then. It was explosive. With Drew placed back between my legs, he touched me again with the vibrations. I moaned. Dammit. I moaned. Drew stopped and came to my lips again, only this time he was standing and his cock was in his hand.

  Drew straddled my face and tapped my lips a couple times with the head of his cock. “You having a hard time following instructions tonight, bad girl? Huh?” Drew asked, pushing his head across my lips, from one side, to the other. I shook my head, feeling the adrenaline rush through my veins just like I did that night. An urgency that neither of us could deny we were addicted to. The only difference being, we only used it recreational now, not every day.

  “Stick out your tongue.”

  I obeyed and watch Drew pump himself in his fist, producing a clear bead to head on his slit. “Lick it off,” he ordered in a whisper. Gladly.

  I licked the small slit, instantly tasting the pre-come. I wanted to beg Drew to get the glass after he slid to the back of my throat. I couldn’t gag and keep the glass from spilling at the same time. Drew stopped before my gag reflexes kicked in. After a few moments of his cock going in and out of my mouth, he moved back to the vibrator. I bit my bottom lip to keep from making a sound.

  My eyelids fluttered while Drew ran the hard device up and down my pussy, paying careful attention to my clitoris, but not too much. He was going to prolong it as long as he could. Drew inserted the vibrating toy, sliding it in and out before leaving it there. My eyes stayed on him and I watched, knowing what was next. He pushed the vibrator in again and moved to my ass. I felt the first small bead slide into my ass, and then the next. Drew pushed the vibrator in again and I felt the next bead. He slid the vibrator out and placed the tip of it on my clit before popping the final bead in my ass.

  “Drew, I’ll come,” I warned, already feeling it.

  Drew grinned and pulled the string. “Aahh,” I moaned, hoping he didn’t stop. He stopped his motion but not what he was doing. His hands steady for a second before he pushed the bead back inside. As soon as he started circling m
y clit again, he tugged on the bead. I moaned again. The next time Drew pulled it out he pulled two, and again, he stopped. I had to stop moaning.

  The next time was inevitable. I kept the sounds at bay but the orgasm was still there. My stomach bounced at the first sign. Drew circled my clit, fast and hard while he watched my face, knowing his accomplishment. I felt the four beads slide out and I sat up, grabbing the wine glass while I came. Although I saved the majority of it, enough splashed over the brim and ran between my legs. That intensified it even more. Drew slurped it up with his mouth and I squeezed his head between my legs and yanked on his hair with my free hand.

  Drew grabbed the wine juice and set it on the stand. My legs were shoved above my head and his dick was in my pussy in a matter of seconds. He held my legs up while he bent his knees and fucked me. The next time he straddled my face, he took no mercy and I gaged several times while he fucked my mouth.

  I could tell how worked up Drew was when he pulled out and lifted my legs again. At first, he just kept me spread and spanked my pussy, and then moved to my ass. Holy shit. I wanted to come again. “Didn’t I tell you not to come?” Drew asked, swatting my ass.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what, Morgan?” Drew asked, grabbing a fistful of my hair. For one second I was scared, but quickly decided I was too turned on to be scared.

  “Yes, Drew,” I corrected.

  Drew smiled and sat on the loveseat. “Come here,” he ordered me to his lap with his eyes. My pussy pulsated, sliding across his lap. The first slap was quite intense, but it was Drew’s other hand that had me concerned. My eyes watched as his fingers pulled the belt from hanging across the sofa.

  I knew he was struggling by the way he gripped it. “Use it, Drew,” I rasped, twisting my hips, trying to make contact with Drew’s leg. He didn’t speak. He picked the belt up and ran the tip of it across my ass and then up my crack. Both his hands focused on my ass. One spread my cheeks and slapped them, and the other one ran the belt over my bottom.

  “Morgan,” Drew pleaded.

  “It’s okay, Drew. I want you to.”