Chapter 25

Jo

The attention on Jakob and me eventually dies down, and I fall back into my comforting rhythm.

That is to say, my new comforting rhythm. I wake up in the morning, and I no longer have to wish for wild morning sex.

I go to work and spend mostly-easy days filling grocery orders during this slow season. At lunch, Jakob usually appears with a packed lunch that we share in my office. We talk about everything — the eventual children we may have, what sort of schooling is available in the village, how we both want to start our own holiday traditions that neither of us grew up with.

Jakob spends his afternoons doing simple home repairs around the village. Word eventually spreads that he's handy, and some of the local property owners hire him to do maintenance on vacation cottages around the lake. Although I have enough savings to last us a while, and I want Jakob to focus on his art, I appreciate having a handy man around the house.

In the evenings, Jakob returns to walk me home, and we share dinner, tend to the chickens, and share housework. Though he always does more than his share, including fixing up whatever needs fixing, chopping wood, and always keeping the fireplace burning bright on cold nights.

One evening, as we're sitting by the fireplace after dinner, he mentions, "I miss my studio."

I knew this would happen eventually.

This village is not enough.

After a thoughtful pause, I offer, "Do we need to discuss moving to the city?"

It pains me to say it, but this is marriage. Isn't it? We compromise.

Jakob looks as me as if I suggested moving to Mars. "Hell no. You love it here, and so do I."

"But you just said, out of nowhere, that you miss your studio. And I'm glad you brought it up, because I worry that you're not focusing on your art."

"I shouldn't have said anything," Jakob says, sipping his tea and shaking his head.

"Yes, you should have," I say, leaning forward. "I'm glad you did. I'm so happy that you love my little village and you enjoy helping people. But you also need to feed that part of you that wants to create."

"Jo. We're not moving back to the city, and that's that."

His firmness tweaks at my senses, and before long, I find myself climbing onto his lap.

"What are you doing, princess?" Jakob laughs as I press soft, slow kisses against his throat.

"Getting an idea," I say.

My sex lights up like a Christmas tree when he sweeps his big, warm hands under the hem of my shirt, warming the skin of my back. He hitches me closer, bracketing my legs around his middle, making sure I can feel his hardness pressing against my core. I love the way he takes control.

"What sort of ideas are running through your head, wife?"

"It's too close to Christmas for me to tell you that," I tease.

His hands travel downward now, pushing past the waistband of my leggings and panties. His thick fingertips sweep over the cleft of my ass. I let out a little moan and move my hips, grinding on him, letting him know I love what he's about to do.

On a groan, he pushes one finger inside. It feels so new and strange, but oh…so good.

"What do you want for Christmas, love?"

I gasp sharply as he sinks that finger in deeper, then say, "You mean, besides having you fuck me while you do that?"

In a flurry of desperation, my leggings and underwear are hiked down and my husband's thick cock is in my greedy hands.

"Wife," he grits out as I impale myself on him, my pussy swallowing him down to the hilt as he strokes his fingers in and out of my tightest hole. "My wife. Now tell me what you really want for Christmas. Anything."

I'm so happily full of him right now I could break down, and yet my head is pinging with ideas — mostly ideas for what I plan to do for Jakob.

"We're going to need a bigger bed," I finally say amid the mind-blowing sensation of his fingers stroking in tandem with my rhythm on his cock.

"Done."

Christmas day comes, and Jakob has somehow managed to surprise me with a king size bed.

He sent Sabine and me away to a bed and breakfast on Christmas Eve for "peace, quiet, and pampering," as he put it. As if our life together isn't already pleasantly peaceful, but I have to admit I enjoyed some one-on-one time with my friend.

Obviously, the overnight stay was a ruse to get me out of the house to have the bed delivered.

This shouldn't surprise me though, should it? Jakob has become rather a fixture around the village, and people are quite fond of him. One of the locals let him use their wood shop and tools to build the bed and keep it a secret. The only surprise is that he built himself.

"But where did you get the lumber? The nearest lumberyard is twenty miles away," I ask, incredulous when he leads me into the bedroom for my surprise on Christmas morning when I arrive home, freshly manicured, pedicured, exfoliated, and massaged.

"It's all fallen wood, gathered within a mile from here." Jakob says this as if it isn't the most work anyone has ever put into a gift for me, ever.

I throw my arms around him and kiss him hard, overcome with emotion. "Nobody has ever done anything like this for me."

Jakob chuckles against my mouth as I grab his face and cover it with kisses. "It's just a bed. You asked for a bed, and I got you a bed."

"I don't always get what I ask for. And here you are, giving me more than what I asked for," I say, feeling my throat clogging with tears.

He brushes the hair out of my eyes. "Come on now. No crying. I want to see the gift you've been hiding from me."

Getting swept up in the moment, I've almost forgotten. I give him a mischievous look and take him by the hand.

"Follow me," I say, headed to the back door.

"It's freezing out there," he laughs. "Are you going to do a cold plunge with me?"

I snort. "Absolutely not."

For several weeks now, my husband has been trying to get me to jump in the lake with him. It's becoming a regular ritual for him. Jakob sometimes disappears in the mornings to do this. He has his quirks, and I let it go because it makes him happy.

I march him toward an old, abandoned tool shed beyond the garden, near the woods, on the opposite end of the property from the chicken house.

"I thought I'd let you repaint it however you want it," I say, unlatching the door.

"A painting project, eh? I love it," he declares.

"Hush," I reply, not knowing if he's joking or being polite.

Opening the door, I switch on the light to reveal the refurbished space inside.

He takes a moment to process what he's seeing.

I wait, so giddy I could crawl out of my skin.

Over time, I've collected a potter's wheel, some secondhand welding equipment, and tools. I spent hours scouring the Internet for what an artist like Jacob might need. "I've been so excited putting this all together for you, it's almost the shame you weren't with me on this little secret journey."

Jakob simply stands there with his mouth open, not saying a word at first. He seems in shock. Does he hate it?

"If it's not right, we can always have your things shipped your studio," I say.

His shoulders relax. "So you didn't have anything shipped from my studio in Arenhammer?"

I shake my head no. I'm starting to wonder if he really does hate it. "I'm sorry. I didn't think…"

"Good," he says.

"Why?" I ask.

"It's better that I don't draw a lot of questions about my whereabouts," he says.

I'm starting to wonder if there's more to his avoidance of the princess and unwanted attention surrounding him saving her life. But I brush that aside for now. It's Christmas, after all.

I wait and watch Jakob move about the space, examining tools and picking up supplies. And then I noticed his hand shaking.

"Are you okay?"

I finally understand in the next moment when he sweeps me up in his arms, his mouth kissing me hard. His intensity always catches me off guard. But why should it? He's my husband, and I know by now how he responds to the slightest amount of kindness. It breaks my heart to know what harshness he has endured. "You are the greatest gift, Josephine. The greatest gift. I love you."

"Love you, too."

We are two of the loneliest people I know, no longer lonely, and that alone makes this the best Christmas ever.