10. Underneath the Christmas tree

TEN

UNDERNEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE

DEREK

F or now, she seems determined to fight me on this point.

“So what’s your endgame? You know about the Eclipse. You know that I don’t have any better reason to get people hooked on that shit besides it making me money. What happens now? You gonna arrest me?”

Never . “If I said ‘yes’? What will you do to change my mind?”

She shrugs.

“You would’ve fucked me to get out of trouble before,” I tell her.

“I just fucked you now,” she reminds me.

“So you did, and you liked it. I knew you would. When I saw you with my gift earlier tonight… don’t deny it, Dove. You like my cock.”

“It’s okay.”

Just okay? For that alone, once I talk her out of being pissed at me, I’m going to make her scream my name so loudly, the real Santa Claus will hear Dove Yarrow keening for her cop all the way at the North fucking Pole.

“And my gift? Was that okay?”

“If that’s what you need to hear, Derek.”

My name again. Shit. I could forgive all the sass in the world if only she calls me by my name.

On the job, I’m either ‘Coleman’ or ‘rook’. Before that, when I bounced, I was ‘D’. In security, I was ‘Coleman’ there, too.

The last time I was someone’s ‘Derek’, it was my mom. God, I want to be Dove’s ‘Derek’ so fucking bad… and after tonight, I’m gonna be.

It’s time she accepts that.

“I have one more for you. And though bad girls deserve coal for Christmas… and you, Dove, were perfectly naughty when you let me pound that pussy of yours… it was also nice enough for Santa to leave a present under your tree for you.”

I know Dove. She thinks I don’t, but I expected her to take the chance to put some distance between us by heading to the living room to see if I really did put a gift beneath the tree already.

Plus, she’s greedy. I don’t mind. Like I said, if I thought I could buy Dove, I would, and if that’s what I have to do…

I’m on her heels. For a split second, I debate grabbing my pants before deciding that if I can’t walk around with my cock out in my future wife’s apartment, where can I? And if she decides to show her appreciation for my gift by falling back, legs spread, begging me to fuck her again… well, this way it’ll be easy enough to oblige.

She’s already on her knees next to the tree, holding the wrapped gift box when I join her. I plop down, trying not to let my fantasies of what it would be like to have Dove on her knees in front of me while sucking my cock get in the way of watching her open her present.

She starts out slowly, but by the time she recognizes the logo on the box, she completely disregards me for a moment as the last of the wrapping paper goes flying.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out. “This can’t be what I think it is, can it?”

Oh. It is.

Even though I opened it already, I kept the box so there’s no denying that I bought Dove a Canon Eos R5 Mark II. It’s the updated model to the camera she already owns, and something she’s looked up countless times after its recent release.

Even with her side hustle, she obviously couldn’t justify the cost of the upgrade when her camera was still in working order—but I could.

Despite that, I’m not even a little surprised when the first words out of her mouth are: “This model is, like, four grand.”

“Little over five,” I admit. “I got you the kit that comes with it for an up-charge. It’s at my place. When you stay over with me, you can have it. Or I can bring it back with me if you’d prefer I’d stay here instead. I’m easy. I’ll stay wherever so long as it’s with you.”

Again, she completely blows past any reference to our future together. I’ll give her grace because this has got to be a lot for her, but that doesn’t change a damn thing.

This woman is mine, and she’s going to see further proof of that in a second.

Before I can tell her to turn the camera on, she meets my gaze. “You’re a cop. You can afford this?” She narrows her eyes on me. “You come from money, Derek?”

I snort. “Fuck, no. My dad was a drunk and my mom stayed at home with me. She couldn’t work.” And by the time she had the chance, she was too sick to get a job so I started supporting us at sixteen. “There was never money in the Coleman house.”

Which is precisely why I was easy pickings for the Devil of Springfield, but since working for him these past few months meant I could afford to have a sex toy made from a cast of my cock and buy this expensive camera for my Dove, that’s fine with me.

My only regret is that my mom didn’t live long enough to know that Dove exists. I’m sure she would have loved her if only because I do.

Dove doesn’t believe me. That sucks, but it is what it is. She’ll learn, and she’s going to get her first lesson now.

“I hope you don’t mind, but before I wrapped it, I tried it out myself.”

“What? You did? Why?”

“You’ll see.” I nod at her. “Go on. Check the card. I saved all my pictures there.”

As she starts going through the functions, figuring out how different her new model is from her old one, she mutters under her breath, “I swear to God, if this is filled with dick pics, I don’t care if you spent five grand or how you had five grand to blow on a camera for a stranger in the first place… I’ll smash it. I swear I will.”

My Dove is getting some of her nerve back. That excites me more than it should. I never want her to be afraid of me. I’ll use my badge and my position against her if I have to, but once she realizes I’m putty in her fucking hand, she’ll be able to control me by my cock.

And I am looking forward to it.

“No dick pics,” I promise, though I have half a mind to point out that she can barely keep her eyes off of my erection as it is. “Now, I’m not the photographer of this couple, and it took me way too long to figure out how to use this sucker when I’m used to my phone, but I hope I did you justice anyway.”

“Me? What do you mean— oh .”

‘Oh’ is probably right. And though they may not be dick pics, I wouldn’t blame Dove for smashing the camera anyway when confronted with the depths of my obsession for her.

Hey. At least she can’t deny it now… not when there are more than five hundred pictures I took of her stored on the memory card.

At first glimpse, it looks like each one could be a copy of the one before it, but there are just enough small details separating them to make it obvious they were all taken at different times. The way her hair spills on the pillow. The different pajamas she was wearing—or not wearing. The blankets changing, and the sheets.

But the one thing that is consistent?

Is the subject.

Her head swivels around, those pretty brown eyes having the same blank look as they did earlier. Part fear, part plotting, part disbelief…

She asked me how long I’ve been sneaking into her apartment. I don’t think she believed me when I admitted it’s been months.

She sure as hell does now.

Just in case, though, I make it very clear as I tell her, “You don’t seem to understand just how fucking serious I am when I tell you that you’ve been mine since the day we met.”

Wordlessly, she scrolls through the pictures. Every single one of them shows Dove in her bed, her expression peaceful, her eyes closed…

“He sees you when you’re sleeping,” she mutters.

Ah. That’s my girl. She gets it.

I take her hand again, tugging her so that she has nowhere to go but to me. I pull her onto my lap. “He knows when you’re awake,” I murmur, and as I shove up the hem of her t-shirt, it’s so fucking easy to position her so that I can thrust up into her as gravity allows her to sink down on top of my cock.

Once I’m seated inside of her with Dove seated on my lap, I swoop her mass of hair over her shoulder, nestling my chin near the point where it connects with her neck.

Leaning over Dove, I ease the camera out of her shell-shocked hands. She was still staring at one of the first pictures I snapped of her sleeping securely in her bed. With practiced fingers, I operate the camera until it’s ready to take another shot.

It’s not as easy to take a selfie with a professional camera, but when there’s a will, there’s a way, and I need this moment in time documented for the future. My precious Dove impaled on my cock, the hem of her t-shirt covering the point where she’s stretched around my girth, the two of us under her Christmas tree where—once she comes back to me again—I’m going to lay her out and fuck her until she admits that her cop’s cock is more than ‘okay’... I’ll never forget this moment, but I want a picture of it anyway.

When I turn the camera around again, checking on the shot, Dove jolts. I moan as the way her pussy flutters around my erection before squeezing it has me desperate to start thrusting, but I get the feeling that she doesn’t even realize that I’m inside of her.

Like, she knows , but she’s so distracted by the picture of my well-fucked girl on my lap, my cocky face peering over her shoulder as I tell the world with my smirk I’ve won that she didn’t try to make me go off on purpose. She just reacted, and the same thing happens as she twists enough to glare at me.

God, is there anything fucking sexier than a pissed off woman on your lap?

“What’s this?” she demands. “More blackmail? If I don’t do what you want, you’ll show everyone this picture of us obviously fucking?”

Hm. I guess it is pretty obvious.

I press a kiss to her upper back. “I would never. I can promise you that, at least. These pictures… this moment in time? It’s ours, precious. No one else’s.”

She frowns. “Then why take the picture at all? Why take any of these?”

Shouldn’t the professional photographer understand that better than anyone?

“Memories,” I say simply. “Think of them as watching me fall in love with you before you even knew I was there. And now that you do… we’ll start documenting our life together, starting with our first Christmas.”

“You say that like there will be more. Like you’re not going to walk out on this one and we’ll never see each other again.”

Wishful thinking on your part, perhaps, Dove. I’m not going anywhere. This Christmas, I had one wish, and with Dove slowly starting to grind her pussy against me, almost like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, I got just what I wanted.

Dove Yarrow underneath a Christmas tree.

I reach around her, pinching her nipple through her t-shirt.

She gasps, her inner walls gripping me so tightly, I swear my cock nearly snaps in half before her grinding becomes full-out riding.

I grin. That’s my girl. “You got your gifts from Santa, Dove. I’ve got mine. Of course there will be more Christmases.”

“That’s what you think,” she gasps.

No. That’s what I know .

And, remember, Santa knows everything.