The Best Present Ever

by Di

Peering down from the top of the steps, I can see the reflection on the hardwood floor changing colors like an Earthbound Aurora Borealis.

I know I turned off all the lights on the tree. I remember squeezing between the prickly branches to reach the electrical outlet and pulling the plug. It must be the lights I put around the fireplace mantle, I decide as I step down the first stair. I don't remember turning those off, but it's funny I don't remember seeing them when I went up to bed last night.

The entire evening had been spent sitting cross-legged on the floor wrapping gifts, making sure the printed gift tags matched the packages and attaching the color coordinated bows to each. Every year I swore I'd get this done early but this year, just as in years past, I ended up spending Christmas Eve hurriedly getting things ready to pack in the car for the short drive to my parents home in the morning.

The next step squeaks slightly as it bears my weight. By bending over slightly I can just make out the time on the grandfathers clock, which sits at the bottom of the staircase. Six o'clock! It's only six o'clock in the morning! But, I didn't get to bed until after two! What in the world could have woken me up enough to get me out of bed after only four hours of sleep?

Two more steps. I must be losing my mind. Now I'm thinking I hear some kind of 'rustle' coming from the living room. Fine time to think about it, but why didn't I bring my cordless phone with me? I'd heard stories of thieves breaking into houses on Christmas Eve and stealing all the gifts from under the tree along with the family's televisions, stereos and everything else they could get their hands on. What's to say it's not thieves down there? Without the phone, I can't even call 911! I can feel the fear building up while I keep telling myself that no self-respecting thief is going to break into a house planning to steal all the presents and, oh yeah, turn on the Christmas tree lights just for kicks.

Shoulders back, head high, I clench the handrail and take another step. Shit! This is the bad step that I keep promising myself I am going to get fixed! Each time I go up and down the steps, it gives a mournful groan if you step squarely in the middle. Which, of course, I just did. The noise seems to reverberate throughout the entryway forever.

I stand there frozen, not daring to move. I can no longer hear the rustle I thought I had heard earlier. The only sound my ears pick up is the sound of my own heart beating in the dark.

Scolding myself for just being silly, I move down the next two steps quickly. Only five more steps remain between me, the bottom of the stairs and whatever is beyond the doorway into the living room. Which, I am furtively praying, is nothing.

Just as my foot touches the next step, I can make out the faint strains of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas". Someone, or something, has flipped the power switch on the stereo, deliberately keeping the volume turned low.

I take the next steps silently, but quickly. Keeping my body close to the wall, I crane my neck around the doorframe, trying to see what was going on in the room but still hoping to keep out of sight. Nothing could have prepared me for what I see as I peek around the corner.

The source of the twinkling lights is immediately evident. The Christmas tree is fully lit, as are the lights that line the fireplace mantle. The new decorative candles I had placed in the candelabra on the coffee table are burning, casting a warm, wavering glow to the room.

Everything my senses are taking in, the lights, the music, the smell of the pine scented candles, fades immediately as my eyes fall on what is stretched out on the Oriental rug in front of the Christmas tree.

The multi-colored lights dance warmly on the satin skin of the man who lay on his back under the pine needle branches. Polite or not, who could help but stare when you find THIS waiting for you on Christmas morning? I blink hard, praying he'll still be there when I open my eyes. He is.

Naked, except for a red felt cap trimmed in white fur and a strategically placed gold bow, he lies with one arm outstretched, the other draped across his brow. Soft curls cover his chest, and my eyes follow the line that trails down to meet the festive bow. A contented sound, almost a purr, comes from his slightly parted lips as he slowly stretches and his eyes flutter open.

His head turns slightly, amber eyes locking with mine. A mischievous grin curves his lips as he moves to lie on his side, raising himself to lean on one elbow. A hand reaches toward me, and I immediately clutch at the ragged flannel bathrobe I had grabbed on my way out of the bedroom. My thoughts fly to the sexy red lingerie I bought on total impulse about six months earlier. Had I only known what was waiting for me down here…well, I sure wouldn't be standing here in something that looked like it belonged in the rag bin!

Apparently he doesn't notice the hole in the pocket, or the fraying cuffs, or the drooping hem. Not taking his eyes from mine, he curls his index finger suggestively to invite me to join him on the floor. I am as good as hypnotized. My feet move on their own accord as I cross the room and slowly kneel in front of him. With a shift of his body, he is also on his knees. I feel a quick tug at my waistline followed by a brush of cool air as the belt to my robe opens and he smoothly pushes the garment from my shoulders. Running his hands up my sides, he guides my arms upward. With one sweep of his hand, the cotton nightie I had on beneath the robe is lifted over my head and tossed across the floor. I realize that there is no longer anything between us. Nothing, that is, except the bow. With a sudden burst of bravado, I reach down and using two fingers, gently pluck the bow from its perch. With a mischievous grin of my own, I flip it over my shoulder in the same direction the nightie had gone.

Suddenly it doesn't matter that I didn't know where he came from, why he is here or even if he'll be here in the morning. He is here now and, for all extents and purposes, he is MY Christmas present and I am going to enjoy him!

I brush the hat from his head and wind my fingers through the soft, almost black, curls, pulling him closer until our lips are fractions of an inch apart. A low growl emanates from his throat as he brings his hand to the back of my neck. I quit breathing the second his lips touch mine. After all, who needs oxygen when you are this close to a living angel?

Suddenly hands are everywhere. An arm wraps around the small of my back at the same time I feel a hand cover my breast. My arms wind around him, reveling in the ripple of muscle beneath skin as he gently turns and lowers me onto the rug.

While fingers tweak and massage the nipple of one breast, I feel the soft caress of lips on the other. My body writhes in pleasure as those lips open, alternately sucking and licking it until the nub becomes hard and erect.

Using his knee, he gently nudges my legs apart, lowering his body to settle between them. His arousal is evident with every shift of his body, and inwardly I scream for him to bring us together now. Hands roam over my stomach and hips, returning to my breasts and driving me to the brink of insanity. Fingers entwine as he pushes my arms above my head and brings his lips to suck on the pulse point at the base of my neck.

My heart lurches in my chest as I feel him stop and pull back. My eyes fly open to see him resting on his elbows above me, warm brown eyes full of question. Almost in a whisper, the first words of the night are spoken in a deep, baritone voice, resonating with lust, "Are you sure?"

In answer, I reach up to pull his lips back to mine, my tongue demanding and gaining entrance to the warm, wet confines of his mouth. My nails rake across his back as our tongues dance together passionately.

Reaching down, my fingers curl around the hard rod of his manhood, guiding it into the warm wetness that awaits it. Mutual gasps fill the room as we come together, moving slowly at first. The thrusts grow faster and stronger as we find the rhythm of our lovemaking.

I open my eyes and watch his face as he brings us to the brink of ecstasy. Corded neck muscles bulge as his thrusts grow stronger. My head tosses from side to side, fingers digging into his buttocks as I attempt to draw him even closer, and I know I will not be able to last much longer.

With a final thrust, we come to the wonders of orgasm as one. Our cries of release reverberate throughout room at the same moment the strains of "Hallelujah" are being sung by a choir as Christmas carols still play on the stereo.

I hold his head to my heart as our breathing begins to slow. The wonders of what has just happened overwhelm me, and I repeatedly kiss the curls that cover his head, now damp from exertion.

With a sigh, he slowly rolls to his back, pulling me into the curve of his body. The afterglow of our lovemaking still burns bright as I drape my leg over his and wind my fingers through the soft curls sprinkled across his chest. My body melts to his as I lay my head over his heart, my ear hearing every breath, every heartbeat.

Just as the sweet sleep of fulfillment begins to take over my body, he speaks once more. The softly accented voice, warm as velvet, softly murmurs "Merry Christmas", followed by the melodic tone of a single silver bell.