JC had to admit Francesca’s loft felt more like Christmas when the families had finished their handiwork. The Christmas tree sparkled with tiny white lights. Lucia had said Francesca didn’t have one single ornament that didn’t have a meaning or story behind it. For every one of her thirty-two years, there was a special ornament. She had ornaments from several foreign traditions — She found the stories fascinating. He had to remember to get something to mark their first Christmas together; he had the idea his old-fashioned gypsy would appreciate such a gesture. Beyond the tree was the scent of pine smoke from the fireplace, freshly baked cookies, and cocoa. Gaily wrapped packages were stacked beneath the tree. His mother had even put a stack of Christmas CDs on the stereo before she left. Everyone from Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby to George Strait was wishing him Merry Christmas. It was picture perfect...
Only one thing was missing...
Francesca.
Now the snow came down heavily, muffling the sounds of the city — and dimming the hope his fiancée would be home for Christmas Eve — the next day. He doubted jets would be landing in the current conditions. The last time he’d spoken to Francesca she’d been so hopeful...
JC couldn’t sleep in the bed they shared one more night without her. Tugging the comforter off, he carried it to the living room. Her favourite oversized chair with its matching hassock practically made a bed on its own. Yeah, he could go to his loft; but if there was the slightest chance she would make it home that night, he wanted to be there. Wrapping the big comforter around him, he settled into the chair. He was surrounded by warmth and her scent. With the lights of the tree and streetlights the only illumination, his eyelids were quickly tugged down as he drifted off to sleep.
Francesca dragged her duffle bag into the loft. Her body ached from the fatigue of driving in impossible weather they had encountered since they had left New Orleans the day before. Jeff and Justine had tried to convince her to wait, to see if she could catch a flight out the next day. She had refused. On Christmas Eve she planned on being home — and how was she to get a flight when everyone travelled that day? Brother and friend had never known her to be so stubborn. They had threatened to call JC; sure he would choose her safety over a promise to be home. Francesca threatened never to speak to either of them ever again. This was her first Christmas with JC and a little thing like a blizzard was not going to keep her from his side. So the three of them had taken turns driving and sleeping, breaking land speed records when they could. She’d gotten her first speeding ticket and paid an exorbitant price to get it taken care of quickly. Admitting Francesca was indeed the best snow driver of the trio, the others had given her the wheel as they drew closer to their destination. She wanted to get home — but she wanted to get home in one piece!
Dropping her bag just inside the door, she shed her heavy coat and boots. She mused at the outfit she wore. JC would love to see her in this get up! Heavy flannel and work dungarees — you couldn’t get less feminine. This was certainly not her typical mode of dress.
Francesca spotted the Christmas tree. Ah, her parents and brothers had played Christmas elves. She had a wonderful family. No doubt Jeff’s house would have been decorated as well. But wait... They wouldn’t have left the lights on in an empty apartment... JC?...
Stepping further into the room, she spotted the man all but swallowed by the king-sized comforter sleeping in the chair a few feet from the lighted tree. Despite the day’s growth of beard, he looked very much like their sons would look in sleep. Sweet. Innocent. Adorable. Their sons...
She released a happy sigh. This beautiful man would be the father of her children. They would grow old together... The future held so much promise...
And she had made it home to him for their first Christmas Eve.
Shedding all her clothes save her pink tank top and matching panties, she managed to snuggle into the comforter with the sleeping man.
“Mmm... Gypsy...” JC mumbled in his sleep, tightening his arms around her.
“Yes, darling,” she whispered, trying not to awaken him. She was horny and exhausted. She’d rest now and let JC take care of horny later. Tucking her head beneath his chin, she slipped her slender arms around his comforting hard, lean frame. Sleep found her quickly.
Sometime just before dawn, JC became aware of a sweet, familiar weight against him. Francesca! Easing his eyes open, he gazed down at the beautiful face of his fiancée pressed to his chest. Dark circles like bruises were beneath her eyes, giving testament of her exhaustion. Poor baby... He would have understood if she hadn’t made it home. She hadn’t needed to push herself into this state. He would have been disappointed still he would have understood.
He stroked a light fingertip down the delicate line of her cheek. His gypsy. His angel. His baby. The fact she was his and planned to be his forever still amazed him. A club fuck that never truly was a club fuck. They had joined at the heart that first time — and every time since. She’d withstood some of his worst behaviour and remained his. Not that she’d let him slide. She’d taken her pound of flesh! Francesca was strong as she was beautiful. Feisty. Independent. Passionate. Loyal. He’d known all of this within the first twenty-four hours. And the more he knew, the more there was to love.
He couldn’t resist brushing a light kiss on her sleep-soft mouth.
“Mmm... JC...” she whispered. “Tastes like more...”
He hadn’t meant to wake her. Staying still he hoped she’d drift back to unconsciousness once more. Instead he watched as she got that little wrinkle between her brows that meant she was vexed.
“Miser,” Francesca grumbled as no kiss came.
“You awake?” he questioned on a soft chuckle.
“Uh-huh.”
Then he gave her ‘more’. Taking her face between his hands he nibbled and stroked the tip of his tongue along her lips until she whimpered and opened fully for a thorough exploration. By the time their lips tore apart they were gasping for air.
“I take that back,” she panted. “You’re no miser — a little over-generous...”
JC laughed. “Take it to the complaint department, lady!”
“It wasn’t a complaint — just a statement of fact.” She grinned up at him. “Happy Christmas Eve, darling.”
“Happy Christmas Eve, Gypsy.”
Looping her arms around his neck, she declared, “I love you.”
“I love you.”
Francesca pressed up against him, feeling his body’s immediate response. “Yep, that was another thing...”
“What other thing?” he asked well aware she felt his condition.
“When I got here I was tired and horny. Since you were asleep I decided to join you. I figured we’d get around to taking care of horny eventually.”
“You are still tired, honey,” he reminded her quietly.
“But I sleep great after a big ‘O’,” she hinted impishly.
JC shook his head with a chuckled. “Not exactly subtle, Francesca.”
“I don’t do subtle.”
“Don’t I just know it! It’s one of those great things I love about you.”
“Come on, lover. Give it to me — unless you’re too tired.” Maybe he needed more sleep...
“I’m primed and rarin’ to go, baby,” he assured her. “One big ‘O’, comin’ up!” He dove beneath the comforter to mischievously bury his face between her thighs, scraping her skin with his unshaven cheeks.
Francesca sighed as his tongue teased the center panel of her panties. Damn he was good! “Uh, Mister Chasez, not to complain, because you got one great tongue... But will I get some of that fine big penis too?”
“Count on it, Gypsy,” his amused muffled voice responded.
Relaxing back against the cushions, she murmured, “Oh, goodie...”
Later JC fulfilled one of Francesca’s more romantic, girlish fantasies. As a teenage girl she had dreamed the man she loved would make love to her next to a sparkling Christmas tree while holiday, carols played on the stereo and a fire crackled in the fireplace. He drew the drapes to simulate night, lit a fire, and laid the comforter next to the tree. Putting Nat King Cole on the stereo, he took her into his arms and they swayed to the music. It was then Francesca noticed her mother had engineered the placement of mistletoe from the high loft ceilings. Once the kissing began, JC bore her down to the comforter. They made slow exquisite love together until they were too exhausted and satisfied to move. Wrapping the comforter around them, JC held her while they slept.
That night as was the Carlisle tradition, the Carlisle children attended a late dinner at their parents’ home. As always Justine joined them. This year JC and his parents were also present. The plan was to have dinner then head to church for midnight mass. After dinner, they lingered over a casual dessert of cake and coffee in the family room. Discovering mistletoe in the archway leading from the dining room, JC quickly made use of it. Francesca scolded him teasingly.
“Hey, it isn’t often I get to mack on you in front of the parental units!” he responded, rolling his eyes in a joking leer.
Johnny then parked himself by the arch waiting for the unsuspecting Justine. When he took her hand to guide her beneath the sprig of white berries, he had to suffer her indulgent, dismissive look of amusement. It was a different story when he raised his head again. Johnny hadn’t gone for a mere peck. It was a full-court press. His lips lingered and moved on hers. Her gasp allowed his tongue to sweep in for a brief taste of her before he released the dazed, shaken woman.
Francesca shot JC a glance askance. He merely smiled. “My little brother has a hard on!” she hissed at her fiancé.
“I’m sure it isn’t his first one,” JC replied quietly. “And not his last.”
“But Johnny... Justine...”
He merely arched his eyebrow at her words.
“Johnny?”
“Uh-huh. For years...”
“Fuck.” It was the only word she knew to relay her astonishment.
JC laughed. He’d had to curb his language in front of her parents, now she blurted out the word she had objected to him using!
Johnny strolled by and shared a low-five with JC.