Christmas With the Convict (Bringing Home Trouble)

Chapter 4

CHASE

Footsteps thudding above me let me know that the house is slowly waking up. The kids are first, rushing around like puppies, their stampeding resulting in a crash or thump every few minutes. Some poor adult, probably their mom or dad, follows and fills the place with the smell of coffee.

All I want to do is stay here, in the basement, and wait for Wendy to sneak down again. I didn’t fall asleep for hours after she left. How could I? How could I do anything but lie here and hold onto the image of her delicate body in that red nightgown…

Last night was… I’d forgotten what the warmth of another person’s touch feels like. She’s bringing me back to life, reaching into the cold grave and pulling me into the light.

I can’t just sit down here and wait.

Having the freedom to head upstairs when I feel like it is so foreign to me. I almost didn’t go to the bathroom in the middle of the night because I assumed the door would be locked like back in my cell…

As soon as I open the door, the noise of a bustling home smacks me like a train flying by. The kids are squealing and running just out of reach of any adult. I can hear people in the kitchen. Men, mostly.

I take a deep breath and try to walk like I belong here.

There’s already a fire going in the gigantic main living room—that stone fireplace looks like the house was built around it—and I spot a smaller fire as I step bleary-eyed into the bright kitchen. Everything here is so clean and white, gleaming as the sunshine bounces off the snow through the wide windows.

Wendy’s sister, brother-in-law, uncle, and cousin are all sitting in a little corner nook by one of the windows. Her sister, Lillian, jumps up and hustles toward me in her pajamas.

“Morning, Chase.” She smiles at me and offers me her seat. “Take a load off. Cream and sugar in your coffee?”

“Black.”

A cousin whose name I can’t remember raises his mug. “Thattaboy.”

“Tell me, Chase.” Wendy’s uncle leans over the table. “How was the coffee in prison?”

Lillian returns with a steaming mug and smacks the man on the arm. “Stop pestering him, Uncle Rick.”

“No, it’s fine.” I take the mug and nod my thanks. “Coffee inside was decent. We had to pay for it from the commissary. Folgers must have a contract because that’s all they had.”

I take a sip, caught off guard by how sweet the coffee is without any sugar.

“Never mind,” I say. “The coffee inside was shit.”

Everyone laughs.

Lillian slides onto the bench next to me. It’s warm between her and the cousin.

They keep talking as if I’m one of their own, whispering about the kids’ gifts under the tree, laughing because Wendy’s mom and aunt had a bit too much to drink last night.

I do my best to pretend like this is completely normal.

“Is Wendy awake yet?” I ask.

“That night owl?” Lillian rolls her eyes. “You’d be better off taking her coffee up and holding it under her nose.”

“Should I?”

“Go for it,” their cousin says. “She needs to get up soon, anyway. We’ve got a mountain to shred. You ski, Chase?”

“Uh, no.”

“Snowboard?”

“Actually.” I slide off the bench and grab my mug. “I was gonna stay behind while y’all do your thing. Maybe take a hike or sit by the fire for a while.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Oliver.”

Richard Bettencourt is standing by the coffee pot when I turn around, filling two white mugs. He smiles and raises one at me before taking a cautious sip.

“You see, everyone will be out today,” he says. “Lillian’s taking the kids to the village, and the rest of us will be skiing until lunch. We can’t have you all alone in this big house. That just wouldn’t be right, don’t you think?”

“It wouldn’t be a problem for me, sir,” I say. “I like the quiet.”

Mr. Bettencourt smiles. “I insist that you join us.”

Suddenly, this kitchen is as tense as a prison chow hall.

My eyes instinctively dart toward the rack of chef’s knives. It’s only for a split second, but I curse myself for it.

Lucky for me, Wendy’s loud uncle bails me out. He gets up and slaps me on the back. “Don’t worry, Chase. We’ll show you the ropes out there. We’ve all been skiing since we could walk! There’s plenty of spare gear in the basement for you to borrow.”

If the others see what Richard is doing, they don’t say anything.

He doesn’t give a fuck if I learn to ski or go to the village and make snow angels with the kids all day.

He doesn’t want a criminal in his home without supervision. To him, I’m the Grinch come to steal all the presents from under the tree.

“See, Rick’s got you. Take him down there and get him geared up.” Richard grabs the second cup of coffee he poured. “And as for waking my daughter, I’ve got that covered.”

Even their skiing gear is a little too small for me.

The black overalls ride up my crotch.

Uncle Rick’s spare boots crunch my toes.

And these poles feel like big toothpicks.

Still, it’s worth it to be anywhere near Wendy. She’s in a light blue jacket that matches her eyes, a headband the same color as that skirt she wore yesterday, and her golden hair whips around her in the wind.

If only I could stay upright long enough to admire her.

We’re all gathered at the head of the village where the chairs pull riders up the imposing mountain. Thick cables stretch into the clouds and the chairs disappear.

Wendy helps me into my skis. I feel like a newborn deer carrying the weight of a boulder. Every time I go to take a step, I slip and slide, or my legs run away from each other. The only upside is Wendy laughing and grabbing my arms each time I fall.

“You’re getting it,” she says as she gets me upright. “Sort of. Remember, pizza when you want to slow down. French fry when you want to—”

“I’ll stick to pizza. ”

The others glide effortlessly over like the bullies from some eighties’ ski-flick. Wendy’s dad and uncle chuckle as I nearly lose my balance again.

“Everybody ready?” Richard claps his gloves. “Let’s get moving before the tourists clog up the lifts.”

“You go ahead,” Wendy whips around on her skis. “I’ll take Chase to the bunny-hill for a while. He needs to get his bearings.”

Everyone laughs.

It’s not like when we were sitting around having coffee. They’re laughing at me.

“You’re gonna wait in that line?” Uncle Rick points his pole to the lift crowded mostly with kids. “For a sixty-second ride down a hill? Godspeed, kids.”

Most of them follow Rick toward one of the big lifts. Wendy’s dad laughs and shakes his head. “Well, Honey. If you want to waste your day on the kiddie slope, I won’t stop you. I’m hitting the big-boy runs. Have fun with your Christmas Charity.”

“I’m game.” With every inch of my body as rigid as stone, I carefully shove myself forward off my poles. “You learn to swim by jumping in the deep end, right?”

Wendy pulls up next to me and hooks her arm in mine.

I watch her father’s eyes blaze, and I can’t help but smile. Here she is, his youngest daughter, his angel , cozying up with a convict.

If he wants to torture me, I have no problem returning the favor.

“Let’s go before the tourists clog the ski escalators.” I shove off first, still unsteady but learning.

“They’re called lifts. ”

Wendy drifts beside me and pokes my leg with her pole. “You sure about this?”

“Nope,” I grunt, breath puffing out in a thick cloud. “So, please, don’t leave me up there.”

We slide into line behind the others. Everyone is bouncy and smiling.

I can’t stop watching the chairs swoop down and swing around so fast that I’m sure this will kill me.

“Stay right beside me,” Wendy says. “And just sit back with me onto the chair.”

Her aunt and uncle go.

Then her cousin and brother-in-law take off whooping.

When it’s our turn, I let her yank me forward, feel the chair smack the back of my legs, and plop my ass down. The ground flies away, and I hold Wendy’s leg like it’s the emergency brake.

She laughs, pulls a metal bar down onto our laps, and rests her head on my shoulder.

“You’re brave,” she says. “When my prom date came to pick me up, my dad nearly made him piss his pants. He was still a cop back then.”

Once a cop, always a cop.

The wind bites at us as we soar above trees, skiers, and huge ramps and rails for showoffs to nail dangerous tricks. We snuggle up together, and Wendy takes off her glove to hold my hand.

“If prison taught me anything, it’s that you don’t back down when someone is staring.”

“Is that why you couldn’t stop staring at me during class?”

“No.” I look down and meet her gaze. A bit of snow lands on her button nose. “I stared for the same reason I do now: You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Wendy smiles up at me. “Only because you’ve been in prison.”

“Bullshit, I’m in Aspen , and I’d still rather look at you.”

I lean in for a kiss—the taste of cinnamon on her lips still warm in my mind from last night—but she stops me short.

“Later,” she says, gesturing behind us. “You think my father is admiring Aspen right now?”

Sure enough, I spot Richard in the distance, rooted to the chair behind us, staring right at me. We’re up through the low clouds now, but it’s not enough to provide the cover we need. Wendy’s mother is sitting beside him but he pays her no mind.

I look straight ahead, trying to ignore how high up we are.

“He hates me,” I say, warming my hands in hers. “His perfect Christmas gift would be me in the back of a squad car.”

“He’s hated every boy I’ve ever brought home.”

“I bet none of them were felons.”

“No. You’re at a slight disadvantage there,” she laughs. “But you have something they didn’t.”

Ahead of us, the others are soaring into a landing and sliding off their chairs. I look at Wendy hopefully, and she hooks her arm in mine again.

“They were just crushes,” she says with a wink. “And none of them kissed me the way you do.”

Our skis touch down on the smooth landing. It immediately dips and we fly away from the chair. We’re in a clearing among the trees, mostly flat with people adjusting their gear, talking, or sitting on the many benches near the landing.

Somehow, I stay up and sail smoothly. Wendy even lets go of my arm, cheering me on. “You got it! Pizza!”

“Hey, I’m getting it,” I call back.

An uncontrollable smile breaks over my face. I feel stupid, silly with joy as I give another shove with my poles and head toward the rest of the family. They’re all gathered for a group picture, but I don’t know how to turn so I slide past them even as Wendy’s brother-in-law reaches out to stop me.

“Pizza!” Wendy cries. “ Pizza!”

My legs shake rather than cooperate.

The snow dips again like an endless slide.

I remember my first day in prison. Every step into that hell felt like a belt being tightened around my throat. Each set of eyes was a predator, whether guard or inmate, and the only thing I was sure of was the fear consuming me.

This is far more terrifying.

Wind rushes in my ears. The trapper hat Rick let me borrow flies off my head. And before I know it, I’m off the main run and into the trees. My skis follow a path of their own will, weaving me between thick trunks and under branches until I finally catch a rock or a log and tumble into the snow.

Freezing cold swallows my head.

Luckily, it’s still fresh, soft snow.

No blood. No broken bones.

I think I’ll lie here for a while, it’s quiet. The snow is so clean and untouched. Where I’m from, it often turns to a gray slush within a day of falling.

Where I’m from, people like Wendy don’t exist.

She whips through the trees with ease, hair flying out like a flag of sunlight behind her. She slides to a quick halt, throws her poles aside, and jumps out of her skis.

“You were supposed to pizza ,” she’s already laughing. “Are you alright?”

“Surprisingly.”

“We should have hit the bunny slopes.”

I lay my head back on the snow pile and sigh.

“I know,” she says. “You couldn’t let him have it. Men. ”

I take her arm and lift myself up. My skis popped off when I crashed and I have no idea where my poles went. Wendy steadies me and keeps her hands on my waist.

“You ready to get back out there?” she asks, staring up at me.

From here, I can’t even see the other skiers or the run. We’re alone. As alone as we’ve been since we got out of her car and walked into that insane house.

“No,” I hum, taking her face in my hands. “I’m not.”

In an instant, my thoughts click into Wendy’s mind. She glances back in the direction she came before meeting my eyes and running her teeth over her lips.

“They’re long gone by now,” she says. “And I’m sure they’ll expect us to take it real slow down the mountain.”

Slowly, Wendy slides the zipper down her jacket. She holds my gaze the entire time, breath puffing out in clouds that fog my vision.

I tear her jacket off with a growl and pull her thick long sleeve over her head. Piece by piece, we strip each other down until the cold is forcing our bodies together.

As if we need the help.

Her hand finds my warm cock, making us both gasp as she backs me up against a tree.

“This is what I wanted to do last night,” she whispers and kisses my neck. “It’s what I thought about when I was back in my bed.”

I feel like a starving man who’s been given a perfectly cooked steak.

I’m rabid, wild with a lustful hunger.

And as Wendy unhooks her bra, I fill my hands with her soft, milky tits. She shudders and moans softly as her stiff, cute little nipples roll between my fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw you.”

Wendy smiles and squeezes my shaft. “That first day. You weren’t even in my class yet. You were mopping floors…”

“You remember? I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“ I noticed, Chase,” she whispers in my ear. “The truth is, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. About what I might say to you if we were alone. About what it might feel like to kiss your lips, to touch your body, to stroke your…”

I groan and lean back against the tree.

“I bet you didn’t think it’d be like this.”

“No,” Wendy giggles. “You’ve far exceeded even my wildest dreams—“

I take her words from her lips.

I take them finally knowing that this desire, this obsession that I’ve felt since I first heard her heels hitting those ugly gray floors has been shared with her the entire time.

I kiss her knowing that she’s falling for me and that nothing and no one will stop us now.

Wendy squeals as I whip her around and press her bare back against the tree. I drop to my knees and tug her snow pants down, clawing at the layers beneath until I see the blond hairs of her perfect mound.

“I would go back to prison if it was the only way I could see you.” I kiss her belly, working my way down with every word. “I’d put myself behind bars just for the chance to look at you, Wendy. This… this feels like a dream. I swear I’m going to wake up right back in my cell with bars and walls and guards and guns between us.”

“It’s not a dream,” Wendy huffs and runs her fingers through my hair. I taste her, and she moans desperately. “I promise, baby. This is real. This. Us . It’s real. I don’t care what my dad thinks. I don’t care if every person in my family is talking about me behind my back, talking about how crazy or naive or foolish I must be. I’ve been waiting for the chance to hold you for months, and I’m not letting go…”

I rise to my feet.

Our thick pants are bunched up around our ankles in the snow.

Wendy whimpers and works her hips against me, letting my hard cock poke and slide around her waist until I have her leg hooked under my arm.

She nods frantically, throwing her arms around my shoulders and kissing my lips. “I’m not letting go. I want it. I want you… Chase, I want you…”

She’s the warmest thing I’ve ever felt.

Years spent alone in the cold. Fucking years deprived of any slightly pleasant touch or smell or sensation, and now I’m thrusting into her perfect, tight pussy for the first time. It’s enough to make me go crazy.

She is driving me crazy.

Snow drifts down from the branches, rocked off by our rhythm against the tree. Wendy pants and whimpers, smiling and staring into my eyes, tongue flicking my lips from time to time.

“You feel so good…” Her head drops back against the bark. “Oh, Chase. You feel so fucking good…”

The way she moans each word throws gasoline onto the fire in my heart. It blazes and beats so fast that I’m sure the snow around us is melting.

She drags her fingers down my body, clawing at every inch of muscle.

“Harder,” she whispers as if someone still might find us, “ harder .”

I pull out only to whirl her around, but it’s long enough to make her beg for it.

How will we go back to that house and restrain ourselves after this?

I don’t think I can survive another night alone, without her touch, without her soft, sweet breath on my neck as I sleep.

Her little bubble butt is pink with the cold. I spread her open and take her from behind. I press myself against her, molding her breasts against the tree. She cries out and closes her eyes, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

All those nights alone. All that silent rage and fear kept inside of me. I unleash it on her. I rail her so hard that we might cause an avalanche.

She’s shaking uncontrollably, hair over her eyes bouncing with each breath.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I growl. “You’re my dream. You’re everything…”

My hands fly across her body, back and forth, unsure of what perfect inch of her to worship.

“Right there,” she pleads, voice cracking. “Right there. Right there.”

Snow crunches beneath me as I lose my footing but keep pounding her delicate body.

“Wendy. Wendy.” Her name owns my lips. “I’m gonna—“

“Baby! Don’t stop!”

“Oh fuck…”

It feels just like flying down the hill, completely out of control. All that’s left is to hold on tight and crash.

“WENDY!”

“Mhm. Mhmm. Mhmm! ” She moans up and down, already shaking and clawing at the tree. “ CUM INSIDE OF ME!”

Wendy’s body does something to me I can’t explain.

It’s not just an orgasm. It’s not my vision swirling and my muscles spasming as I fill her with my seed. I’ve cum to the thought of her before—and it would shame me to ever admit this to her—when the lights were out and the prison was asleep. I filled my hand with everything that was meant for her.

Those lonely nights could have never prepared me for what this would really feel like.

It feels like a vow, a promise.

As we collapse in the snow together, so hot with each other’s touch that the snow on our bare skin means nothing, I know that we’ve turned a page and started something that is out of our control.

And if getting in that car with her was a mistake, I’ll gladly pay for it.

I’d die happy tomorrow having lived with her today, in this moment, where nothing else matters but her breathless words in my ear.

“Chase,” she sings. “I’m not letting go… I promise… I’m here…”