Santa’s Pucking Hat Trick (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

29. Wes

29

WES

I ’d never been nervous about dinner at the Henning house before, but I’d also never walked into Paula and Steve Henning’s beautiful home on Thanksgiving of all days with the knowledge weighing on me that I was sleeping with their daughter.

First time for everything.

It wasn’t a factor, though. No one here knew but Rachel and me, and that was how it was going to stay for now, if not forever. Ma and I had been invited for dinner as neighbors, pseudo-family, since our own family was just us two most of the time. All of the extended Robbins pack lived a lot farther out. That made for a lot of leftover turkey. We’d had Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Hennings a couple of times during my childhood, but it had been a while since we’d last been included on this. Not since before Rachel left for college.

“Thanks again for having us, Mrs. Henning,” I thanked Paula, who wore a delightfully tacky sweater with a turkey wearing a Santa hat. A perfect transition piece that marked the shift from the holiday our town saw only as pre-Christmas to the season we all cared about. The Henning place was all decked out in red and green, of course, and their massive Christmas tree was lit up in the living room.

“Oh, Wes, you know you and Phoebe are always welcome!”

I might not be if they knew about all of the hot, raunchy group sex. But God willing, no one in this room would ever know that but Rachel and me.

That thought rubbed me the wrong way, though. A pang of unexpected pain came with it. I wanted more than secrets with Rachel Henning. I wanted to be here as hers, proudly walking in on her arm. Hell, I even wanted to walk in with Sawyer and Roman openly proclaiming themselves as hers too—something about our dynamic with Rachel was so easy, so right, that even our friendship felt stronger because of it. I’d take this strange, unconventional arrangement with Rachel and the guys over a normal relationship any day.

“You need help in the kitchen, Paula?” Ma piped up, breaking me out of my thoughts. “What still needs to be done before dinner?”

“Oh, not much, really,” Paula waved a hand. “Honey?” She turned to her husband.

“You can help me out with the stuffing,” Steve stepped in helpfully. “Paula hates the stuff, so she leaves it to me, along with the turkey. It’s a family affair.”

“Exactly as it should be,” my mom said, rolling up her sleeves. She shot me a wink as she left me in the living room with Michael, Rachel, and the half-dozen Henning cousins who’d come to town for the holiday.

The house buzzed with energy, and I did my best to settle in, though I was shy in crowds this size. Rachel usually was too, but not when she was in a group with all of her people. I watched her across the room as I sipped a glass of wine one of her aunts had offered me. She was chatting with some of her cousins, her laugh light and contagious. I had to keep reminding myself to mingle with the other guests and not just stare at her. I was supposed to just be Wes, the neighbor, Michael’s friend and teammate and nothing more. But every time Rachel glanced my way with a small smile, like we shared some secret, it sent a warm rush through me.

I wandered over to Rachel and Michael’s Great-Uncle Irvin, who was sitting in his usual spot by the fireplace, a plate of appetizers balanced on his lap. He was the oldest of the Hennings, well into his seventies, but he still had a sharp mind, especially when it came to hockey.

“Wes Robbins, my boy!” Irvin greeted me with a grin, patting the seat next to him. “How’s the season going? You keeping those boys in line on the ice?”

I chuckled, sitting down beside him. “That’s Mike’s job as captain. But we’re doing well so far. Just trying to keep the momentum going, you know?”

Irvin nodded sagely. “That’s what it’s all about. Gotta play smart, not just hard. And you’ve been real smart so far, from what I hear.” He raised an eyebrow. “Rachel’s been bragging about you, even. She says you’re one of the best out there.”

I shot Rachel a look as she came closer to us, having heard her name. She blushed but smiled proudly as she sipped her own glass of wine—white, which I filed away as her preferred drink. “I just told him the truth,” she said, shrugging like it was no big deal. But it was. Hearing her talk me up like that after I’d had so many years being torn down by the woman who was supposed to be on my side…it meant more than I could put into words.

Michael, lounging on the couch with his feet in his girlfriend’s lap, gave an exaggerated groan. “You never talk about me like that, Rachel. I’m your twin, for crying out loud. And I’m the captain!”

She shot him a playful glare. “Please, Michael. You get enough attention as it is.”

I grinned and shared a quiet look with Rachel. Maybe emboldened a bit by the wine, she shot me a wink no one else saw. It was a small thing, but the connection between us felt electric. The kind of thing that made me realize just how much I cared about her, how much her opinion meant to me.

She wasn’t just some pretty face I’d had a crush on back in high school. That had been superficial, based on looks and the magnetic draw of her confidence. But now? Now I really knew her. I knew how fiercely she loved her family, how she lit up when she was around them, even if she held back in bigger crowds. I knew how she stayed up late working on her projects, always determined to get things just right. I knew how sweetly she came, how easily she surrendered to me, Roman, and Sawyer in bed.

Every part of her was perfect.

Watching her now, laughing with her cousins one minute and holding her great-aunt’s hand the next as she consoled her about the loss of her wife, I could see just how special she really was. When she took her cousin’s infant into her arms and cooed at the little girl, a huge smile lighting up her face, I felt my heart practically flip. I couldn’t stop picturing Rachel as a mom someday, holding a baby of her own—maybe one with my blue eyes and her dark hair. That image stuck in my mind like glue, and it made me feel all mushy inside in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

Bria came into the room, then, making a goofy ding ding ding sound with her mouth, becoming a human dinner bell. It was time for all of us to gather around the long dining table in the well-appointed formal dining room, which Paula Henning had laid with a massive set of fine china. The whole extended Henning clan squeezed in, Rachel taking her seat beside me, the smell of roasted turkey and sweet potatoes filling the air. As everyone loaded up their plates, the room hummed with laughter and light-hearted conversation. It was a tradition to go around the table and say what we were thankful for before we started eating, so naturally, Paula kicked things off.

“I’m thankful for my wonderful family, and the almost forty tickets we’ve already sold to my upcoming Christmas gala!” she said brightly. Her husband laughed beside her, patting her hand.

“I’m thankful for all the rain we’ve had this year, since my tree farm is looking better than ever. Oh, and my wife,” Steve joked.

One by one, everyone shared their gratitude. When it came to my turn, I hesitated, my mind racing between the obvious answer—the old standby of family, which everyone else had already said, or maybe something about hockey—and the deeper truth that was Rachel.

“I’m thankful for a great season so far,” I said, going the safer route. “The Santas are doing well, and we’re hoping to keep it up.”

“Of course you are, honey,” Ma said from across the table, smiling warmly. “I’m just thankful for my boy, Wes, and for the Hennings for always making us feel like part of the family.”

I smiled back at Ma, my chest tightening with affection. It felt right, being here with her. I felt Rachel nudge my leg with hers under the table. That felt right too.

Soon, when everyone else had gone but Michael and Violet, it was finally the former’s turn. It was odd that he’d ended up being last, since he was dead center at the table. I noticed him shifting nervously in his seat. He cleared his throat, glancing down at his lap for a second before looking up at Violet, who sat beside him.

“Well,” Michael began, his voice unusually soft. “I guess I’m thankful for a lot of things this year. But more than anything…I’m thankful for Violet.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box, and suddenly the whole room went still. Violet gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as Michael slid out of his chair and onto one knee.

“Violet, I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t remember what it was like before I loved you,” Michael said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re my best friend, my family, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t wait any longer to make it official. Will you marry me?”

Violet’s tears flowed instantly, and she nodded furiously, barely able to speak through her sobs. “Oh, Michael. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

The room erupted in cheers, everyone clapping and congratulating the newly engaged couple. Rachel let out a playful groan, crossing her arms. “I thought you were going to propose at Christmas, Mike! You were gonna let me help!”

Michael laughed, pulling Violet into his arms to kiss her cheek. Were it not for her deep skin tone, I was sure we all would have been able to see her blush, but we felt it as surely as she did. My friend shrugged, looking at his sister. “I couldn’t wait that long.”

As everyone celebrated, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. Not for Michael’s proposal or his happiness—he was my best friend, after all, and he and Violet were perfect for each other—but for the idea of it. The idea of loving someone so much, wanting to spend the rest of your life with them, and knowing they felt the same. Having the moment of celebration with everyone as you committed yourselves to one another. I glanced at Rachel, who was smiling so brightly it lit up the whole room, and I realized something that knocked the wind out of me.

I wanted that same moment with her. I wanted her every day, every hour. Without a single doubt, I was in love with her.

And I couldn’t say a damn word about it. Not here, not now. But that didn’t change the fact that it was true. I held it in as dinner resumed, then wrapped up, then turned into dessert— pies galore, and spiked hot chocolate for the adults in place of the wine. I kept my feelings inside, a burning ember of emotion, as a lot of the extended Henning crew headed to their hotels for the night and others retired to their guest rooms. Michael and Violet left, staying the night at her place since he still lived at home for now—they’d been looking for an apartment, though. Bria left too. So eventually, I finally had Rachel alone.

“I’m glad you were here today,” she told me as we walked together into the backyard. The night was cold enough that I’d given her my jacket, now that November was in full swing. “It was so…normal. But I kept wanting to touch you. Had to remind myself that no one else knows about us.”

Us. Such a simple word, but it felt so good to hear her say it. To think of us as a unit, somehow. “I wanted to touch you too.”

We were at the door to the guest house now, and it felt like the right time to tell Rachel what I’d realized over dinner. To say the three words that might ruin everything, but also might make it all fall into place. The stars twinkled above us in the night sky, and she looked so sweet, so open to the idea of love compared to the closed-off coldness I’d seen in her at first…but no matter how hard I tried to open my mouth and just let it out, no matter how badly I felt the need to share this with her like I wanted to share so much else in this life, the words stayed trapped in the back of my throat. The last person I’d loved— thought I’d loved, maybe, though it had felt genuine in the beginning—was Sharon. Rachel wasn’t like her, of course, but it was natural to be a little gun shy after that. Maybe part of me even worried still that Sharon was right. That no one else would, could love me the way she’d claimed to. Not even Rachel.

“Do you want to come in?” Rachel asked, looking at me with serious eyes, dark blue and gray like the sea. I knew she was inviting me to sleep with her again—our first time just us two since that day in her office. If I couldn’t tell her I loved her, maybe I could show her with my body instead. I nodded, following her inside.

Realistically, it wasn’t likely anyone would hear us from the main house all the way out here. But after spending a whole day with Rachel’s family, somehow we both felt the need to keep quiet, whispering our desires as we shed our clothes and tumbled together into her bed. That illusion of danger, the unfounded worry that maybe we could get caught, heightened the heat between us. I was so hard, ready for her faster than I’d ever been, my cock aching to be inside her again. Rachel was absolutely soaked when I dipped my hand into her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” I breathed against her dark hair as I found the tiny nub that was the center of her pleasure. Rachel sighed sweetly and gripped the back of my head, pulling me into her neck, urging me to kiss her sensitive collarbones. I sucked and licked her there as I rubbed circles into her clit, breathing in her scent, breathing out the four-letter word I felt like a phantom limb.

Rachel came so easily, so softly for me. Whimpering, writhing against the bed. I wanted to give her more, have her come again against my mouth as I relished the way her pussy tasted, but she stopped me when I started to move lower.

“I love when you kiss me,” she told me, her cheeks visibly pink even in the dimness. “But I need to feel you inside me now, Wes. Please, make love to me.”

That phrase was like a knife to my heart. She didn’t know how true it was. How badly I wanted to love her fully, always and forever. But she did know how badly I wanted her in this way. She reached for my erection, her soft hand on my shaft feeling like heaven and sin all at once.

“Anything for you,” I told her, and in another few seconds, I was lying on top of her, our fronts pressed firmly together as I slid home inside her perfect pussy.

It struck me as strange that we’d never had sex this way—classic missionary, face-to-face, underrated for its intimacy and the depth my cock could reach when she was beneath me. How odd, I thought as I pumped slowly inside her, that we’d only really had sex a few times. It felt like we’d been doing this forever. Like we were born to do this. I kissed Rachel’s mouth as I fucked her slowly, taking my time, reveling in the sweetness of her wet heat enveloping me.

When she came apart again, moaning into my mouth and digging her nails into my ass, I had no choice but to follow her over the cliff’s edge. She murmured sweet nothings as I spurted inside her, telling me how much she loved being filled with my cum, how good I felt inside her, how badly she’d needed this all day.

As we drifted off to sleep together, I imagined what it’d be like to have this with her every night. To live and die to the sounds of Rachel Henning’s moans for the rest of my life, whether they were sounds I caused her to make or ones she gave to Sawyer and Roman. Either way, what bliss.