Two Purple Gloves (A Pear Street Christmas #2)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Mouth open, tongue out, Angel.”

LISA

Lunch. Done .

Supplies I need for the Christmas Party. Bagged up and waiting by the front door .

Boys. Entertained, fed, watered, and on their best behaviour .

Cheese, crackers, and fruit for late-night supper. Cheese out of the fridge and in the garage, crackers out and arranged prettily on platters, fruit prepared and in bowls .

Bar. Cleaned down, restocked, and ready for tonight .

Christmas stockings. Hung .

Presents from Santa. Wrapped and hidden at the back of my wardrobe for us to bring down after the kids have gone to sleep .

Guests. Mostly happy apart from the one crying in the bathroom .

“M andy? It’s Lisa, are you okay?” I knock lightly on the bathroom door, hearing the sniffing on the other side.

“You must think I’m a complete mess,” she snivels. “I’ve just come into your home at Christmas, when you have a house full, made a scene, then run to the bathroom to cry.”

“I don’t think you’re a mess,” I assure her, feeling emphatically sorry for Jake’s sister. “I think you’re going through something and could probably use a friend.”

“You don’t know me,” she says, almost too quietly for me to hear through the door. It’s not an angry statement, just a sad one .

“I feel like I do sometimes,” I chuckle. “Jake is one of my best friends and he talks about you a lot. I’ve heard so many stories about you and I feel like I know your taste and style just from helping him pick out birthday and Christmas gifts over the years.”

“I knew he wasn’t finding all those things on his own,” she grumbles, making me laugh.

“I mean, he did most of the work, I was just there for moral support.”

The lock of the door clicks, and it opens to reveal a red, mascara-stained face. “I’m so sorry John isn’t coming, I’m sure that’s messed up your catering plans.”

I laugh again. “Oh honey, I’m cooking for twenty people, one more or one less makes no difference at this point. Plus, Harry and Jake usually polish off enough for two people each anyway, so…”

I trail off and she gives me a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “I really am sorry.”

I lean on the door frame as she splashes cold water on her face at the sink. “Please don’t apologise. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, searching for strength. “I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s not true.”

She shakes her head as she rips tiny pieces off the tissue she’s holding in a tight grasp. “I found out last week, while my parents were visiting. That was humiliating enough without my mother telling me to ignore it for the sake of the children.”

I wince. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “He’s an arsehole; I don’t know why I stayed for as long as I did.”

I give her a sad smile. She might mean what she’s saying but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “What do you need?”

She shakes her head again. “Nothing, it’s fi— ”

“Mandy.” I level her with a serious stare. “What do you need?”

She swallows and actually thinks for a second. “Uh, a normal Christmas. Not to talk about it with everyone. To have a buffer between me and my mother the whole time.”

“Considerate it done.”

She lets out a deep breath. “Thank you, Lisa. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re more than welcome. And hey, I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but if you ever decide you do want someone to talk to, or talk at, you’ve got an ear to bend right here.”

“Thank you,” she repeats, before looking down, brows furrowing in thought. “Actually, could I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What would you do?” I frown, not sure what she’s asking. “If it was Harry. What would you do if he broke your family and your home? Would you leave?”

I puff out a long breath. I try to get my imagination running but no matter how I play it out, I can’t see Harry doing that to us. “I-I don’t know.”

She nods as though she expected that answer. “Do you ever feel like just packing up and leaving? Starting again somewhere new? Like, when you argue or something.”

I think on that for a moment. Sure, I imagine a new life on golden sands, or in a beautiful cabin in the middle of the forest somewhere. The thing is, even in my deepest imaginings, the toes next to mine dipping in the ocean are Harry’s. The cabin is a beautiful home that Harry designed for us. My marriage isn’t perfect, recent miscommunications a sure representation of that, but outside of a few barked leave me alone s when tempers have been frayed, we haven’t had raging arguments. Definitely nothing that’s left me wanting to get away. “Honestly, we don’t really argue.”

She huffs out an unamused laugh. “Sure.” Slumping down to sit on the closed toilet seat, she continues abusing the tissue in her hands. “I don’t know what to do. My kids’ lives are rooted in Australia; their friends, school, everything. All I had over there was John. I’m a stay-at-home Mum, I have no money of my own, the house is in his name, the only friends I have are the wives of his business associates. I-I have nothing, Lisa. Nothing .”

I crouch in front of her in the limited space our downstairs loo affords and put both hands on her knees. “Mandy, it might not seem like it right now, but that’s not true. No matter what happens, you have two beautiful children, your parents love you, and your brother would literally do anything for you.” She sniffs and wipes stray tears away. “You might not have everything you had two weeks ago, but you have a lot. And you have a friend.” I squeeze her knees slightly and she looks up to give me a watery smile. “Everything is too raw right now, just do what you need to do to enjoy Christmas. Bask in having your family around, enjoy the crappy British weather—” She gives a genuine laugh. “—and then you can take a look at things from a little distance.”

“We’re really friends?” she asks with so much vulnerability it makes me want to wrap her in my gingerbread print blanket and feed her hot coco like a little Christmas burrito.

“I’m giving you my number and you’re going to use it,” I tell her.

There’s a gentle knock on the door frame and we both look up to see Jake looking down with an apologetic smile. “You okay, Bambi?”

“Sorry I snapped at you,” Mandy grumbles, teasingly ungracious in her apology.

“I’m sorry I pushed and got douchey about your wank stain of a husband,” he says with an equally teasing attitude.

Nel pops up behind his shoulder and shoots a sympathetic smile at her future sister-in-law. “According to the itinerary, the bar doesn’t open until five, but I’m more than happy to sneak you a cocktail if you need it?”

“That’s sweet of you, but I think I can hold out until the official opening time. ”

“Okay,” Nel says, her hand coming round to squeeze Jake’s bicep. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

“Holy shit!” Mandy gasps. “You’re engaged?”

Jake looks back at Nel and the two of them smile sweetly. “We were going to tell you as soon as you got here.” He turns back to his sister. “But then I upset you…”

“You didn’t upset me,” Mandy sighs but then bucks up with excitement. “Oh my god! I can’t believe my little brother is getting married!” She pulls the happy couple in for a hug and I slink away, leaving them to it.

Harry is in the lounge, Mary on his lap as he listens to whatever Pam is saying with polite interest. I catch his eye from the doorway and jerk my head to signal for him to join me. “Excuse me a second,” he says gently, placing Mary with my dad and following me into the hall. As soon as we’re out of view, I fling my arms around him and bring him to me for a long and needy kiss. My hands mess up his hair while his land on my arse, squeezing and kneading.

“What was that for?” he asks, breathless as we pull away.

“Being the best husband.”

“If you say so.” He dips again to peck at my lips. “How unhospitable would it be to escape upstairs for an hour?”

My smile grows against his wondering mouth. “Extremely.”

“How opposed are you to being unhospitable?”

“DAD!” The frustrated cry comes from the living room before I’m able to answer that. “Dad! Lucas isn’t sharing!”

I hear my mother try to intervene, but the boys start arguing loud enough to ruin any mood we’d been creating in this little bubble of ours. “I swear they’re doing this on purpose,” Harry grumbles, releasing me and heading back into the living room to break up whatever fight the boys are about to have and I huff a laugh to myself.

The Christmas party at the village hall is a tradition I started only a couple of years ago. Last year I had live reindeer and Santa and carollers and it was magical. It was hard to top that this year, but I was able to convince a local Christmas tree farm to donate an incredible twenty-foot tree that we’ve made the centre piece of our décor.

We went round local businesses collecting donations for an incredible raffle. As well as Santa and Mrs Claus, there’s an elf station where kids can help decorate Christmas cookies and wrap them up to give as presents tomorrow. I’m pretty pleased with my efforts and as I plan on quitting the committee after the holiday, I don’t have to try and outdo myself next year. I just wish luck upon whoever takes up the mantle, although I’m fairly confident they won’t beat me.

I arrive early along with Nel and Jake who look amazing dressed as Mr and Mrs Claus. Nel’s costume is as modest as they come with a long skirt nearly to the floor and a buttoned-up jacket all in red velvet with white trim to match Santa. Jake remembered to wear a t-shirt this year to save himself from prickly heat under the stuffing for his fake belly and they both a have a change of clothes so they can join the festivities when they’re done playing dress up.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this again.”

“It’s no trouble, we enjoyed it,” Jake says, taking his place on the chair.

I look at Nel, who’s less enthused but manages a small smile. “At least my arse isn’t hanging out.”

“We’re all very disappointed about that.” Jake sighs and she rolls her eyes at him.

“Yes, I sold twice as many tickets this year,” I say with a straight face. “I think word got round and all the dads who couldn’t make it last year, found time to join us tonight.”

Nel gapes and Jake suddenly doesn’t seem so jovial. “What?” he snaps.

I just wink at Nel and walk away, letting her know I was only teasing…kind of. Harry arrives with the rest of our guests when the doors open to ticket holders. He’s changed into a smart black shirt, but he’s left the first two buttons undone so I can see the dip of his collar bone. And he’s rolled the sleeves to his elbows, showing the tanned skin and light du sting of golden hair on his exceptional forearms. Honestly, forearms, such an underrated body part. Lucas and Oscar are either side of him, holding his hands and chatting animatedly while my mum carries Mary.

I wave them over, hugging my boys as they run to me and give Harry my cheek to kiss to avoid lipstick smudges. Mary, completely on brand, ignores me as she studies Mum’s sparkly necklace.

It takes little time for the hall to fill, people eating, drinking, and being merry. Mulled wine and sugar cookies are plentiful, the carollers are jubilant in their rendition of Ding Dong Merrily on High complete with jingle bells keeping rhythm. The kids are soon distracted with all the other children running around in a Christmas Eve induced excited stupor.

Harry keeps the parents company, being his usual charming self while I mingle and check in with all the volunteers and facilitators. Everyone tells me how well the evening’s going, how beautiful the decorations are, how great I am. I’m feeling good. Which is why I pull Harry away from the crowd with mumbled excuses about needing help with the buffet, but instead of taking him to the kitchen where the food is waiting to be put out, I lead him to the utility cupboard. The room is small and shelving units line three of the walls, it’s neat and tidy and smells of the floral cleaner they use here.

“I’m having déjà vu.” Harry smirks at me.

“Hmm.” I close the door and lean back against it. “Except this time—” I slide the deadbolt at my back to secure the door, “—we’re locked in. No interruptions.”

His brow arches. “I like the sound of that.” When I step toward him, a nervous flutter in my belly, I stroke my silver sparkling dress over my hips, and he smiles softly. “You look beautiful tonight, Angel.”

My head shakes on autopilot. “Harry, you don’t have to do that.”

His frown makes my nerves ramp up. “Do what?”

“Try to butter me up. ”

“Hey,” he says, crooking a finger under my chin. “I don’t say things to butter you up, I tell you what I see, how I feel, and why I love you because I want you to know how amazing you are.” I try to look away, but he holds me steady. “And you do look beautiful, tonight and every night.”

He dips his head and kisses me, it’s sweet, loving. With his kiss, he reiterates his words, he tells me that he loves me, that I’m beautiful, that I’m amazing and I eat it up. Letting those positive encouragements sink into my soul and heal what I’ve been slowly breaking with my own self-criticism for months.

My hands roam, palm flat to his chest and down to the solid curvatures of his abdomen. I keep going until I have a handful of him, his thick length stiffening in my palm. A firm squeeze has him jerking in my touch, his kiss turning rough, greedy, and invasive. All in the best possible way. I work his buckle without taking my lips from his, opening his trousers and pushing them down greedily, with no patience.

“Lis, what are you—”

“I want to make you feel good, Harry. Like you always make me feel good.”

I don’t even let the clicking sound my knees make when I lower to them make me feel old, because I’m about to suck my husband off in a cleaning cupboard with a crowd of people just the other side of the door. It’s like all those rebellious things I didn’t do in my twenties have rolled into one big salacious act to make me wet and wanting.

“Lisa, you don’t have to do this.” Harry’s voice is rough as he looks down at me.

I don’t answer with words, instead taking the tip of him between my lips and sucking gently. His head falls back on a moan and his shoulders slump against the wall. I’m wearing a deep red lipstick that I know will look good against his skin, leaving a smear as I suck him down then pull away from his length. Before I can release him completely, he holds the back of my head and keeps me in place with my lips wrapped delicately around the tip of him. I squirm where I kneel, rubbing my thighs together in the hopes to feel just a fraction of the friction I need on my buzzing clit. This is what I’ve wanted. Needed. Harry taking control, manhandling me to keep me where he wants me. Taking his pleasure without constraint and giving me mine by doing so.

“You’re not to come off my cock until I come, baby. Understand?”

Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff. I nod, looking up at him through my mascara laden lashes.

“Such a good little wife for me.” He punctuates that spicy little statement with a forceful thrust that has his length burying itself in my throat.

I splutter and gag, just a little, but it only makes my thighs wetter and my nipples tingle. I have lists of lists, I’ve spent weeks planning our perfect family Christmas, I run down my plan for each day at night when I can’t sleep, and I’ve followed a minute-by-minute schedule to keep everything running smoothly. But when Harry has his fist in my hair and his cock in my mouth, I don’t have to think about any of that. When he tells me how beautiful I am with saliva dribbling down my chin from him fucking my face, I can only focus on that and not the snowstorm of thoughts that usually occupy my head.

“Fuck, Lis. You make me feel so good.” His grip loosens in my hair, and he bring his fingers down to stroke my face gently, reverently as he continues to buck his hips to my waiting lips. “So pretty.”

With my nose pressed to his pubic bone, I swallow around him, and he grunts. He’s close, the thickening against my tongue and the way his rhythm falters a sure sign, eyes squeezed shut in a last-ditch attempt to make this last longer. Opening his eyes, Harry looks down on me and pulls free.

“Mouth open, tongue out, Angel.”

Of course, I obey waiting patiently as he grips himself almost violently. He doesn’t need to stroke or coax his cum out, with two taps on my extended tongue he shoots off. Salty drops hit the roof of my mouth and drip to the back of my throat, I don’t swallow, holding everything he gives me in my mouth until he’s finished, panting and relaxed but not quite sated. Hooking his thumb into my mouth, he presses at my tongue until I’m forced to swallow, and he can watch his orgasm wash away down my throat.

“God, I love to see that,” he rasps. I smile up at him, loving the look of adoration and pure hunger on his face.

“I love you,” I tell him, feeling those words to my core in this moment.

Harry smiles back and holds out his hands to help me up, bringing me to him for a kiss so perfect I turn to jelly. When he starts pulling my dress up, I tut with amusement and push away to shuffle it back in place.

“I’ve been missing long enough. We need to get back out there.”

“Lisa,” he growls. “That was the best head I’ve had in my life, let me return the damn favour.”

That has me laughing as I pull up to plant another kiss on his lips. “Later, Frosty.”