Big girls do it on chris.., p.1
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       Big Girls Do It on Christmas, p.1

         Part #6 of Big Girls Do It series by Jasinda Wilder
 
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Big Girls Do It on Christmas


  Contents

  Copyright

  Big Girls Do It On Christmas

  Also By

  Big Girls Do It On Christmas

  (c) Copyright 2012 Jasinda Wilder

  All rights reserved.

  www.jasindawilder.com

  I took a deep breath and lifted the mic to my lips. "I would like to welcome everyone to the Whitney for Governor Warner's holiday party. My name is Anna Cartwright, and this is my husband, Jeff." I gestured to my right, where Jeff stood with his hands behind his back, looking sexy as ever in a trim, tailored steel-gray suit. "We're the DJs for this evening. We'll be doing a couple of special performances, and we'll also be taking song requests. I hope everyone has fun, and I'd like to wish you all a Merry Christmas and happy holidays. Thank you."

  There was polite applause from the crowd, about four or five hundred people, I estimated. After I lowered the mic, Jeff pushed the volume back up, and "A Holly Jolly Christmas" started up.

  Jeff and I had been asked by the governor to DJ his holiday party. It was a huge honor for us, and a testament to how far we'd come as a DJ team. We'd taken to performing more frequently during our DJ gigs, and word of our high-energy performances had spread, it seemed. Our gigs went from being karaoke at local dive bars to DJing private events and parties thrown by wealthy individuals. This holiday party by the governor was by far the largest and most upscale crowd we'd worked before, and Jeff and I were understandably excited and more than a little nervous. The party had just started, and our first duet wasn't scheduled for another twenty-five minutes, but I was already feeling the pre-performance jitters.

  I was also antsy for another reason, a secret I was keeping from Jeff. I planned to tell him later that night, at the hotel. I just hoped he'd take it well. I wasn't entirely sure, though. I mean, he was Jeff, and not much fazed him, but this was big news. It wasn't time yet, so I pushed it away to focus on the job at hand.

  "Great intro, baby," Jeff said in my ear, squeezing my hand. "I've got the next few songs queued up, so we're good to go for a few minutes."

  I smiled at him and squeezed his hand back, too full of a million butterflies to formulate a proper response. Of course, Jeff being Jeff, he caught on.

  "What's up? You okay?" he asked, his rich brown eyes filling with concern.

  "Yeah--" My voice caught, and I cleared it. "Yeah, just nervous, I guess. This is a big crowd."

  "You'll be fine, sweetness. You know this song backward and forward."

  "No, you're right, I know. I'm fine." I smiled again, but it must have been unconvincing.

  "You sure it's not something else? You don't usually get this nervous for our duets."

  "I'm good. Thanks, babe. I'm fine." I needed something to distract him. "How about something to drink?"

  "Wine? Coke?"

  I hesitated. "No, just some water with lemon, thanks."

  Jeff lifted an eyebrow at me; I hated drinking plain water, and I always had. I drank soda, tea, coffee, beer or wine, never water.

  "Sure, if that's what you want." He shrugged and got me a glass of ice water with a wedge of lemon.

  The minutes passed quickly, people lining up requests for favorite holiday songs, and before I knew it, Jeff was queuing the track for "Baby It's Cold Outside," our first duet.

  My nerves lasted until I hit the first note, and then, as always, they receded until after I was done performing. The crowd was loudly appreciative of our song, which helped. Jeff was eyeing me suspiciously, which didn't. The Governor himself congratulated us on our performance, and requested we play "Carol of the Bells."

  We played the requests, mingled with the crowd, enjoyed the delicious food, and then performed again, this time a harmony-filled version of "Jingle Bell Rock." The night wound down, and we performed one last time: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas."

  Jeff put on a few slower songs and then crossed to stand in the middle of the dance floor, holding out his hand to me. I smoothed my hands down my sides, and the look in my husband's eyes told me how he felt. I was wearing a floor-length evening dress, red satin from the waist down, a striped, shadow-lined bodice with a V-back. It clung to my curves in the right places, belled out in the others. My hair was down and loosely curled, swept back from my face and held in place by a complicated arrangement of bobby pins. I was wearing a simple pair of black flats, a white gold necklace with a teardrop sapphire pendant with matching earrings Jeff had gotten me for our first anniversary. I knew I looked beautiful, and, more importantly, I felt beautiful.

  I crossed the room and took Jeff's hand, let him sweep me into a waltz hold and move around the floor in smooth, slow circles. His hand rested easily on the swell of my hip, the other clasping my hand near our shoulders. Our bodies brushed and touched as we moved, and Jeff's eyes gazed into mine, blazing with affection.

  As happened often, I felt a burst of pure love rush through me, joy at being his wife, his best friend. There were times, lying awake at night while Jeff slept, when I wondered how I had gotten so lucky. He loved me, he took care of me. He protected me and cherished me. I thought back, as I danced with him, to the afternoon when he'd asked me to marry him. If I could go back in time and talk to the me who had hesitated, wondered if I was ready, wondered if I could or should take the huge step and marry him...I would shake her by the shoulders and yell at her, make her say yes, emphatically, a thousand times yes.

  My life could be very neatly split it two parts: before Jeff, and after Jeff.

  Before I accepted his love, and learned how deeply I returned it, my life was dull, lonely, and drab. Empty. I often wondered how I had functioned without Jeff.

  Now, as his wife, everything was bright and vibrant. I felt alive, complete. Even the colors of life, the blue of the sky, the gray of overcast clouds, the green of the grass and leaves and the brown of Jeff's eyes, these seemed brighter. The feel of his hand in mine as we walked, the caress of his lips on mine, on my body at night, I felt these more acutely, as if his love and attention had woken up some long-slumbering part of my very being.

  We finished our dance, by which time the party was over, the governor having paid us and thanked us. Most of the guests had gone by the time Jeff and I had our equipment put away, and then Jeff settled in at an empty table with a glass of wine. I was, again, drinking ice water.

  "You don't want a drink?" Jeff lifted his glass.

  "Nah," I said. "I guess I'm feeling a bit queasy. I had two cupcakes."

  He finished his glass in a couple of big gulps and took my hand. "Well then, let's get back to the hotel."

  We were flying out to Florida in the morning, an early flight so we could spend Christmas Eve with my cousin Miri, my mom and Ed, and my Uncle Stuart and his wife. Jeff's mom and brother were flying down as well, and we were spending Christmas Day with them. Jeff and I were doing our gift exchange with each other that night, in the hotel room.

  The short drive from the Whitney to our hotel was quiet and awkward. Jeff seemed to have picked up on the fact that I had something on my mind, but knew me well enough to know I'd tell him when I was ready.

  We'd checked in earlier in the day and left our luggage in the room, so when we got in, we sat down and traded gifts. Jeff had gotten me a Coach purse I'd been eying for weeks. It was big and black and leather; he knows me well enough to buy a purse for me. You know your man loves you when he can pick out a purse you'd like. I made the appropriate excited noises, and then handed him my gift to him. It was a small package, just a little square box wrapped in silvery paper, but all my nerves were on fire as he opened it.

  Jeff had quizzical expression on his face as he peeled open the paper to reveal a Bulova watch box. I'd seen a couple
of old watches in a box on Jeff's dresser, but he never wore them. He opened the box and pulled out the silver Precisionist watch, grinning.

  "Wow, honey, this is awesome. I love these watches--I just never bought one for myself." He slid it on and clasped it.

  "Um, there's an engraving on the back," I said.

  Jeff took the watch off and peered at the back. Shock rippled over his features. "'To Jeff,'" he read, "'with love on our first Christmas. You are a wonderful husband and an amazing father.'"

  I bit my lip, watching him process the meaning of the engraving.

  He glanced at me, his eyes wide. "Husband and father?" He rubbed his thumb over the writing on the back of the watch. "I'm your husband, but I'm not a father...am I?"

  I nodded, and tried to speak. "Yeah--" My voice caught, and I tried again. "I'm pregnant. Merry Christmas?"

  Jeff's features went through several stages of emotion. Shock, confusion, happiness, fear. "You're pregnant? You're sure?"

  I laughed. "Yes. I took at least a dozen tests. I'm definitely pregnant. I missed my period this month, so I took a test and it came up positive. I didn't want to freak out just yet, so I waited a couple days, and took another. And then another. All positive."

  Jeff rubbed the back of the watch again. "Did you see a doctor?"

  I shook my head. "No, not yet. I wanted to tell you first."

  We'd just celebrated our one-year anniversary a few months ago, and then in November we'd decided I would go off birth control. Not really trying to get pregnant, but not preventing it, either. Apparently for us, "not trying" meant "get pregnant."

  Jeff didn't say anything for a long time. I let him process, knowing he needed to think about things before he'd give me his reaction. I tried not to freak out and assume his lack of immediate joy meant he was upset by it. It wasn't easy to put off that assumption.

  Finally, I couldn't hold it in. "So, what are you thinking?" I couldn't look at him. "Are you...upset?"

  Jeff looked up sharply, then scrambled off the bed to kneel in front of me. "Upset? Baby, no. No." He took my hands in one of his and tipped my chin up to meet my eyes. "Just...surprised, I guess. I mean, I know I shouldn't be, since we stopped the birth control, but I guess I thought..."

  "It would take longer?" I filled in.

  "Yeah." He laughed sheepishly. "I mean, I get that it only takes once, but...I just wasn't expecting it this soon. But I'm happy. I'm thrilled, just...surprised."

  "That's how I felt, too," I said. "Why do you think I took so many tests?"

  "So how far are you? Do you know?"

  I shrugged. "Not exactly. I mean, the first time we made love after stopping the birth control was...seven weeks ago? So, at least that. Maybe less. I'll make an appointment when we get back from Florida."

  "When will we be able to find out the gender? Do you feel okay? Should you put your feet up?"

  I laughed and pushed Jeff backward so he fell onto his back on the floor. "Jeff, I'm barely a month along. I haven't even started feeling sick in the mornings yet. I'm not an invalid. And I have absolutely no clue when we'll know the gender. Not till we're a lot farther along, though, I think." I slid off the chair and crawled to straddle Jeff, staring down into his eyes. "We're having a baby, Jeff. We're going to be parents!"

  He took my face in his hands and kissed me. "We're having a baby, Anna." He laughed, only a little hysterical. "I'm gonna be a daddy. You're gonna be a mommy."

  I moved my hips on his. "I know what your next question is going to be," I said, unbuttoning his dress shirt to slide my hands on his broad, muscular chest, "and yes, we can have as much crazy-hot monkey sex as we want, right up until I give birth. That was the first thing I checked."

  "Are you sure? I saw this Oprah once where they showed the penis hitting the baby in the head."

  I laughed so hard I snorted. "Jeff, honey. Seriously. At this stage, I don't think the baby even has a real head yet. It's like a little bean, I'm pretty sure."

  He slid his hands up my back under my shirt. "I just don't want to hurt you, or the baby."

  I had his shirt off by this point, and slid down to unbutton his pants. "You won't. I promise. Now shut up and take my clothes off."

  Jeff grinned and complied, unzipping my dress and sliding it off, unclasping my bra and tossed it aside so my breasts swayed free over him. He hefted their weight.

  "Does this mean your breasts are going to get bigger?" he asked.

  I wrinkled my nose. "I'm pretty sure this means all of me is going to get bigger, but yes, those will, too."

  He smiled happily and pushed my dress down past my hips, then brought his hands up to cup my ass. "Awesome. Bigger boobies."

  "Aren't they big enough as it is?" I asked, stripping his pants off and settling astride him again. "They're triple Ds! They're almost as big as your head as it is, honey."

  He brushed my nipples with his thumbs. "I love your curves. I can't wait to feel your belly grow, feel little feet kicking." He moved to sit up and guided me to the bed. "You may only be a month or two along, and the baby may not have body parts yet, but I'm not going to have sex with you on the floor while you're pregnant. Not happening."

  I shook my head at him as I took his shaft in my hand and stroked him, gently tugging him toward me. I lay on my back and spread my legs wide, inviting him to me.

  "You're gonna be freaked about every little thing for the next nine months, aren't you?"

  He slid up between my thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them wider as he kissed the inside of my thigh. "Yep. Sure am. I'm probably going to drive you batshit crazy with my worrying by the time this baby is here."

  He traced his tongue along my cleft, inciting a rush of heat and damp desire. I let him taste me, once, twice, his tongue circling my clit, and then I pulled him up to me and kissed him, my essence on his lips.

  "I need you inside me," I said. "Right now."

  He tilted his hips and pushed inside me. I gasped as he filled me, thick steel and hot silk. I clawed my fingers into his shoulders and swiveled my hips to get him deeper.

  "You'll tell me if I--" Jeff started.

  "Shut up and make love to me, Jeff," I said, writhing into him. "I'm not going to break."

  He ignored my plea, sliding into me and back out with a tender delicacy that took my breath away. I was desperate for him, suddenly, but he was determined to be gentle. He was always slow with me, taking his time reaching climax. This, though, this was entirely new. He held all of his weight off me, bracing himself on his forearms next to my head, his knees at my thighs, his hips drifting against me, a breath of skin against skin like a soft summer breeze.

  There was no huffing of breath in my ear, no grinding hips or pulling me fiercely against him, only his cock slipping in and caressing out so sinuously I barely felt the change from in to out. He moved inside me so smoothly it felt like one constant eruption, perpetual motion. Only his hips moved, all the rest of him was perfectly still, as if any slightest jarring would damage me.

  I clutched his shoulders and let him stroke into me, let his overwhelming tenderness flow through me. The first pulse of climax was a gentle rolling press of heat low in my belly. Moments passed in molasses-slow motion, each brush of his shaft into my tight, wet channel feeding the fires in my stomach, spreading the heat down into my thighs as tremors, into my chest as quick gasps.

  I held still for as long as I could, containing my impatience, kept my feet planted, my palms flat on his shoulder blades, my mouth pressed against his arm. He glided and glided, silky smooth, serpentine, settling-silt slow.

  At last I could take it no more and shoved at his shoulder to roll him onto his back, sat on my knees astride his belly, back straight, my heavy breasts now cupped by his hands. I reached between us to grasp his cock, smiling lustfully at the hard heat of him, slicked with my juices and his own, throbbing and thick. I lifted up with my thigh muscles, one hand holding my hair out of my face, guided his tip into my folds and sank down. He fi
lled me, then and I began to move, using only the strength of my thighs, rising and sinking, withdrawing and impaling, locking eyes with him, making a point.

  When burgeoning orgasm stole the power from my legs and forced me to collapse onto his chest, I dug my hands beneath his head and pulled him into a fierce, demanding kiss, grinding my pussy onto him, hard and faster as climax pulled desperation out of me and stretched it into something new, like sexual starvation fulfilled and renewed in a moment-by-moment cycle.

  I swallowed his moans of pleasure with my mouth, swallowed with my quivering folds his plunging shaft, and when he came, I swallowed his seed with my inner walls. He groaned into my mouth, and I matched his vocal release, matched his physical orgasm with my own, shattering apart above him, sobbing spasming breaths into his chest when I couldn't hold myself up anymore, clinging to his neck and fluttering my hips against his with frantic speed.

  When we had both gone still and I was nestled into his shoulder, I let my insecurities out. "You'll still think I'm sexy when I'm pregnant, right?"

  Jeff just laughed. "Anna, you know I will. You are sexy in every moment, all the time. You're sexy when you wake up, no makeup, hair messy, and morning breath. You're sexy when you sleep, and you're sexy when you laugh. You're sexy when you sing, and when you dance. You were beyond sexy tonight in that incredible dress. And when you've got that glow of motherhood, round belly sticking out to here--" he molded his hand over my belly in an imaginary pregnancy bump, "you'll be even sexier."

  I kissed his neck and then his jaw, stroking his chest with my fingertips. "You're sweet."

  "I'm right."

  I laughed. "Okay, baby." We drowsed in the afterglow for a while. "So...names? Just for fun?"

  He chuckled, a sleepy rumble. "Barney."

  I frowned at him. "You're kidding, right?"

  "Yeah, Anna, I'm kidding. You think I'd stick our kid with a name like Barney?" He turned on his side and rested his hand on my hip. "Well, we're not doing a 'Junior,' that's my only rule. No Jeff Junior."

  "No?"

  "Huh-uh. I think it's tacky, personally. I've got no problem with people who do that. I just don't want to."

  "Okay, well, if it's a boy, how about...Orlando?"

 
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