A Christmas Affair

The sexiest smile slid across Lyfe’s lips a fraction before his head descended.

The two seconds it took for their mouths to connect felt more like a lifetime, however, the reward was well worth the wait. That underlining sweetness she remembered was still there, but there was also so much more.

More power.

More richness.

This was not the kiss of puppy love. This was a kiss of a confident man who knew how to do manly things.

Weightless and suspended in what felt like an alternative time and place. In his arms, she was grace and beauty … and love. Just like that. As if there hadn’t been more than a dozen years since they’d been in each other’s arms melting from each other’s kisses. At the heart … there was still a strong foundation of love.

There was no room for reason and reality at this moment. The past didn’t matter and tomorrow was just too far away for her to be concerned about. All that mattered was right here and right now.

In no time at all, she was returning his kiss with the same fierce hunger that he was trying to devour her with. When she heard a deep growl rumble from his chest, a surge of power surged through Corona. Her ego couldn’t help but inflate at the realization that she still had power over him. She could do whatever she wanted with him, right here and right now.

A Christmas Affair

ESSENCE BESTSELLING AUTHOR

Adrianne Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

December 16, 1998 Dear Diary,

Tonight I, Corona Mae Banks, became a woman.

We did it. I can’t believe it, but we finally did it. After dating since the seventh grade, Lyfe Alton and I have finally done it. I’m no longer a girl but a woman. I wonder if everyone is going to notice a difference in me tomorrow. You know that they say that women walk differently after they … well, you know. (LOL) Anyway, I know that you want all the details—and it’s not like I’d ever hide anything from you. So let me set the scene. As you know, Mom and Daddy headed out to Lagrange for Uncle Gary’s hoedown Christmas party. They’ve been planning on it for weeks. Well, that left me to babysit Tess (like always). Once I got her to stop bumping her gums, and to actually go to sleep, I called Lyfe over. Let me tell you, he must have been circling the place because he was here in like three minutes flat.

It was still enough time for me to get a fire going in the fireplace, put the radio on the Quiet Storm—that’s the program where they play nothing but slow jams—and sneak out one of Daddy’s beers for him and one of Momma’s wine coolers for me. When Lyfe tapped on the back sliding-glass door, I almost didn’t hear him. But when I turned to see his tall frame (he’s now six-four, can you believe it?) standing back there with snow flurries in his head, my heart melted. His shoulders looked like they were expanding a half an inch every day and there’s just something about his milk-chocolate skin that makes me want to lick him every time I see him.

He’s soooo fine—I swear that he could be a model or actor instead of a farmer. Heck. He could even be an architect. I’ve seen a lot of his drawings. He’s really talented. He could really get out and see the world. I know that’s what I want to do.

But a farmer? I still can’t believe that’s what he wants, but it’s what his father does and he loves and admires his father. That breaks my heart just a little bit because that means he’ll never leave Thomason, Georgia.

What’s worse is that he’d want me to stay here with him. Don’t get me wrong, I love Lyfe—always have and always will—but I can’t wait for the day I leave this Mayberry-wannabe town. All I’d have to look forward to would be jarring peach preserves, milking cows and birthing a whole village of babies. I mean, c’mon, Lyfe is the youngest of six. SIX!

Don’t get me wrong. I now know that making seven babies with Lyfe will be rather … wonderful. *Sigh*

Okay. I’m getting ahead of myself. I was telling you about how our whole evening went down. First, I let my Boo into the house and then immediately took him over to the nice spot I had arranged in front of the fireplace. There, he asked a few questions about how it was putting up with my Energizer Bunny sister and when I started answering him, he started nibbling on my ear.

“Ooh, honey. That tickles.” I giggled, but snuggled closer.

Lyfe responded by gathering me closer. Soon after, his lips stopped tickling and started feeling more like paradise. There’s this spot just at the juncture of my neck and collarbone that is … giiiiiirrrrl. My toes are curling just thinking about it.

Before I know it, we’re butt-naked and lying down on my father’s God-awful bearskin rug. Well, at least it was soft. I can’t say the same thing for Lyfe. (LOL)

My Boo was hard all over. And at his height, that’s a lot of hard chocolate.

But Diary, he is soooo beautiful. His body deserves to be sculpted in granite and shown at all the major art museums for the world to just marvel at. Meanwhile, I’m the only woman who gets to feel the real deal. And let me tell you. It’s something to behold. And he smells so damn good—and clean. He’s not loaded down with cologne or aftershave. He just smells like Ivory soap. Who knew that that could be a turn on?

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Lyfe asked. It was an awkward question to ask now that he had made it all the way to third base. Any other guy, particularly his older brothers, would “act” first and “talk” second—or just skip the talking all together.

This was it.

The big moment.

He was naked.

I was naked. But suddenly there was this massive lump in the center of my throat and I couldn’t get any words out. To say, “yes,” meant that I couldn’t turn back.

At my silence, he quickly added, “I mean … I completely understand if you’ve changed your mind.”

I heard what he was saying but his eyes and body were practically begging for me not to change my mind. I smiled up at him. “Are you nervous?”

“What? Who? Me?” he squeaked.

My lips stretched wider as I grew more relaxed. “Yeah—you.”

“No. Of course not. Don’t be silly,” his voice squeaked so high this time that it cracked. He quickly coughed to cover it up, but the damage had already been done.

I struggled but I didn’t laugh. “Actually, I kind of like it that you’re a little nervous.” “You do?” he asked, astonished.

I nodded. “I’m nervous, too—and since this is our first time, why not be nervous together?”

A corner of Lyfe’s lips hitched up and a good number of my butterflies settled down.

“Why not?” He turned his head and pressed a kiss against the palm of my hand before meeting my gaze with the same intensity I leveled on him.

My thick, wavy long hair was spread about my head like a black halo. “Do you know that your skin has a natural starburst of mahogany in your cheeks?”

“It does?”

He nodded, staring at me like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“And I love your eyes,” he said.

“You do?”

“Yeah. They get me every time. They’re a beautiful mosaic of colors that could easily seduce any man.”

“Stop it.”

“No. I’m being serious,” he insisted. “They’re a burnt brown when you’re angry, light sienna when you’re happy and simmering amber when you’re excited or turned on—just like they are right now.”

I blushed so hard it felt like a Nevada heat wave.

The three previous times that we had gotten that far or close to “doing it,” Lyfe claimed that he had already familiarized himself with every curve and dip on my luscious body. (That’s what he called it—LUSCIOUS!)

He said that he liked my little black beauty mark beneath my right cheek and even the small scar above my right knee that I’d gotten on a bad slide into home base when I was nine years old. (Of course he was the one that was blocking the plate!) Anyway, he said that it was the small things that make me perfect. ME—PERFECT. I could just die.

Lyfe Alton is the most romantic man in all of Georgia.

“I’m sure,” I said, panting and fluttering my lashes up at him. “I want to do this.” There are just no words to describe how his strong chest felt against my breasts—other than paradise, but I’ve used that word already.

As much as he wanted to play it cool and act like he knew what he was doing, I knew that he was just as scared as I was. After all, this was his first time, too. Last year, he kept saying that he wanted to wait until he was married to have sex. It is, after all, what my father always preaches. But this year, the last thing we’ve been thinking about is what was being said on Sunday mornings.

He told me that he’d been dreaming of this moment for a long time. He’d practiced poetic words in front of the mirror like a love-sick puppy. He’d endured endless teasing from his five older brothers, usually after being caught talking—or doing other things—while imagining a night just like this one.

I cupped the other side of Lyfe’s face with my hands. “Did you hear me? I’m really ready this time. I’m not going to change my mind.”

Lyfe blinked and then struggled to swallow the boulder in his throat. This was really about to happen. I could feel his heart galloping inside his chest. How long had he dreamed of this moment? Since sixth, seventh grade? He said he couldn’t remember anymore—just like he was struggling to remember all the pointers his older brothers had given him for when such a moment arrived.

“Condoms,” he blurted. “We’re supposed to use condoms.” Panicked, he glanced around to where he’d kicked off his jeans. After scrambling to retrieve them, he pulled out a sleeve of four condoms—but they sort of looked … old.

“How long have those been in there?” I asked, frowning.

“Not long,” he said, shrugging. “About a year … or so.”

I don’t know. I had a feeling that when we opened one that a dust cloud was going to float out.

A single worry line creased my forehead. Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out—again. But I couldn’t do that to him this time. After all, it wasn’t the first time that we had gotten this far—not the first time that I’d told him that I was ready only to then stop him at the last possible second and announce that I’d changed my mind. Each time, I’d apologized profusely while he struggled to get his dick back into his pants so that he could limp home and take another cold shower. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” I asked. He was taking a long time about opening the condom.

“Of course I haven’t changed my mind,” he said. “I just want to make sure that you’re really, really sure this time.” He kept my gaze trapped as he vainly tried to swallow his own Adam’s apple. “Are you sure?”

My lips spread into another smile while my hands reached for the condom. I boldly ripped the sucker open and then reached over and rolled it over his erection. My hands were trembling so bad. But as hard as he was, his dick still felt like smooth silk. (And it kept growing against my hand.) After fumbling around with it for about a minute, Lyfe finally reached down and helped roll the rest of it on. By that time, I’m wondering if I’m going to be able to fit all of him in. Surely something that big is going to hurt.

He must’ve heard my thoughts because the next thing Lyfe was saying was, “I heard that it should only hurt for like a few seconds and then it goes away.”

A few seconds? Please. He was talking to a girl who’s still afraid of needles. Again, I’m thinking about backing out, but a little voice inside of me keeps saying, “You can do this.”

“You’re still okay with this?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?” I lean up and brush a kiss against his lips and then I’m just lost. (I’ve told you countless times before about how good Lyfe tastes, and tonight was no different.) At some point, I reach out and boldly wrap my hand around his throbbing dick, and I swear nearly every ounce of air fled that boy’s lungs.

Suddenly I was filled with this amazing power. It was like I could do anything and everything I wanted with him and he was going to let me do it. I can’t even tell you all the things that raced through my mind, things that shocked and excited me at the same time.

While my sanity slipped a few notches, a sly smile hitched the corners of my lips. “Does that feel good?” I asked.

“I … I … Yes,” he blurted. He closed his eyes and I could tell he was trying to will himself not to come before we even got started. We both had heard about that happening to a few of our friends on their first time. That’s one humiliation that I think he could live without. But he continued to struggle with it while I slid my hands over his erection with long, fluid strokes.

To make matters worse, tears started glossing his eyes. Truly. I think it was feeling so good to him that he nearly started crying. Sure, it wouldn’t have been the manly thing to do, but I can’t help but think that it would’ve been sweet. *Sigh*

Anyway. He didn’t cry. But he definitely leveled the playing field when he reached down in between our bodies and slid one of his fingers through the soft hairs between my legs. Talk about being shocked. The air hissed out of my body like a flat tire. And when he started rubbing the pad of his finger against my pulsing clit, OH. MY. GOD!

I sucked in a quick breath and thrust my tits higher into the air. My reaction was clearly a pleasant surprise to him because he got this big ole smile on his face. So he stuck in another finger and started twirling them around even faster.

Each time his finger went from the tip of my clit to the base, my sighs heightened, my head tossed faster, and my thighs quivered like a 9.0 earthquake. Focusing on my pleasure allowed him to gain control over his own body—but not for long.

My hands stopped gliding and started pumping. In no time, his toes were curling. “How about this?” I asked. My competitive side had finally come out to play.

I never thought that sex could turn into a competition, but I’m here to testify that it definitely can. At first, I was compelled to win, but then Lyfe’s fingers hit a certain spot and I was ready to wave a white flag of surrender and let him do whatever the hell he wanted to do with my body. I just didn’t care.

Is that bad for me to say? Does that make me some kind of ho?

Then, within a snap of a finger, Lyfe started crying out, “Oh, God!”

I peeked out through my lashes to see that his eyes looked like they were ready to roll out the back of his head. Hell, I’m not even too sure that he was even breathing.

I know that Lyfe is no stranger to the art of masturbation (he’s told me plenty of times about how his mother has nearly walked in on him). But I have a feeling that his large, heavy hands are a poor substitute for my soft, delicate ones, which were currently driving him wild.

“You like this, don’t you, baby?” I asked, leaning up and brushing a kiss against his neck. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It … feels … wonderful,” he panted. “Just don’t … stop.” He planted his hands on both sides of my head and started to rock his hips, as his cock slid in and out of my hand.

“I’m not going to stop this time,” I whispered against his ear. “I promise.” With that, I rained more kisses down the column of his neck and then blew a long steady stream of air against his ear.

“Oh, God, yes.” Lyfe quickly sucked in a deep breath and reminded himself aloud not to come too soon again.

I pulled back, allowing Lyfe to unglue his eyes from the back of his head.

“I’m ready,” I said. “I want my first time to be with you.” I leaned up again, keeping my eyes open as I brushed my lips against his. “Tonight.”

While still holding his gaze, I glided his erection closer to the center of my body.

“Is this it?” he asked, jamming his cock dead into my thigh.

“Ow. No.” I shook my head and then tried not to laugh out loud. “That is definitely not it.”

He struggled to reposition himself while I take hold of his cock again and tried to get him a little closer. But before I could get him to the right spot, he surged his hips forward again and jammed up against the wrong hole.

“OWWW.” I nearly jumped up off the floor.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

The worried look on his face was just priceless. We tried it again, but I warned him, “Don’t do anything until I get you at the right spot.”

Sheepishly, he nodded and waited like a good boy until I eased the head of his cock between my lower lips. Then … this was it. The big moment. I drew in a deep breath, wanting to savor the last few seconds of my virginity. I wanted to be cognizant of the fact that I was going from being a girl to a woman.

“Now?” Lyfe asked, jittery with anticipation. Even his eyes looked fever pitched.

“Now,” I told him and then planted a big wet kiss on him.

He surged forward.

“Ahh.” I tore my lips away just as quickly and sank my nails deep into his shoulder blades.

Lyfe hissed in his own shock and froze. “Did I do something wrong?” For a few seconds, he remained completely and utterly still, except for his throbbing cock pulsing inside of me.

I wasn’t sure if I was okay or not. I was halfway embarrassed and halfway scared that I needed a doctor. I thought he might’ve broken something.

At long last, he pulled his head up to search my face. “Are you all right? Do you want to stop?”

If I said yes, I knew that he would be in an iced shower for at least a week. He continued to hold his breath until I mustered up my courage. “N-no. I’m okay,” I panted.

“Are you sure?” The minute the question was out, I could tell that he wanted to smack himself over the head. Why keep looking a gift horse in the mouth?

I eased on a soft smile and then slid my hands down to his strong, muscled ass. “I’m absolutely positive,” I whispered. Clearly, it was my turn to take charge. I dipped and rolled my hips, easing him in deeper.

Lyfe struggled to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head again. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on mine as he started to move inside of me again. Somehow, in some unexplainable way, my body heat penetrated his soul. At least it felt that way as wave after wave of pleasure washed over us. Our hips moved in sync and, within a few glorious strokes, we were filling the living room with soft sighs and moans. We’d done it. We’d officially made the leap from mere high school boyfriend and girlfriend to full-fledged lovers, and it was clear that neither one of us was sorry.

While we rode high, I knew that this was a moment to be savored and forever etched into our memories. I watched as the flittering light from the fireplace danced across his dewy skin, and gloated while his lower lip quivered between strokes and low baritone moans.

“Ohh, Lyfe,” I panted. I was more in love with him at that moment than I’ve ever been. Our pants and moans blended together like a beautiful duet.

Soon after, he swept more kisses down the column of my neck while whispering, “I love you so much, Corona Mae. I’m yours forever. I’m here, baby. Tell me what you want—what you need.”

Hell, all I needed was for him to keep doing what he was doing.

I rolled my hips a third and then a fourth time. I was getting warmer and wetter with each stroke. It seemed like a whole new world was opening up to me and I was greedy to see and feel more. Is this how it always is with sex? Or am I feeling these things because I’m in love with Lyfe?

“Whoa … whoa … wait … wait … “ Lyfe gasped and then bit his lower lip. I could tell that it was just an attempt to regain control of his deteriorating willpower. Mercifully, I eased up and gave him all of fifteen seconds to try to regroup. As he opened his eyes, I was once again overwhelmed not only by the passion flickering in them but by the intensity of love that danced there as well.

With renewed confidence, Lyfe surged his hips forward and watched my expressions with fascination. His strokes were gentle, but he made sure that they grew longer and deeper.

“How does it feel, baby?” Lyfe asked. His lips stretched wide as he watched me struggle to answer. After a few more strokes, his cockiness evaporated and his toes curled tight. “Oh, God,” he groaned and then dropped his head against the crook of my neck where he breathed in my scent and lazily dusted more kisses across my collar bone and then down the valley between my breasts.

“Mmm. You smell and taste like honey and cinnamon.”

“Oh, Lyfe,” I moaned, digging my nails into the tender flesh of his muscled shoulders. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I have no intentions of ever stopping. You’re mine now.”

Diary, I felt like I was really losing my mind. But through the fuzzy mesh of my eyelashes I could see that in his quest to give me pleasure, he was steadily marching himself right over a cliff. Things started tingling in places that I can’t even risk writing to you. But just know that it was all so wonderful.

Lyfe’s breath came in short, choppy puffs. Before long, he was completely and utterly lost.

I started slipping into a vortex of pleasure. It became increasingly hard to keep air in my lungs while my body was being assaulted with all these wonderful sensations. Our moans grew into a crescendo that drowned out Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” playing on the radio.

I cried out and then started trembling violently. Above me, Lyfe unleashed a growl that sounded like something out of the jungles of Africa. A half a second later there was a bright light and then we were floating in a galaxy of stars. It was the most beautiful thing ever.