Hold On Tight (Take My Hand) (3 page)

“You’re perfect,” he whispered
into my ear. Smiling against the pillow, I reached behind me and laid my palm
against his cheek.

“I really need to learn to
be quiet,” I confessed, feeling embarrassed now it was all over. “Sarah might
hear us.” Oh dear god, just the thought set my cheeks alight.

“She already has,” he
mumbled. I flipped over immediately, pushing him out of me in the process.

“You’re lying!” I accused,
utterly shamefaced.

“Sorry, doll…’fraid not.”
I stared intently into his deep blue eyes – searching for any flickers of
dishonesty. There were none. His face never faltered. He didn’t blink. He
didn’t smile.

Oh lord…

“She’s an adult, doll. She
knows people have sex,” he explained as if that made it totally okay. Oh god,
had she asked him to tell me to keep it down? “She told me I must be doing
something right in fact,” he said with a wicked smile.

“She didn’t!” At this
point I genuinely didn’t know if he was taking the mick or not. If he was
telling the truth, and she thinks he’s doing ‘something’ right… then she’s
definitely
heard me.

Oh god…

“Relax, doll. She thinks
it’s funny.”

“Well I don’t!” I snapped,
throwing a hand over my flushed face. “I’m mortified!” Dexter just laughed at
me. The arsehole
actually
laughed.
“I’m not having sex with you again ever,” I stated seriously.

“We both know that’s not
true,” he replied confidently, tweaking one of my nipples between his fingers.
“You wouldn’t last a day without feeling me inside of you.” I was so determined
to prove him wrong… until my throat betrayed me, expelling a moan when he
sucked a nipple into his mouth. “See what I mean?” he said proudly. “And I’m
sure as hell Percy Penis would miss you too.” I giggled as I remembered the
frigid day at the bus stop when he ‘named’ his man bits.

Then, his eager fingers
wandered lower, tickling over the skin across my stomach as they made their way
to my sweet spot which was only just beginning to calm down… and I was gone.

Damn.

~Dexter~

I
woke up fully when my arm reached out for
Emily and I was met with a cold pillow. After rubbing my groggy eyes I flipped
my gaze to the black LED clock on the nightstand – 07:13 AM. Maybe she
just went to the bathroom, I thought to myself. It was Christmas morning
– far too early to be up for the day. It was only when after a further
fifteen minutes she still hadn’t returned to the cold mattress, I dragged my
weary ass out of bed and set off in search of her.

Dressed in only my boxer-shorts I made
my way down the stairs. I heard Emily’s unforgettable giggle before I’d even
reached the bottom. She was in the kitchen with Aunt Sarah, standing by the
stove peeling carrots.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked
through a yawn, scratching at my head.

“Knitting you a Christmas sweater,”
Aunt Sarah replied sarcastically. Emily giggled again and after hearing that
musical sound it was impossible not to smile.

“You’re such a boy,” Emily added. “I
bet you’ve no idea how much work goes into making a meal like this,” she
tutted. She looked utterly edible in her tight jeans that clung to all the
right places and a festive-red halter-neck top.

“And you do?” I retorted – quick
as anything. “I got one word for you, doll. Thanksgiving.” Huffing, Emily
screwed her face up and glowered at me.

“Yeah, well I didn’t have anyone
showing me what to do then, did I?” she spat. She was pissed. It was adorable.

“What’s this all about?” Aunt Sarah
asked inquisitively. Straddling a breakfast stool and making myself
comfortable, I happily described in minute detail, Emily’s unsuccessful
attempts to make me Thanksgiving dinner last month. The dinner she’d poured her
heart, soul, time and money into… only for us to end up with a double pepperoni
pizza from the local takeout.

“Oh, honey… that’s just about the
sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Aunt Sarah directed at Emily with a sweet
motherly smile. “And know that in the future, if you ever plan something like
that again, I’ll always be on the other end of the phone.”

“Ooooh no,” Emily replied, ticking her
finger from side to side. “I’m
never
planning
another meal like that again,” she resolved.

“But…” I questioned, waving my hand
around the kitchen full of half-prepared Christmas food.

“This is different. It’s not
my
meal – it’s Sarah’s. Therefore
if it gets messed up it’s not
technically
my responsibility.” Instantly throwing a hand over her mouth, she added
“not that it
will
get messed up! I’m
sure your Christmas dinner is the bomb!” Her adorable cheeks pinked and I knew
she was worried she might’ve offended Aunt Sarah.

“Don’t worry, doll. Aunt Sarah’s
completely unoffendable,” I reassured her. Is unoffendable even a word? Well it
should be – because that’s what Aunt Sarah is.

“Right you…” Aunt Sarah’s finger jabbed
me in the chest. “No men in the kitchen. Go on… out.” She shooed me away with
her hand and Emily just stood there giggling. What is this? 1922?

“You gonna make me be alone on
Christmas day?” I pouted.

“You’re going to be too busy to notice.
Go upstairs and search out the fancy plates,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am!” I saluted her. Then I
blew my two favorite girls in the world a kiss in turn and headed for the
stairs.

It didn’t take much searching to find
the china plates. They were where they’ve always been – in the bottom
drawer of Aunt Sarah’s dresser, covered in a fine sprinkling of dust. I
would’ve taken them down to wash but assumed I’d get my marching orders the
second I dared step foot in the kitchen, so instead I left them in a neat pile
on top of the dresser until someone hollered for me to bring them down.

Jesus, it was Christmas day and I was
bored out my freakin’ mind. Lying back on the guest room bed, I flicked through
the cable channels on the old TV and almost immediately turned it off again.
The screen was filled with all the joyful, Christmassy shit you expect on
Christmas day and if you’ve seen one Christmas movie, you’ve seen them all. My
only exception to that rule is Santa Clause The Movie. If you haven’t seen
that, you totally should. It’s not Christmas without it.

Giving up on the idea of finding
something half decent to watch, I decided to take a shower. Then when I reached
the bathroom I figured a shower would only last a few minutes so I ran a bath
instead, using some flowery scented shit from the shelf above the faucets to
conjure up some bubbles.

I lay back in the almost scalding
water, heels together – knees apart, for about twenty minutes before that
started boring the fuck outta me too. I considered calling Emily upstairs to
‘scrub my back’ but knew she’d only tell me to piss off. So I thought about
jerking off instead, even gave myself a bit of a tug down there, but without
Emily, that was boring too. So, huffing in frustration, I clambered out the
tub, pulled the plug and toweled myself dry.

I caught myself staring at the loose
floor tile in the corner a couple of times while I was in there. But that’s all
I did. Look. Everything’s been going great the past couple of days so I haven’t
needed that shit to keep myself together. See? I’ve got this. It’s only a
problem when I need it to get up in the mornings. As it stands, I can take it
or leave it – and it’ll stay that way. I’ve had enough experience to know
when I’m bordering on dangerous territory, and so the second I reach for
that
tile just because I ‘fancy’ what’s
hiding beneath it… I’ll flush the whole thing down the fuckin’ shitter.

“Right, ladies, enough of this ‘no men
in the kitchen bullshit,” I groaned when I entered the kitchen. “I’m freakin’
lonely over here.”

“Aww,” Emily cooed, wiping her hands on
a dishcloth before coming over to me. “You feeling neglected, baby?” She
planted a soft kiss on my cheek and I instantly regretted not jerking off in
the bath because now, fucking her senseless was all I could think about.

“Damn right I am. It’s Christmas. And
no one should be alone on Christmas right, Cindy-Lou?” I teased, referencing
back to a moment we shared while waiting for the bus the day we decided to
stick around for the holidays.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you kids
are talking about half the time,” Aunt Sarah piped up, looking confused.
“Seeing as you’re here, dice these.” She handed me a paper bag filled with
shiny green apples and my mouth instantaneously started salivating at the
thought of Aunt Sarah’s homemade apple pie. She only makes it on special
occasions so it’s a good few months since I’ve felt it melt around my taste
buds.

“Hell yeah,” I replied, taking the bag
eagerly from her hands. “I’m telling you, doll… once you’ve tasted her apple
pie – no other apple pie will
ever
compare.”

“Can’t wait,” Emily said while resuming
her vegetable chopping duties by the sink. I don’t know why people even bother
with vegetables. It’s not like anyone ever eats them. They’re only there to add
a bit of color to your plate so why waste the time and effort spent preparing
them?

Grabbing a knife from the drawer, I
took up position beside Emily. We peeled and chopped together for a while
before I was banished once again after being put in charge of dressing the
table. Yeah I was bored, but this Christmas rocked. After vowing to forget
about all the shit waiting for us outside this house for one day, everyone was
really happy. The two most precious people in my life were really happy –
and that made
me
really happy.

**********

“I got you something,” Emily whispered
with one hand behind her back. We sat at the dinner table and Aunt Sarah had
gone into the kitchen to grab the turkey. “It’s not much,” she added, “but it
reminded me of you.” I cocked a curious eyebrow and she brought her hand out to
the front. Inside it was a small, oblong box decorated in shiny gold wrapping
with a tiny little silver bow stuck on top. Smiling widely, I teased the paper
open carefully.

“Ha! It’s fuckin’ perfect I love it,
doll,” I beamed, checking out the mini Harley in my hands. Emily grinned
proudly, chewing on her bottom lip and making me want to fuck her right there
on the table. “But I…” Instantly I felt like shit. “I haven’t got you
anything.” We agreed we weren’t doing presents. I should’ve known in chick
language that meant we’re doing ‘small’ presents. Man, I feel like a total
douchebag right now.

“That’s what we agreed. Besides, I got
this just after we got here. But then I went all psycho stalker on your arse
and everything just… well it just didn’t seem appropriate anymore.” She was
talking about the night she followed me here thinking I was cheating on her.
Then of course the shit hit the fan, she found out about my mom and I decided
it’d be a good idea to go out and get wrecked. Yeah, that memory wasn’t helping
with the ‘feeling like shit-ness’.

“Dexter,” she said lovingly, cupping my
face with one hand. “So much has happened recently and you’re being so strong.
You’ve stopped running; you’re talking to me… that’s all I want from you. The
only present I want this year, is
you
.”

Strong?

Yeah, I still felt like shit.

“Merry Christmas!” Aunt Sarah sang,
walking towards the table with the turkey balancing gingerly in her hands just
as I was about to reply to Emily.

“Fuck me, that’s huge!” I stated,
eyeing up the bird big enough to feed half of Ohio. I suddenly felt a little
nauseous knowing I’d be eating turkey for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the
next week.

“Will you do the honors, honey?” Aunt
Sarah asked, holding a carving knife in the air.

“My pleasure,” I replied with an
exaggerated arm roll. “Carving is man’s work,” I growled, flexing my arms like
Popeye and kissing my guns.

**********

It was late evening by the time we’d
finished clearing up after dinner. The amount of dirty dishes was ridiculous considering
there were only three of us. We all chipped in. Emily washed, Aunt Sarah dried,
and I mopped the floors before taking the fancy plates back upstairs and
tucking them away in the dresser for another year.

I know I’m about to sound like a total pussy
right now, but I had a bit of a silent moment as I looked around at my family.
Emily was sprawled across my lap on the couch, fiddling with locks of her hair,
and Aunt Sarah was curled up in a leopard print Snuggie on the armchair. On
Emily’s insistence we were watching Jingle All The Way with Arnie
Schwarzenegger (in case you’re from Mars, we weren’t actually ‘
with’
Arnie – he’s in the movie)
while passing a box of chocolates back and forth between us, and for the first
time in forever, it
felt
like Christmas.

Arnie was busy running around as
Turbo-Man when we all jerked our necks towards the sound of a light knocking at
the door. As with every time the door went lately, you could hear three hearts
sinking in unison. Deep down I knew it wouldn’t be my dad. It was Christmas Day
for fuck’s sake. Not that I thought for a second he wouldn’t stoop that low,
more likely he was too busy ruining Christmas for a new family he’d probably
made over the years. Emily started to shift from my lap but Aunt Sarah waved
her off with her hand.

“I’ll go. You kids enjoy the movie.”
Seriously? Was she watching a different freakin’ movie?

Emily sat up anyway and perched herself
on the edge of the couch with her arms crossed over her knees. Aunt Sarah
seemed to walk in slow motion towards the door and suddenly the TV faded into
insignificance – the only audible sound was that of the door creaking
open.