Chapter 126 126. The Midnight Surprise

Chapter 126 126. The Midnight Surprise
The Richardson mansion was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. At midnight, the house was still, its occupants lost in peaceful slumber except for three figures moving through the darkness with the stealth of secret agents.

Hazel led the way. Behind her, George and Nathan followed, their small faces alight with barely contained excitement. George carried the birthday candles. Nathan clutched the box of matches, his small fingers trembling with the effort of being quiet.

"Shh," Hazel whispered, her voice barely audible. "We have to be very, very quiet. It's a surprise."

Nathan's face scrunched with the effort of silence, his small hand pressed against his mouth. George's composure was more practiced, his steps measured.

They reached the master suite, the door slightly ajar. Hazel pushed it open. The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, casting silver shadows across the bed where Michele lay in peaceful slumber. George moved to the bedside table, placing the candles on the cake with careful precision.

As Hazel lit the candles, the glow illuminated the room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. The cake was a masterpiece of childhood love, slightly uneven, the icing a little smeared, sprinkles scattered like confetti across the top. But to Hazel, it was the most beautiful cake in the world.

"Ready?" she whispered, her eyes bright with anticipation.

George and Nathan nodded, their faces radiant.

"Happy birthday to you," Hazel began, her voice soft and melodic. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Michele. Happy birthday to you."

The boys joined in, their voices high and sweet. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, Daddy! Happy birthday to you!"

Michele's eyes fluttered open, his gaze finding them immediately. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, his brow furrowed. Then the realization dawned, and his face transformed with surprise and joy.

"What's all this?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep but warm with emotion.

"Happy birthday, Daddy!" Nathan shrieked, launching himself onto the bed. "We made you a cake! Me and George and Mommy! We baked it all by ourselves!"

Michele caught Nathan in his arms. "You made me a cake? All by yourselves?"

"We did," George said, his voice proud but measured. "It's strawberry. Your favorite. We remembered."

Hazel settled the cake on the bedside table. "They insisted on doing everything themselves. I just supervised and tried to keep Nathan from eating all the batter."

Nathan's face flushed with guilt. "I only had a little bit, Mommy. Just a tiny bit."

Michele laughed. "I'm sure you did." 

Nathan was already bouncing on the bed, his excitement impossible to contain. "Daddy, blow out the candles! Make a wish! Make a big wish!"

Michele leaned forward, his breath sending the candles flickering. "I already have everything I could ever wish for."

Nathan's face scrunched. "But Daddy, you have to make a wish! That's how it works! You can't just not wish!"

"Alright, little warrior. I'll make a wish." He closed his eyes, his lips moving silently. Then he opened them, his gaze finding Hazel. "Done."

"What did you wish for?" Nathan asked, his eyes wide.

George sighed, the sound long-suffering but affectionate. "Nate, you're not supposed to ask. Then it won't come true."

Nathan's face fell. "Oh. Sorry, Daddy."

Michele pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "It's okay, buddy. I have a feeling my wish is going to come true anyway."

The cake was devoured with the enthusiasm of a family celebrating. Nathan had icing on his nose, his cheeks and somehow, his ears. George ate his slice with quiet dignity.

"This is delicious," Michele said, his voice warm. "Best cake I've ever had."

Nathan's face lit up. "Really, Daddy? Really? You're not just saying that?"

"I'm not just saying that," Michele assured him. "This is the best cake in the whole world.”

George smiled. "We wanted to do something special for you, Dad. You're always working so hard. You deserve to be celebrated."

Michele reached over, his hand resting on George's shoulder. "Thank you, son. That means more than you know."

The gifts were next.

George presented his first, a small box wrapped in neat paper. "It's not much, but I thought you might like it."

Michele opened the box. Inside was a leather-bound journal, the cover embossed with his initials. "George, this is beautiful."

George's cheeks flushed with pride. 

Michele pulled him into a hug.

Nathan's gift was next, a messy package wrapped in paper that was clearly his own work. "Open mine, Daddy! Open mine!"

Michele unwrapped it carefully, revealing a hand-painted picture frame. Inside was a family portrait drawn by Nathan.

"It's us!" Nathan announced, his voice proud. "That's you and that's Mommy and that's George and that's me! And that's our house and that's the frog I found! And that's the sun and that's a rainbow and that's..."

Michele laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "It's perfect, Nathan."

Nathan's grin was brilliant. "I love you, Daddy!"

"I love you too, little warrior," Michele said, pulling him into a hug. 

After a while, the boys tucked into bed, their faces peaceful in sleep.

"They had a wonderful day," Hazel whispered, her voice soft.

Michele's arms wrapped around her from behind, his lips pressing to her ear. "They made it perfect."

She leaned back against him, her eyes closed. "I'm so proud of them. Of how kind they are. Of how much they love you."

"I'm proud of them too," he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck. "But right now, I want to focus on you."

The master suite was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight as Michele closed the door behind them. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them.

Hazel turned in his arms, her hands cupping his face, her blue eyes meeting his. "Happy birthday, my love."

Michele's smile was slow and wolfish. "Thank you, bunny. For the cake. For the boys. For making this the best birthday ever."

His lips found hers, the kiss slow and deep, a promise of more to come. His tongue swept against her lower lip, coaxing it apart and when she opened for him, he delved inside with a passion that stole her breath.His hands roamed her body, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. But there was no urgency in his touch.

"I want to take my time with you tonight," he murmured against her lips.

Hazel's fingers tangled in his hair, her breath hitching. "I'm yours, Michele. Take whatever you want."

He lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed with infinite tenderness. He laid her down on the mattress, his body covering hers, his weight a comfort that anchored her. His lips found her neck, trailing soft kisses along her collarbone. His fingers found the clasp of her robe, releasing it with practiced ease. The silk fell away, revealing her naked body beneath.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his eyes raking over her. "Every inch of you. Every curve. Every dip. I could spend forever just looking at you."

Hazel's body responded to his touch with familiar heat, her skin tingling wherever he touched. But this was different. There was no frantic urgency, no desperate need. Instead, there was a slow, deliberate exploration, a worship of her body that left her trembling. His lips trailed down her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. His tongue circled her nipple, teasing the sensitive peak until it tightened into a hard bud. 

She gasped, her back arching off the bed, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Please," she breathed, her voice breaking. "Michele, please..."

"Please what, bunny?" he murmured, his lips brushing her skin. "Tell me what you want."

"I want your mouth on me," she gasped. 

He obliged, his lips trailing down her stomach, his tongue tracing lazy circles around her navel. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he explored every inch of her body with dedicated devotion. His lips found her most intimate place, his tongue tracing the seam of her. Hazel cried out, her hips bucking against his face, her fingers twisting in the sheets. 

But he didn't stop. He continued his worship, his lips and teeth and tongue working in perfect synchronization. He feasted on her like a man starved, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure, his tongue circling her clit with relentless precision until she was trembling and incoherent. When she finally stilled, limp and trembling, he rose above her, his lips slick with her arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice rough. "I love everything about you."

Hazel reached for him, her fingers finding his waistband. "I want to taste you," she murmured, her voice low and wicked. 

His breath caught, his eyes darkening with desire. He let her push him onto his back, his body trembling as she positioned herself above him. Her lips found his neck, his chest, his abdomen. She kissed every inch of him, her tongue tracing the lines of his muscles, the sensitive skin of his sides. He shuddered beneath her touch, his breath ragged, his hands fisting in the sheets.

"Fuck, Hazel," he groaned, his body arching beneath her. "Your mouth..."

"Shh," she murmured against his skin. "Just feel, Michele. Let me take care of you."

Her lips found his hip, his inner thigh, the sensitive skin of his groin. He was hard and ready, his cock straining against her touch. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him with deliberate slowness, her thumb circling the head. Her lips closed around him, taking him deep into her mouth, his hips thrusting against her, his hands fisting in her hair. 

The night stretched on, filled with whispered promises and tender touches. Their passion was a slow burn, a building intensity that left them both breathless and aching for more. But they held back, savoring every moment, every touch, every taste.