Page 25 of Ribbons and Roses
A few seconds pass by where no one says a word and we remain where we are. Marcel rolls his eyes and then steps away from the kitchen counter.
“I’ll be gone first thing tomorrow morning.”
He strides out of the room, turning left to head up the staircase to his room.
I close my eyes and let out a wobbly breath. “Why can’t he just be happy for us? Even my father’s learned how to be.”
“He’ll come around,” Salvatore says, kissing the spot below my ear. He rubs his hands up and down my shoulders and arms. “And if he doesn’t, then that’s his mistake to make. It seems he refuses to back down even if he knows he’s wrong.”
“Typical man.”
Salvatore raises a brow, cupping my chin. “Says my hardheaded, former ADA wife who’s refused to back down from mafia families threatening her before.”
I’m tempted to smirk as I lean up and kiss him instead. “That’s because I knew there was another mobster out there who always had my back.”
Salvatore is the last one in the house to make his way up to bed. He enters our bedroom to find the room pitch dark. Flicking on the light, he surveys the empty bedroom—including the empty bed—and then moves toward the bathroom.
I’m nowhere to be found.
Suspicion passes over his face, narrowing his eyes.
He moves back into the bedroom as if about to raise hell that I’m gone until he spots the envelope I’ve left for him on the bed. It has his name neatly scrawled on the back. He takes it into his hands and peels it open to read the note on the inside.
Your present’s waiting for you. But can you find it?
As composed of a man as he is, I can spot the subtle change in his features. The tic of his jaw and amusement that quickly gleams in and out of his gaze. He sets out on a mission to check all the spots I might be. He checks under the bed and behind the shower curtain in the bathroom. Coming up on the closet, he draws both doors open.
There I am waiting for him.
I smirk. “Merry Christmas.”
It takes him a second to remember how to speak. He’s much busier raking his eyes over me, drinking in the sexy little costume I’ve put on for him.
A bright satin bow tied across my naked breasts paired with a matching thong panty and thigh high stockings.
His present wrapped in red ribbon, complete with Santa hat perched atop my head of curls.
He swallows thickly and then grits out, “I don’t think anybody’s ever given a better Christmas present.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that. But the question is, are you going to unwrap your present, Jon?” I purr, placing my hand on his chest and walking him backward.
In a few steps, we’re reaching the bed, where Salvatore happily sits back and looks up at me. I throw a leg on either side of him and park myself in his lap. My mouth hovers over his as I slide fingers through his hair and tell him how I’ve been thinking about him all night long.
“Do you know what was on my mind at dinner?” I ask, leaning in for a kiss on his jaw. “All I could think about was your big cock. My pussy got so wet just imagining you fucking me.”
My hand gropes his crotch where his bulge has tented. He groans his approval, the first of several as I begin peppering him with kisses.
His skin heats up against my lips. I press more kisses along his jaw and then down his throat and pull out his dick. He’s hard and soft at the same time, his erection immediately swollen and stiff while the skin feels like wrapping my fingers around silk.
Salvatore’s always loved my touch.
The second I’m teasing his dick, his groans grow thicker. His breaths come heavier. The sounds are so gratifying to my ears that it only encourages me.
I stroke him like he likes, working my curled fingers in a rotating motion. Not too fast but not too slow either, occasionally surprising him with a squeeze.
My lips find his, kissing him softly. The gentle kiss is designed to be another playful form of torture, my tongue poking out to wet his lips. He responds as if he’s a feral animalthat’s been caged. He rumbles out another thick groan and nips back at my mouth like he’s about to take charge and devour me.
His palms are on my ass, groping the fatty flesh he loves, warning that it’s only a matter of time before he loses control.