8. Delphine

8

delphine

I’m alone in the kitchen preparing dinner when Salvatore finds me. He comes up from behind and slides his arms around my hips to hold me close. His lips hover near my ear as his warmth radiates from him.

My eyes close on their own, gratitude filling me up.

He’s made it home safely. He and the others escaped a situation that could’ve turned fatal.

“You alright?” he asks me.

“Am I alright?” I repeat with a delirious-sounding laugh. “Let’s see. My husband and the father of my children could’ve drowned today. That’s along with my father and my brother… and a very good friend. I’m doing swell, Jon.”

“We had it under control.”

“Is that the same thing you’d say if it were me and the kids?” I pose my question as I twist slightly in his arms for a look at him.

His jaw sets. “That would be different.”

“We’ve been over this, Jon. I love you as deeply as you love me. Losing you would be…” I can’t even bring myself to finish. The mere thought tears me up, my blinks coming faster as I fight off emotion.

Salvatore pulls me toward him ’til our brows are touching, and then he’s squeezing my hips. “Hey, keep calm. Breathe. I promise I’m not going nowhere. If Lucius and his bullshit couldn’t keep us apart, do you think some freak accident on a boat will? What have I told you? I won’t let anything keep us apart.”

“I know,” I whisper, more to myself than anything. “I know.”

“I mean it, Phi. You and the kids are my heart. If I’ve got to walk on water to make it to you—or through fucking flames—I’ll do that. I’ll always find a way.”

We spend a few seconds basking in each other’s presence. I’m slowing my breathing, focusing on the fact that Salvatore’s right. He has made it out unscathed. Dad, Marcel, and Stitches are all okay too.

There’s no need to panic.

Except…

“How did it happen?” I ask. “How did the boat flood like it did?”

“That’s what we’re still trying to figure out. The boat had to have already been like that when we rented it from the rental company.”

I bite back the urge to tell Salvatore about the strange premonitions I’d received earlier in the day. It’s possible I am so attuned to him that I sensed danger was striking even at a distance. It’s also possible I’m being paranoid.

This holiday trip to the cabin was supposed to be joyful and carefree. It was supposed to show Salvatore what Christmas could be for a family as loving as ours.

Thankfully, it’s not too late. We still have the rest of the trip to celebrate.

We return to the dining room and finish setting the table. The others are already gathered around, eager to dig into tonight’s dinner.

Everyone except Marcel, who said he wasn’t feeling well.

“This pot roast is succulent,” Dad says with an approving wink. “Delphi, you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“Sasha provided the recipe.”

“Off Google,” Sasha says. “Delphine was the real mastermind.”

“That’s no surprise,” Stitches jumps in. “Remember how you burned the last pot roast you tried to make?”

Several of us at the table share amused glances as Stitches and Sasha bicker about this alleged pot roast that may or may not have been burned.

“Daddy, can you take me and Bryce sledding?” Dominic asks, his eyes round with hope. “Mommy said we had to be good.”

Salvatore’s blue-green gaze meets mine from across the table. I already know the look. He’s endeared by the fact that his eldest son is looking forward to sledding with him.

“Of course I’ll take you,” he says. “But do you remember what we talked about?”

“Yes, I’ve gotta eat all my veggies!”

“That’s right.”

“I wanna go too!” squeaks Serena from her booster seat. She picks up a floret of broccoli and holds it up to show us she’s eating the vegetable. She munches on the floret to cheers all around the table.

Salvatore scrubs at his jaw, chuckling along. “Yes, Rena. You can come too.”

“Who would’ve thought? The secret to getting little kids to eat their vegetables is bribery,” Dad says.

“I seem to remember you using a similar tactic, Dad,” I point out, smirking.

“Except it didn’t always work. Your brother chose to sit there for hours rather than eat a lima bean.”

“I tend to be stubborn once I’ve made up my mind on things I don’t care for.”

Everybody looks up at the sound of Marcel’s voice.

He’s appeared in the doorway to the dining room, his arms folded over his chest. He carries a note of tension with him that instantly spreads across the room. The mood shifts from the festive holiday energy we’d been enjoying to a tense uncertainty.

“Feeling better, Marcel?” Stitches asks.

“You mean after the boat sank and we almost drowned? All things considered.”

“Sounds like a freak accident,” Sasha says, shrugging.

“Sounds like I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Marcel!” I snap, popping to my feet. “Can I see you in the kitchen for a second?”

My brother scowls before obliging with a nod. He tails me into the kitchen, reminding me of what a petulant child he’d been at times when we were small. The kitchen door flaps shut behind us as we turn to face each other.

“What the hell’s your problem?” I ask without mincing words. “You’ve had an attitude since you showed up here! You realize you didn’t have to come, right?”

“Seems like that’s what you would’ve preferred.”

“I would’ve preferred if the older brother who I love very much wasn’t acting like an asshole. So, again, I ask what is your problem?”

He cuts his angry gaze away from mine, his arms tight around his chest. “I don’t like the things I’m seeing.”

“Such as?”

“The person you’ve become. The person you’ve browbeat Dad into becoming.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, cognizant that we’re not really alone. Salvatore being Salvatore is likely just on the other side of the door.

As always, ready to jump in on my behalf. Ready to defend me the moment he deems it’s necessary.

But it seems like it’s more of a situation where I’ll have to defend him.

“Isn’t it obvious, Delphine? You’ve married into a crime family. Dad once stood against that on principle alone. Now you’ve got him chuckling and chitchatting with these guys like it’s nothing. You realize how unbelievable that is?”

“You knew who I was married to before you came here.”

“I had to see it with my own two eyes. Just how you’ve brainwashed Dad. And how brainwashed you?—”

“What? That I am? You think I’m brainwashed too, Marcel?”

“He’s done a number on you. That’s all I’ll say.”

I laugh in disbelief, shaking my head. “Your audacity never fails to amaze me. The fucking gall it takes to do this right now!”

“Better late than never. I was hoping you’d still see reason.”

“You know what? You never should’ve come. I’ve been with Salvatore for damn near nine years, married to him for seven of those years. Where were you? You were doing business overseas, chasing foreign ass and living it up! You were never there when I needed you. You were never around when I went through the darkest times of my life. But you know who was there for me? You know who loved me through it?” I rant, my skin hot. “Salvatore! Salvatore was there for me and proved he was the man for me! If you don’t like it—if you refuse to accept it—then you can get the hell out and never look back. I’m out of patience for the judgment.”

I whip around to march from the kitchen only to bump right into Salvatore. He’s entered without me even realizing it. His hands reach out to steady me while his hard gaze remains on Marcel. I can feel his offense on my behalf.

Salvatore would be more insulted by how my brother’s treating me than what he’s said about him.

“Marcel, I welcomed you to my family vacation with open arms,” he says calmly. “I was looking forward for the opportunity to get to know Delphine’s brother better. But it seems you’re here to be problematic and ruin the occasion. If you can’t be civilized, then you’re going to have to leave.”

Marcel scoffs. “A mobster telling me to be civilized. That’s rich.”

“I’m not asking,” Salvatore says. “If you can’t behave yourself, then you’ll have to leave. Make up your mind quickly. We have family dinner to return to.”

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 animal that’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.

But I’m enjoying teasing him.

I push him down until he’s laying back all the way and increase my strokes. I’m fully straddling him now, even rubbing my thong-clad pussy over his erection to really get him going.

His dick twitches in my grasp.

It’s burning hot, so hard I imagine he’s on the verge of coming.

I smirk at him as I change position, turning around to offer him a nice view of my ass. I crawl toward his dick and take it whole into my mouth—or as much as I can before his thick length hits the back of my throat and I’m gagging.

“Fuck… Phi…” he chokes out.

His breaths come even deeper. He slaps my ass and then gives both cheeks a rough squeeze.

I should know better than to put my ass right in front of his face. My mouth is full of his dick when he takes it upon himself to officially begin unwrapping his present. He slides my thong panty down the curve of my ass and then wrenches me more toward him.

A strangled cry leaves me as he buries his face in my ass, biting at the supple flesh. It’s all I can do to remember not to suffocate on his dick.

We’re both torturing each other as I try to concentrate on stroking and sucking him. He’s nibbling and kissing anywhere he can. His tongue teases the puckered hole and sends an immediate sharp shiver up my spine.

Seeking revenge, I increase my motions. I take his dick even deeper ’til my throat muscles are flexing around him and he’s so thick that he just might explode any second. But where I’m taking my revenge out on his dick, he does the same to my pussy.

Salvatore eats me out like he always does; he’s a starving man, sucking and slurping at my dripping pussy as if it’s some fine delicacy to taste.

I’m panting and quivering trying to keep from coming.

Trying to hold out longer than him.

Any last shred of patience shattering, Salvatore snaps like I expected he would. The room spins as I’m whipped up from my position and then tossed down. Suddenly, I’m on the bottom and my thighs are pushed back toward my head.

He’s hovering over me, a feral look on his face as he strokes his dick and wrenches the last piece of ribbon off my body.

My breasts spring free and he growls, dipping his head to take one into his mouth.

He sinks his dick into my dripping wet pussy and we cry out together. Intense pressure builds from the inside. I shudder at how full I feel, basking in how perfect Salvatore’s dick feels buried deep.

He pulls back ’til only his head remains at my entrance and then slams forward. The first rough, passionate thrust of many to come. I’m immediately matching his energy, grabbing his hips to encourage him to fuck me even harder.

If anyone else in the house hears what we’re up to, neither of us care.

In the moment, we’re so caught up in the pleasure surging through our bodies that it doesn’t matter.

There’s no slowing down this type of passion as Salvatore flips me over and plunges into me from behind. I clench my eyes shut and throw my ass back at him almost tauntingly, ’til I’m the one fucking myself on him, bouncing on his dick.

His palms collide with my ass cheeks, his grip so clenching that I’m sure I’ll be sore come morning. His thrusts resume, gathering speed, coming quicker and deeper than ever.

My pussy tingles, swollen and sensitive.

Right on the edge of tapping out.

Some couples lose the spark in their relationship after only a few years. We’ve found ourselves more sexual and expressive than any other period in our lives, reaching a point where we both know exactly what we want. We’re so familiar with each other that we take and give freely, slipping into a natural rhythm that allows for explosive moments like this.

We twist ourselves into yet another position, where I’m on top again. Salvatore’s laying back as I sit reverse on him, back to bouncing my ass up and down on his dick. He groans for more than one reason. The feel of my silky wet pussy swallowing up his dick and the view that greets him with every gyration of mine. He slaps my ass some more, even gripping it to slam me back down on him.

When my orgasm finally comes and I seize up, he’s rolling me under him. He fucks me through every tingling spasm of my pussy, his hands all over my body. Fondling my breasts and pinching my nipples. Bruising my hips and thighs.

Forcing my face toward his for a searing kiss.

He comes inside my swollen pussy and leaves me dripping with a mix of us.

But he’s still not done—he plants more deep kisses, licking at my lips and tracing the inside of my mouth with his tongue. I’m breathless returning his kisses yet enjoying every second. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The messiness of our moments like this are what make them feel so amazing.

We finally break apart with small, satisfied smiles on our faces.

“Did you like your present?” I murmur, my chest heaving.

He nuzzles his face to mine, squeezing my hips. “You just might be doing the impossible: changing my mind on Christmas.”