Page 38 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

“Hold on tight, Mary.”

I grab the rope, adrenaline coursing through my veins. It’s been years since I’ve been sledding, but I’ve watched the twins go down the hill without falling off, and it must be like sex, right? Something you never forget.

I push us off, and we’re flying faster than I remembered, snow spraying out from under us, and Mary is laughing so much that I can feel her breaths juddering through her body. She’s pressed up against me. All I can think about is the feel of her ass between my legs and the citrussy scent of her shampoo from beneath her beanie hat.

We hit a bump right at the bottom of the hill, and we both tumble off the sled. I sprawl face-first in the snow like a starfish, the oxygen leaving my lungs momentarily.

I turn my face sideways to find Mary spreadeagled, face buried in the snow. She raises her head to look at me, and I’m about to ask her if she’s hurt when she hurls a handful of snow my way, catching me right in the mouth.

I splutter, wiping my face with my gloved hands, buying myself some time. I see the way her smile fades, concerned that I’m not laughing, and before she can apologize, I’m on top of her, smooshing snow in her face and pinning her down so that she can’t escape.

“Ugh! Get off me.” She tries pushing me off halfheartedly, laughing too hard to put any force behind it. “Stop, I can’t breathe.”

I pause for a beat, and the little minx twists herself around beneath me, shoves my hat off, and rubs snow in my hair.

“Playing dirty, huh?” I push her backwards like a snow angel and pin her arms above her head easily with one hand. Before I can think about what I’m doing, my tongue fills her mouth, and she closes her eyes, giving into our mingling breaths. I don’t even feel cold. Her body is all I need, and this realization is quite liberating.

She kisses me back, chasing my tongue with hers, and it’s this raw passion that surprised me so much down by the stream. Mary isn’t like other women. She’s like a flower blossoming for the first time and my erection is proof that I want to be the one to open her up. Nothing else exists in the moment.

Until Uncle Ciaran slides past us and catches me on the side of the head with a giant snowball.

I straddle her, the tip of her nose pink, her eyes boring into mine. I want her to say something. I want her to tell me how she feels, but instead, a smile stretches her lips, and she says, “Go, get him.”

The moment passes.

Whatever it was.

I know she felt it too, and I float back up the hill, my heart thumping in time with my footsteps.

That afternoon, we all drive down to Jake’s bar in the village. It’s a small, cozy pub with low ceilings and dark wood beams. The bar counter, I inform Mary, is made from a railway sleeper, and the pub has been in Jake’s family for generations. Jake is a tall, broad-chested guy with a thick mop of salt-and-pepper hair, permanently rosy cheeks, and a wide smile that reveals a gold tooth on top.

Everyone in the pub knows the O’Hara family, and it takes us a while to reach the table with all the back-clapping and handshakes and Merry Christmases being exchanged.

Mary sits next to me on the cushioned bench, her thigh pressed up against mine. Something has changed between us since I gave her the portrait. She is more attentive, more relaxed around me,more natural, as if she has stopped pretending to be my fiancée and this is who she really is.

It’s hard to believe that she works for me, and I’ve never noticed her before.

I like what I see.

My family seems to have noticed the difference too. Mom winks at her conspiratorially whenever Mary catches her eye and she thinks I’m not watching, as if she knew all along that this would happen.

Still buzzing from the sledding, I slide my hand onto her thigh beneath the table, and she sucks her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling. My head fills with an image of me sliding my cock into her mouth, and I shake it away. I won’t be able to sit here all day with an erection, without wanting to drag her outside and fuck her up against the back wall. Next time, we’re going to do it properly.

Next time.

Mary orders Guinness—we insist that it’s good for you because of its iron content—and swallow a mouthful, grimacing at the unusual flavor. Everyone around the table laughs. I cup her face in my hands and, using my thumbs, wipe away the creamy moustache left behind by the drink. She peers at me with those beautiful green eyes, and I see the heat rising in her cheeks.

Having this effect on her just by touching her face makes my cock twitch. I need to fuck Mary Chrysler again. I need to fuck her every way I can think of, and then some.

“Patrick would’ve let me wander about with froth on my face for the rest of the day.” Mom laughs, dragging me away fromthoughts of Mary naked, her ass in the air while I fuck her from behind. “I always knew my Emmett was a keeper.”

“Just a shame it took him so long, eh, Sinead?” Auntie Erin joins in.

“You can’t hurry perfection.” I don’t even know where it comes from, but Mary almost chokes on her Guiness, and I hide my smile behind my drink.

A hush settles over the table though when the Blackthorns enter the pub and make a beeline for us. My spine immediately tenses. I remove my hand from her thigh, and ball it into a fist. I don’t know what game Fianna is playing with him, but nothing will ever persuade me to like the guy.

“What’s he doing here?”

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