Page 15 of A Very Grumpy Father's Day
He kisses down the center of my stomach, paying special attention to the soft part of my lower abdomen, which he claims is so much sexier now that it’s a little more rounded. Tender kisses are then planted above the elastic waistband of my cotton panties with the same enthusiasm and care as if I were wearing French lace and silk. Suddenly, he rises up and flips me over onto my stomach. He takes hold of my wrists and places my hands over the edge of the wood headboard. Guess I’ll need some leverage.
His hands slowly travel down the sides of my torso, and I feel him peel off my panties, pulling them down to my thighs. He caresses both cheeks so delicately. “I fucking love this ass,” he mutters. “You promise not to tell anyone about the incident?”
“You mean the one where you were dancing around in an Elmo costume and our baby was bawling her little eyes out?”
That earns me a smack on each cheek.
“We have a signed agreement, Mrs. Cannavale.”
“You did not clarify as to the nature of the penalty should the Receiving Party disregard the agreement.”
Another sharp smack of the right cheek, followed by a soothing full-butt massage. “Said party shall receive what she’s got coming to her, and she shall like it.”
“Of course, sir.”
And then I feel the full weight of his body against the back of my body, pressing me into the mattress.
I wait for his next move.
And wait.
And wait.
And then I realize his breaths have evened out.
He has fallen asleep.
On my back.
I hear Ciara fussing through the monitor.
She needs to soothe herself back to sleep, and as much as I was looking forward to more oral pleasures and fifteen vigorous intercourse thrusts, I wouldn’t mind getting a little more sleep.
I know how much Declan hates unfinished business, so we’ll pick up where we left off…eventually.
