Page 85 of DeLucas After Dark

“Okay, me first,” Madeleine adds, standing to walk to the tall Christmas tree standing in a corner of the beautifully decorated room. It’s scintillating with lights, decorated with garlands and snow globes. The perfect addition to the festive ambiance of our home.

She did this. All of it. Brought warmth, joy, and peace into my life. My heart.

Maddie grabs a beautifully wrapped gift box from the pile at the foot of the tree and struts back to me, her full hips swinging like a hypnotic pendulum. Fuck, I’m gonna have to tap her gorgeous ass again.

I rearrange myself, spreading my legs to give room to my growing erection in my pajama bottoms. Catching the movement, Madeleine raises a sardonic eyebrow.

“I don’t know if naughty boys deserve a present.”

I make grabby motions. “Gimme, woman.”

She giggles again, sitting across from me with her legs crossed, her expression turning shy, making my heart swell. “I hope you like it.”

I take the small box, giddy as a child getting his first bike. I shake it carefully, eyes fixed on Madeleine’s. Loving the cautious way she watches me. Her eyes glinting with glee.

I tear into the glittery blue wrapping paper, revealing a beautifully carved wooden box. I open the lid, and my breath catches in my throat. There’s an old picture laid on the deep red velvet lining.

“Baby.” My voice comes out scratchy.

It’s a photo of two teenagers holding hands. He’s tall and lean, all long, lanky form. She’s pretty as fuck, her head thrown back, mouth open on a laugh, staring up at him with something tender in her eyes. Something sweet, warm and larger than life. Something that looks a lot like love. And he stares back just as intensely. His dark gaze filled with adoration. Like he knows she’s his for that moment and through eternity. It’s a photo of us. Maybe fifteen, twenty years ago. When we were young and innocent. Full of hope. Before shit happened. Before life pissed all over our young love.

I swallow with difficulty.

“Where did you find it?” My voice comes out croaked, charged with emotion. Of all the pain I know is coming. But also of the gratitude that fills my heart everyday. Because we may have walked through fire, but in the end we found our way back to each other.

“My mom. She finally got all her stuff to Boston, and was going through it.”

Maddie cups my face, wiping an errand tear from my cheek. She kisses me softly.

“I love you, Joey DeLuca. You’re my person. I’m so happy we got a second chance.”

I kiss her back, pouring all my heart into it. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Thank you for reading!

Maddie & Joey’s story, “Giuseppe DeLuca”, will be republished in November 2023. Stay tuned for the new purchase link!

Michele & Gabrielle

A very special Christmas present.

GABRIELLE

“Michele DeLuca!” I mock-chastise my big, tall, fucking irresistible husband, giggling and pushing away his huge hands. “Behave!”

His luscious mouth is hooked on one side into a delicious smirk I’m dying to lick. Big hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me in his lap, full mouth pressed to the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Baby, stop! I can’t get to your mom’s house all disheveled… again.”

He chuckles against my skin; the deep rumble vibrating all the way down to my toes. Fuck.

Mikey presses a button on his door, closing the partition between the driver and us, sitting at the back of the limo. He does not give a speck of attention to my protests. He just keeps feeling me up all over, kissing my trembling skin, and humming his appreciation in a low, sexy purr.

“Mikey… I’m serious,” I moan against his mouth. “You don’t know how long it took to get my hair and make-up done. And… And my dress… Oh My God!” I cry out when he pulls down the collar of my dress and bra in one motion and rolls his talented tongue around my stiff nipple, sucking in as much of my large breast as his mouth can fit. “Baby…”

Michele is a man on a mission. His stormy eyes are riveted to mine, latching on to every emotion passing over my face. Mouth on one of my nipples, one hand pulling, rolling and twisting the other, and the long, thick fingers of his other hand pushing the hem of my fitted cocktail dress up my generous hips, gliding between my quivering thighs, and inching to pull my lacy thong to the side.

“Oh, fuck… honey!”

---