Page 86 of DeLucas After Dark

He sucks harder, then simultaneously bites on the nipple in his mouth and pinches the other hard, sending a sharp electric current through my body. His beautiful dark eyes glinting with animalistic hunger.

His clever fingers are gliding through my wet folds and I know I’ve lost. There wasn’t any point in fighting this to begin with, but once my husband starts playing with my kitty, I know resistance is futile. The man is a fucking magician. A pussy whisperer.

His eyelids lower into a lazy, languorous gaze, never letting go of my eyes as he pushes his thick fingers inside me. I let out a loud gasp and thank The Lord, the partition with the front of the limo is soundproof. Cause this man has no shame!

“Michele, please, baby. Stop… Your family… You always do this to me… I can’t keep showing places looking like a… Ahhhh!”

He pinches my clit, then detaches his mouth from my breast and rumbles into my neck, “like what, wife? A well-fucked woman?”

“Anhhhhh…” is my only answer as Michele starts pumping my pussy in slow, deep motions, at the same time rolling my clit with his calloused thumb, his delicious mouth ravaging mine. I’m so fucking screwed.

He alternates between tongue-fucking my mouth and sucking on my nipples, one hand gripping my waist and hips, the other relentlessly finger-fucking me. And it doesn’t take long. Five minutes of this amazing treatment and I’m yelling to the skies, shaking, trembling, spasming, and gushing all over Mikey’s hand. He flips me on my back and latches his mouth to my pussy, sucking, licking and lapping me till the very last quiver. And thank God for that or I would have come all over his slacks.

Michele straightens up, still grinning like the fucking sexy asshole he is. He slides his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. I shake my head from my venture point laying on the other side of the limo’s back bench.

“I hate you.” My voice comes out croaked, laced with a smile.

Mikey winks, his thick, raven black hair all over the place from my fingers running through and grabbing onto it. Eyes shiny with mischief and the fire of his desire. Mouth ravaged by my own kisses. He’s fucking beautiful.

“No, you don’t.” He leans to help me sit up and straighten my dress, pressing a hard closed-mouth kiss on my lips. “You fucking love me.”

I can only stare, batting my lashes. I want to strangle him and jump him all at once. But we don’t have time for either.

I pull down a mirror from the roof of the car and gasp, “Oh My God!”

Mikey chuckles at my side, gaining himself a punch on his stupid, big, hard, immovable shoulder.

“Your mom’s gonna think I’m a whore.”

He rolls his gorgeous eyes. “Mama loves you. She thinks the world of you. And she knows DeLuca men.” He laughs again.

“Mikey! You have no fucking respect.”

“No, just grew up seeing how much my parents love each other. You know my pa don’t give a fuck.”

I feel my face flush, thinking back on some kisses I’ve witnessed between Michele DeLuca Sr. and Ms. Anna. Yeah, Mikey was taught well.

I shake my head, focusing my attention on fixing my makeup with the gloss and powder I have in my clutch, and trying to smooth down my silky do. After a few minutes, I’m mostly satisfied, although it’s clear that anyone who knows how impeccable I usually am will notice.

Mikey presses a soft kiss right where I know my eyebrows are bunched up into a frown. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

I can’t resist the man. “Merry Christmas.”

I snuggle into his broad chest, running my hands over the lapels of his suit jacket. My frown returns when I see he doesn’t have a hair out of place. The asshole ran his fingers through his thick hair, wiped his mouth and hands with a wipe, and now he looks just as fresh as when we got in the car. Unbelievable.

MICHELE

I’m still chuckling when we ring the doorbell. Gabby is tucked into my side, her gorgeous face pinched into an adorable frown. I don’t know what the hell she expected walking out of our room looking like that. Hair done in sooth, flowy waves that made my fingers itch to wrap them around my wrist. Her makeup elegant and sultry. Those big brown eyes even more luminous than usual, that beautiful face, those fucking full lips painted the perfect shade of red. And her body. Molded in a dark red, shimmery dress that hugged her full curves to perfection. She looked good enough to fucking devour. And when she rushed me out of the house laughing, saying we didn’t have time to squeeze in a quickie? A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I needed at least a taste. And now that I’ve had the sweet juices of my wife on my tongue, I feel better. I’m still fucking starving for her, and my mind can’t stop picturing all the positions I’m gonna fuck her in this dress, her naughty pair of skimpy underwear, then in nothing but her fuck-me heels.

My mother opens the door with a wide smile.

“Mikey! Gabrielle!”

Gabby’s frown disappears instantly, and I snicker behind my hand, which gains me an elbow to the side. I move away from the dangerous woman and wrap my mom in my arms.

“Hi Mama, merry Christmas.” I kiss her cheeks and keep her tight against my chest for a beat. I will never take these small moments for granted, ever again. After losing my freedom for twenty years, being forced to only see my family during short, supervised times. Every hug, each embrace, each spontaneous call and visit is a miracle, a blessing I crave and cherish.

My mom laughs when I refuse to let her go. She pushes my shoulders playfully. “Get off me, you big oaf. Let me kiss my girl.”

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