by Chelle Bliss
“Dario hasn’t had a Christmas on the outside in five years, Pop. Whose fault is that?”
My father stared at me, his eyebrows shooting up. “His.”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but his shaking head stopped me.
“No one asked him to take the blame, not even Dante. In fact, if I remember right, Dante wanted to go to the DA and make a confession, but Dario wouldn’t have it.”
“Still…”
“We all make choices, and we all have to deal with them.” Pop turned, glancing at Dino when another of my men approached to speak to him. My father ignored them, shrugging off my business and employees as he headed for the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to see my wife and go inside to eat. It’s fucking cold out here, and it’s Christmas.”
Pop disappeared inside, tearing off his coat as Mama approached, her face wide with a smile.
“What’s the problem?” I said, frowning as another of my guys joined Dino and the other man who I now saw was Mike. Nodding to both, I slipped my hands into my pockets, frowning at the looks on their faces. “Speak.”
“Mr. Carelli,” Dino started, “Mike and Rickey say there’s a problem with one of the business owners.”
“Oh?” I walked forward, forgetting about the cold that had settled into my bones, my curiosity piqued. “Who is it?”
Mike motioned toward the edge of the patio. “The bakery across the street.” He directed me across the patio and down some small steps until we could see a large van and a building lit up just across the way from my parents’ restaurant.
Then in the distance, I could clearly make out a woman in a thick coat, her long red hair in a braid down the center of her back.
“So, what’s the problem?” I asked, angling my head to get a better look at her.
She came into the light, holding a large box in her arms with a bag hanging from her elbow.
“She refuses to pay the protection fee.”
The words hung in the air like the hot breath coming from my mouth. The Realtors jazzed it up as a community fee. Sometimes they said it was a town expenditure tax or a preservation fee, but it was always mandatory and stipulated in every mortgage agreement new tenants sign.
“Did I hear you right?” I said, turning to stare at my men.
That fee wasn’t for me. It was for the town. It kept the dockworkers from losing our cargo and inspectors happy enough that our deliveries didn’t get shipped to larger townships or bigger cities. It kept the town from being harassed by other families wanting to take over all those gray businesses I tried hard to keep out of our community.
So why the hell wouldn’t she pay it?
“Yes, sir. Turns out she’s got some fancy lawyer who argued the fees weren’t legal because the taxes aren’t part of the town charter and were never voted on.”
“No shit, they weren’t voted on…”
“Mr. Carelli,” Dino said, stepping between Mike, Rickey, and me as I watched the woman come back to the van empty-handed. “I can go talk to her. Maybe make her understand how things are here. What we offer as far as our protection goes…”
She stopped near the back of the van, head turning like she knew we were watching her. My men looked away, worried, I guess, of getting caught. The redhead lifted her head, one hand on her hip, like she was waiting for me to move or comment or do any damn thing but watch her.
“No,” I finally told Dino, unable to keep the grin off my face. “It’s Christmas. We’ve got time.”
“Dimitri,” I heard, turning to see my father waving me inside.
I nodded to him, tapping Dino once on the chest before I left my men. “You take care of that thing for the girl I asked you about earlier?” I asked Dino.
“Yes, sir,” he said, nodding to Mike and Rickey. “They’ll drop it off the second you text me that everyone’s asleep.
“Good. Thanks. Have a good one.”
I slipped inside, relieved as the rush of heat greeted me and on edge from the argument I could hear from my spot next to Maggie and Mateo.
“Sorry,” I told her, touching her shoulder when I sat. “Had to take care of something.”
Mateo sat in his mother’s lap, his big eyes getting wider as he watched Antonia and Dante bickering across the table.
“Are they…always like this?” Maggie asked, leaning closer to whisper in my ear. She smelled like wine, sweet, delicious, and a little like lilacs, making me want to nibble on her neck right here at this table with my idiot siblings irritating everyone.
“Always,” I told her, grabbing Mateo’s hand when he reached for my finger. “Antonia is protective of Dario. She’s still pissed at Dante, but she loves him too.” I grabbed a glass of wine, my finger still in the baby’s death grip. “Even if he is an asshole.”
Mateo giggled when Antonia threw part of her roll at Dante, and he retaliated by flinging a strawberry at her head, making her yelp.
Her face went red and blotchy until she screamed with a loud, “Bafangu!”
Not exactly something a kid should ever say around their parents, no matter how old they were, especially not around a crowd of people on Christmas Eve.
“Antonia Maria Carelli!” Mama shouted, slamming her fist onto the table. “Enough!”
My sister and Dante straightened, both instantly looking down at their plates as Pops stood, resting a hand on Mama’s back. His expression shifted from a frown to a smile as he gazed around the room.
“I’m so happy my wife got to speak for me earlier, but I’d like to say something too…if you wouldn’t mind?” Our family and friends clapped, their attention shifting instantly from my stupid siblings to our father. Next to me, Mateo reached, his small arms outstretched, and I took the hint, grabbing the kid to hold him in my arms.
“Okay,” I told him, my voice in a whisper, “as long as you remember the dimples shit doesn’t work on me.”
He went for my crucifix again, and I let him, stretching an arm around the back of Maggie’s chair. She leaned back, resting against my chest, her hand slipping onto my knee like it was habit, something I didn’t think she meant to do.
It didn’t bother me, didn’t seem to bother her either at first. Then she glanced down, her eyebrows shooting up like she’d only just realized what she was doing.
Yeah, she wants it.
When she started to move away, I grabbed her hand, holding my fingers over hers to keep her there. “You’re good,” I told her, smiling when I spotted how her chest heaved the closer I leaned toward her. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
She looked up at me then as my father went on about his family, this town, and the importance of friendship and forgiveness. All I could think of were those big brown eyes and the touch of her hand as she stroked the inside of my thigh. Then Maggie bit her lip, those top teeth dragging along the wet skin.
And I realized for the first time that night, there was something I wanted for Christmas too.
Maggie
I was weightless.
Floating.
For the first time in over a year, it felt like there was nothing I had to worry about. There was nothing I had to think of except how it felt to sleep, relax, and just be.
Then I felt something soft, plush, comfortable, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. A cloud. A pillow. A mattress?
My eyes flew open as the weightlessness ended. I jerked upright, grabbing around me, my hands reaching, panic overtaking me. “Mateo? Mijo? Where are you?”
“Maggie. Shh…” Smoke. His arms. Strong, solid. “He’s fine. I got you. He’s asleep.”
“Where?” I said, brushing the hair from my face. I was still in Antonia’s dress, but the shoes were gone and so were the earrings. “Where’s my son?”
“Here,” he told me before holding my hand, leading me down a short hallway and into a bedroom, the door open wide.
There was a bed outfitted with a thick quilt pushed to the edge of the mattress. In the center was my son, on his back, his arms outstre
tched, surrounded by a ring of pillows Smoke seemed to have made for him.
“Yes,” I said, laughing under my breath.
Men were clueless about babies but damn cute sometimes.
“You can hear him if he cries,” he told me, leading me back toward his room. “The place is old and solid, but the vents make it impossible to keep many secrets. If he cries, you’ll know.”
“You’re the only one in the building?” I blinked with my mouth hanging open.
“My folks took Dario to their place, and the street sweepers got the snow cleared,” he said, untucking his shirt. As I watched him, pressing my lips together, probably looking a little desperate, Smoke stopped, moving closer, but not close enough to touch me. “I’ll take the pullout couch so you can rest in here.” His tone was light, but the inflection was open-ended, like he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted to do. Like he was pretty sure that was not what I wanted him to do at all.
The shirt he wore was high-end, the sleeves rolled and still unwrinkled. It fit him like it was sewn onto him. This branch of the Carelli family tree may not be the Carelli family, but they certainly weren’t poor.
Smoke’s home was lush, his furnishings ornate and comfortable. There were no discount IKEA pieces in this place. No overstock purchases or last-season designs filling his closets. Like the dress I borrowed from his sister, everything was new and designer, with just a bit of overkill. But on Smoke, it didn’t seem over the top.
It seemed pretty damn good.
He appeared to be waiting for me to do something. He didn’t have to wait long. I’d gone a long time not touching anyone but myself.
I didn’t love Smoke Carelli, but I did want him.
I needed him to touch me, and I wanted desperately to touch the fine lines of his taut, strong body. I wanted to taste the smooth slope of his thin waist and deep ridges that dipped past his navel.
“Smoke,” I whispered, standing in front of him, taking his hand in mine.
He raised his eyebrows, a silent acknowledgment.
“I don’t want to be in here alone.”
He wet his lips, moving his teeth over his bottom one while he looked at me like he needed me to be clear. “You want me to sleep in here?”
“Not so much, no.”
He moved close, curling one hand around my waist. “You want me to fuck you in here?”
I laughed, my mouth pulling up at one side. “Damn, papi, you have a filthy mouth.”
“Bellissima, you’re about to find out just how filthy my mouth is.”
I was not ready for him.
Smoke wasn’t slow and sweet. He was a man who took what he wanted, when he wanted it, and right then, it was me.
He pulled me to him, our bodies flush, grabbing me by the waist just as his mouth landed on mine, kissing me hard.
Smoke filled my mouth. His greedy tongue dove in as he gripped his fingers first on my waist, then onto my ass, tugging me closer and closer.
I felt every inch of him getting harder—the straining tightness of his arms as he reached for me, the contours of his chest as I scratched my fingers over his pecs, and the long, insistent firmness of his thick cock as he pressed closer against me.
“Smoke. Closer. Please…” I told him, slipping a leg around his hip, moaning when he held me close.
Then, the smug asshole teased me, gripping my hair between his fingers as he held my head still. He looked down at me, holding my leg so he could grind against me, demonstrating how thick and swollen he was for me.
“You feel that?”
I nodded, shuddering each time he brushed against me.
Smoke grinned, his hold on me tightening. “You want that? You sure?”
“Sí… Yes… I want…all of that.” God, I sounded like such a needy whore, but there was something about how Smoke was looking at me in a way that I didn’t feel cheap.
“Good. That’s good, baby.” Smoke pulled my head toward him, taking my mouth again, devouring it, until I was breathless. Until I was shuddering from the command of his tongue and his control.
He moved us, lying me across the bed, his lips on my neck, greedy, anxious fingers working down the zipper at the back of the dress. As he pulled down the dress and uncovered my skin, he kissed across my body, along my collarbone. His mouth and tongue skated over my breasts, sucking on my nipples, nibbling down my ribs until he had me naked. Smoke had my legs in his hands and held me open, staring down at me when I reached across my belly to cover myself.
“Don’t do that,” he told me, pushing my hands away. “You’re beautiful. Fucking delicious. So fucking sexy.”
“I’m not…”
He wouldn’t hear any reasons I might have had for disagreeing with him. Smoke ignored me completely and dipped between my legs, his mouth covering my pussy, tongue deep, licking, and sucking. I forgot instantly what I was saying or why I’d ever believed I could do without this for a single second.
“Oh God… God!”
He cupped my bottom, holding me against his mouth as I tangled my fingers in his hair, wanting him closer, needing him deeper. And when I thought I couldn’t stand any more sensation, Smoke slipped his thumb inside me, working against my G-spot, his finger moving until I tightened around him and my orgasm crested. “Yes! Oh…yes!”
Smoke watched me, that sweet, slow grin turning into a full-on smile as my body relaxed and my heartbeat returned to normal. I reached for him, wanting to kiss him, needing more from him.
“Come here, papi,” I said.
He listened, for once, leaning forward, tugging off his shirt, slipping out of his pants and shorts until all there was of him was that smooth olive skin and those glorious, lean muscles and his perfect, long cock.
He barely fit in my hand. The tip was wide but warm as I slipped it between my lips. Smoke moaned, leaning back on one arm to watch me move over him. His low humming moans were nearly as sexy as the feel of his dick inside my mouth.
“That’s good, beautiful… Fuck, that’s good…” He tangled his fingers in my hair again, guiding me. The low grunts were deeper now, and when I used more suction, that grunt became a moan before he pulled me off him. “Not too much,” he told me, gaze on my mouth, before he kissed me, pushing me back onto the mattress. “That pretty mouth is too sweet. You’re gonna make me come too fast, and I wanna be deep inside you when I do that.”
Smoke kissed me again, rising to his knees, smoothing his hands over my breasts and down my stomach before he kissed the center of my chest. “So fucking beautiful.” He placed one final kiss against my mouth before he reached for his bedside table and removed a condom, opening it with ease. Stroking himself, his gaze on my face, he smoothed it over his cock. “Lie back,” he told me, crawling closer, positioning himself over me, “and spread yourself wide.”
Smoke distracted me with a deep, hard kiss. His tongue demanding, the suction drugging as he moved his hips and guided himself slowly inside.
It had been over a year since I’d had sex. No one had touched me since I found out I was pregnant…since Alejandro.
My body ached with each stinging touch of Smoke’s cock moving inside. The ache was sweet. The heat scorching. Every thrust, every rock of his hips against mine, took away the memory of what I’d been missing for the past year.
“Maggie, you sweet fucking beauty… You’re perfect wrapped around me… Shit…”
Smoke moved faster, holding on to my hip, looking down to watch the way we moved together, how he moved inside me. I loved the expression on his face. How we seemed to fascinate him. How we seemed to turn him on.
Then I tightened, loving the friction, remembering this sensation, wanting it harder, so I told him, “Go…go deeper…”
“Fuck yes…” he said, like he was relieved I didn’t want him to hold back.
No more gentleness.
No more caution.
I wanted Smoke to give me everything he could.
“Open up, baby. Open wide.”
/> I listened, spreading my legs, bringing my knees up. Smoke immediately responded, holding my inner thighs, grinding inside me, going so deep it was almost painful. He leaned forward, resting one palm on the pillow above my head, and he slowed his movements, making them deeper still, touching me further than anyone had before.
The sensation was new, overwhelming. I felt myself beginning to crest, the hum of an orgasm starting in the center of my body and working its way down.
Smoke moved faster, trying to catch me like it was a race we were both trying to win, until I fell over the edge.
“Fuck!” I said, arching as I came.
“Shit,” Smoke said, gripping the pillow, his forehead against mine, his breath heavy and labored until we both went perfectly still.
Smoke
My parents taught me to give.
If you had plenty and someone was in need, you gave until that need was met.
It wasn’t in their nature to be greedy. They may have started their lives in that gray area and left it, I may live there now, but that didn’t mean we were selfish.
It meant we were smart.
Calculating.
Maggie had a need, and I hope like fuck I met it. From the way she lay boneless against me, naked and glorious, I got the impression I did.
Christ, was she hot.
She let go completely, released everything. Did a little giving of her own last night.
She didn’t stir when I moved her onto the pillow, brushing back the hair from her smooth, pretty face. There was no expression on her features. No worry or fear like there’d been when I’d carried her in here before she’d asked me to stay.
The anxious way she’d jerked awake, automatically reaching for the kid, desperate to find him, twisted something inside me.
Hated seeing her like that.
That shit came from fear and terror, like she expected someone to swoop in and steal away with her boy.
Maggie had a secret.
She had worries, and I planned to find out where all that shit came from.
She might not ever be my woman—a man like me couldn’t afford attachments like a woman or a kid—but she needed someone to have her back. That much, I could do.