The only good thing about all this nonsense is that Maria always has leftovers on hand and while Stryker, Bash, Deuce and Bishop bust their asses sanding the new floors we installed on the extension, I’m eating a meatball parmigiana hero.
There’s even fresh garlic bread!
Who’s better than me?
The guy sitting on a beach right now drinking pina coladas and getting it on in the rain, that’s who.
I carry my plate to the kitchen table and take a seat, tucking a napkin into the collar of my shirt. The sound of the sander working the wood is way too loud, so I grab my AirPods from my pocket and fix them to my ears. I pull up my Biggie playlist on Spotify and when the legend starts rapping about showing love the Brooklyn way, I take a bite of my sandwich. That’s another thing—I don’t mind Christmas music all that much but every day we’ve been here working to get this project done we’re greeted with Lou Monte’s Dominick The Donkey. The fucking thing plays on loop all day. I thought about disconnecting the surround sound speakers, but then I realized I’d only be giving myself more work.
I’m halfway done with my lunch when Maria and my dad come in through the back door, their arms full of food. Sighing, I press pause on my phone and remove my AirPods just in time to hear Maria gasp.
“Why is my china cabinet in the kitchen?” she shrieks.
To be fair, we took the china out before we moved the cabinet into the kitchen—that should count for something. Her dining room table and the buffet server are also in the kitchen and the couch is on the front lawn, but if she’s not bringing those things up, neither am I.
In the years since she and my dad have married, I’ve become very aware of the tones of her voice and what each one means. There’s the soft tone she uses around the grandchildren and then there’s the tone she reserves for Riggs—that one scares the fuck out of me because you know when she uses it, the pots and pans are about to start flying.
Can you guess which tone she’s using now?
I’ll give you one guess.
I’m about to take cover when a loud crash erupts from the dining room, it’s followed by the distinct sound of glass shattering.
Uh oh.
That can’t be good.
My father drops the box of frozen lobster tails on the floor and glares at me.
“Look what you made me do!”
I roll my eyes and take another bite of my sandwich.
“Yeah, because I totally made you drop the box. Why the hell do you have a box of lobster tails anyway? Christmas isn’t for another two weeks.”
“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going to set foot in Costco anytime during the next fourteen days. That’s when all the crazies come out in a tizzy to get their fish. No, sir, not I.”
I want to remind him that those who live in glass houses shouldn’t cast stones, that he’s the craziest of all, but Bash suddenly appears in the doorway holding Maria’s crystal chandelier in his hand—or rather what’s left of it.
“My chandelier!” she yelps.
Oh, God.
It’s worse than I thought.
“I don’t know what that is Miss Maria, but this here used to be a light fixture,” Bash says, holding it up like it’s a rubber chicken. “Fell right out of the ceiling when we were sanding the floor. My guess is it couldn’t handle the vibration,” he quips, flashing her a grin. When she doesn’t return the gesture, he straightens his shoulders. “Uh, I’m gonna need a dustpan and a broom to clean all the glass,” he adds, shoving it toward my dad. “You can probably scrap that for a couple of dollars.”
“That chandelier is an heirloom!” Maria cries.
Bash frowns and looks at the chandelier.
“You got any crazy glue?” he asks her. “I might be able to glue them dangly things back on, but I’m not sure where you’ll hang it.” He pauses to scratch his head. “I saw a coat rack by the front door—that might work.”
I flinch.
He didn’t really just suggest we hang her broken chandelier on a coat rack, did he?
Man, Costa Rica is looking more and more like the place to be. Dad takes the chandelier from him and walks it over to me, dropping it on my lap before stalking toward Bash. He grabs him by his kutte and presses him up against the china cabinet.
Not a smart move.
If that thing breaks, we’re all dead.
“When you say it fell out of the ceiling, what does that mean?” he growls.
Shit.
Maria doesn’t wait for him to respond and makes her way into the dining room. A shrill scream sounds and my dad and Bash take off for the dining room too. Sighing, I dump the broken chandelier on top of the table and stare at what’s left of my sandwich.
“A man can’t even eat in peace around here,” I mutter, grabbing the plate. I walk it over to the trash, squeezing my ass between the table and the china cabinet, and toss it. I suppose I should go in there and face the music, maybe offer to buy Maria a new chandelier.
I’m about to go in and access the damage when Maria storms back into the kitchen with my dad hot on her heels.
“That’s it!” she shouts. “I’m done.”
“Now, Lady, just simmer down. It’s only a light fixture.”
We’ve established I am the furthest thing from a relationship guru but even I know that is not the right thing to say to an extremely pissed woman.
She spins around and pokes a finger against his chest.
“Only a light fixture?! Look around, Al, this place is a fucking disaster. My china cabinet is in the kitchen, along with my table and the buffet. There’s a couch on my front lawn and a damn hole in my ceiling.”
Ah, so she did notice the couch on the lawn.
She turns her attention to me, and I square my shoulders. Damn, she’s scary when she’s mad.
“And where the hell are the chairs to my table?”
Dad waves his hands behind her, silently ordering me not to answer, but I can handle him His better half—not so much.
“Um…they’re in the master bathroom.”
“The bathroom?!”
The shower to be exact.
“We ran out of space down here, but don’t worry, I took my shoes off before I entered your bedroom. Nice pillows by the way. They really jazz things up.”
I flash her a grin.
Please don’t hit me with a frying pan.
She opens her mouth to reprimand me, but nothing comes out. She tries again, this time pointing a finger too, but she still can’t find her voice.
Praise Jesus for small favors.
Then she spins around and faces my father.
“Christmas is canceled!”
She couldn’t cancel it last week when the airlines were having a sale? It doesn’t matter, I’m going to Costa Rica! Fa-la-la-la and a Ho, Ho, Ho!
“Now, now, no one is canceling Christmas, Lady. We knew we were going to be in a mess while we put the extension on—”
“Al, this isn’t a mess, this is Hell! I told you we should’ve hired real contractors.”
“Hey! I am a real contractor,” I argue.
“Shut up, you!” Dad barks before focusing on his wife. “I promise you everything will be back in order before Christmas. We’ll get a new chandelier and whatever else you want.”
“I want my ceiling fixed and this goddamn cabinet out of the kitchen! We can’t even get to the freezer to put the lobsters away.”
“Don’t worry, Enzo’s going to go grab some ice and we’ll put the lobsters in the bathtub until they’re finished with the floors.”
Hold the phone.
He wants me to do what?
“I’m sorry. Did you just ask me to fill your bathtub with ice for the lobsters we’re gonna eat in two weeks?”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
I roll my eyes.
“Fine, but does this mean Christmas isn’t canceled?”
“You are not going to Costa Rica! Get it out of your head. We’
ll gift wrap a whore and stick her under the tree—make you feel like you’re there. Now go fix the hole in the fucking ceiling!”
Like I said, I fucking hate Christmas.
Chapter Six
Nico
“Uncle Ni Ni, what kind of trouble do you think Sparky will get into tonight?” Anna asks as I tuck her into bed, making sure all her favorite stuffed animals are right next to her. I try to mask the cringe I make at the mention of the elf she named Sparky and bend my head, dropping a kiss to her forehead.
As much as it pains me to admit this, our little Anna Banana is really digging this elf business. Every morning she wakes me and Carrie up and drags us downstairs to see what kind of mischief Sparky has gotten into while she was sleeping. I knocked my dad for searching Pinterest, but the site is actually very helpful. I would’ve never thought to have the little fucker make snow angels out of flour without it.
Tonight the son of a bitch is going to go ziplining through the living room. I used to carry bungee cords and zip ties to tie up our enemies, now I’m using them to orchestrate elf shenanigans—my how the mighty have fallen.
The good news is we only have a week left of this stuff and then the little bastard gets shoved in a closet until next year.
Sighing, I reach over the side of her bed to flick on the nightlight.
“I don’t know, Anna Banana, but he’s getting his eviction papers soon.”
“Mommy says he’s going to go back to the North Pole before Santa comes.”
I smile at her.
“That’s right,” I confirm, watching as a frown works her lips.
“I’m going to miss him,” she pouts.
I kneel next to her bed and push her dark locks away from her face. It’s crazy how much love I have for someone who has only been on this earth for a short time.
“I know you are, baby girl, but he has to go back to the North Pole to help Santa get ready for next year.”
And I need a break.
She seems to contemplate that for a moment before saying, “But he’ll be back next year, right?”
Unfortunately.
“Yes,” I say, forcing a tight smile. “Now give me some sugar and get some sleep. Grandpa is coming early in the morning to pick you up and take you to see the big Christmas tree in Manhattan.”
Another new tradition.
Last week he had us all decorating gingerbread houses that he glued together—something my mom taught him how to do when she could never get the walls to stay with icing. He also had Carmella, Enzo’s mom, come over to bake seven-layer cookies with Anna and next week, we’ll be lighting Sophie’s menorah.
Anna’s eyes light up and a big smile stretches across her face.
“He’s taking me to the fancy toy store too.”
“F.A.O. Schwartz,” I say.
That one is familiar. It’s a tradition he started after Frankie was born. He wasn’t hurting for money like he did back when me and Enzo were babies and spoiled the three of us rotten. He took us to Serendipity afterward, where Enzo developed his love for chocolate. I wonder if he’ll take Anna there too.
“That’s the one!” Anna exclaims, drawing my attention back to her. “He said I can get whatever I want.”
I laugh.
“I bet he did.”
“Are there really toy soldiers at the door?”
“There sure is,” I confirm.
“I can’t wait! Tomorrow is going to be the best day.”
Every day with you is the best.
I give her another kiss and this time she throws her arms around my neck and gives me a squeeze.
“Goodnight, Uncle Ni Ni. I love you.”
Oh, my girl, I wish you knew how much I truly love you.
“Goodnight my little Anna Banana,” I rasp. She unwinds her arms from my neck, and I tuck her in again, giving her one last kiss before whispering, “Love you more.”
She smiles as I flick the switch on the lamp. The dim light of her unicorn nightlight filters through the room and she closes her eyes. I linger at the side of her bed for a moment, watching as she makes herself comfortable, then I meander toward the door. Leaving it slightly ajar, I glance over my shoulder and mouth the words I love you once again. Tucking Anna in every night is my favorite part of the day.
When I finally find the courage to tear myself away from her room, I push my fingers through my hair and start down the hallway. I should head down the stairs and move that fucking elf, but instead I make a beeline to mine and Carrie’s bedroom. As I draw closer I hear her singing along to Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You and the corners of my mouth twitch with a grin.
She doesn’t hear me enter the room and I take advantage of the moment, allowing myself to slowly drink her in. Fresh out of the shower, her wet hair is wrapped up in a towel on top of her head. She wears a short robe knotted loosely around her waist and nothing else. The silk slides from her shoulder as she turns, reaching for a roll of wrapping paper and one perfect tit falls out.
Finally, a present for Nico!
Pushing off the doorjamb, I pad toward her, my bare feet stepping on bows, tags and tissue paper along the way. Just as I reach her, Carrie turns back to with the roll of wrapping paper tucked under her arm and her tit still on display.
“Do you see the scissors or the tape?”
I drop to my knees in front of her as she feels around the floor for the missing crap. I’d help her if I wasn’t so focused on her pert nipple—hard and begging for my mouth.
“Are you sitting on it?” she asks, lifting her eyes to mine. I lower my gaze back to her breast and reach out, palming the luscious mound. My thumb rolls over her nipple, hardening even more at the simple touch.
“Am I sitting on what?” I reply as I drop my free hand to the belt of the robe. My fingers work the knot loose as my other hand continues to caress her tit.
“I…um…oh,” she murmurs.
The knot finally comes undone and the robe slips from her other shoulder, exposing her both breasts. An animalistic groan sounds from the back of my throat as my gaze lowers, taking in the faint lines that mar her stomach—a result of her pregnancy with Anna.
I love those fucking lines.
My eyes travel even lower, to the v between her legs—bare, pink and mine.
I love that too.
“Nico…” she whispers, drawing my attention back to her face. Her tongue peeks out and slides over her lips as she leans back on her elbows and stretches out her legs, kicking a present out of the way. “See something you like?” she taunts, crossing one leg over the other. The robe slides down her arms, revealing even more skin and my dick strains against the confines of my sweats.
I lower my hand, pressing the heel of my palm against my cock.
Patience.
“You could say that,” I grunt, watching as she uncrosses her legs and opens them for me. I lick my lips and my gaze moves between her legs. “You can definitely say that.”
“Is Anna asleep?” she whispers as she slides her hand down the front of her body, pausing between her thighs. She flattens her hand against her pussy before her middle finger slides between her lips. I swallow hard, completely enraptured by the way she slowly strokes herself.
Damn.
“Yeah, she’s sleeping,” I say, dragging the hem of my t-shirt up my abs and over my head. Tossing it behind me, I crawl between her legs and brace my hands on each side of her head.
“I guess I’m not wrapping presents anymore,” she whispers, as a soft mewl escapes her lips. I reach between us and shove her hand away from her pussy, replacing her fingers with mine.
Her moans belong to me and only me.
“Much better,” she moans, lifting her ass off the floor.
The wrapping paper crunches underneath us as she moves in sync with my hand. I lower my head and take her nipple between my teeth.
“So much better,” she cries.
My tongue flicks the tiny bud before I slowly suck o
n it, feeling it harden between my lips. I pull my fingers from her slick heat and tear my mouth away from her nipple. With my fingertips coated in her arousal, I take her other breast in my hand and twist her nipple. I lower my head and lap at the stiff peak, faintly tasting her on my tongue.
It’s a tease.
A promise of what I’m going to discover when I settle between her legs and fuck her tight little pussy with my tongue.
Feeling like I’m about to lose control, I release her nipple with a pop and lift my head. Our eyes lock for a split second before my mouth comes crashing down on hers. She parts her lips and our tongues collide. My teeth graze her lower lip as her fingers slide under the waistband of my sweats.
Need pulses through me and all the blood rushes south as she frees my cock. Neither of us bother to push my sweats down all the way. And when she wraps her hand around my shaft, stroking me from root to tip, I forget all about eating her out. Her thumb glides over the crown, toying with the metal piercing and I almost fucking come. There used to be a time when she was afraid to touch me because of it, now she fucking loves it.
I break the kiss and her eyes spring open. Leaning back on my haunches, I let her play with my cock some more, then I brush her hand away and position myself between her legs. Our eyes lock and for a second I pause.
In a week I’m going to ask her to marry me.
She’ll really be mine and this...well, I get to do this every night for the rest of my life as her husband.
That’s the greatest gift of all.
“Hey,” she whispers, reaching up to touch a hand to my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, pushing the thought aside.
She still has to say yes.
“Nothing,” I reply. “Everything is right.”
So fucking right.
I bend my head and press a quick to her lips as I push my cock inside her. A gasp sounds from her lips as I slowly inch deeper, sliding all the way in. Loving the feel of all her heat wrapped around me, I don’t move right away. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve had her or how many times I will, every time I enter her, I’m shook to the core by how fucking perfect my cock feels inside of her.
Oh Holy Knight Page 4