I was elated and relieved. So were my father and my brothers. Slate and I made peace a long time ago over the outburst that created a rift between us. He even went as far as to apologize to Michaela. Even with that, he took me aside right after I was appointed and apologized again for ever doubting I could pull it offand have the girl.
After an impromptu office party, my gorgeous wife showed me her enthusiasm over the joyous news in the most unforgettable way. She lured me to my office and gave me the ultimate gift––her naked on her knees, cupping her tits as an offering. I eagerly titty-fucked her until I jetted my cum all over her chest and face. Then, I showed her my appreciation by eating her out spread open like a sumptuous meal on my desk while finger-fucking her deep until I hit her sweet spot and her juices came gushing out with force. I came from the thrill of watching her dissolve like that under my tongue and touch. I didn’t even need to touch my cock. It was that powerful.
Damn.
Between furtive glances, we polish off our hot chocolate and eat half a plate of warm cookies.
Michaela leans back against the seat and rubs her stomach. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat a bite at your father’s place later.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage. Trust me, it’ll be worth the effort. Tonight’s dinner is catered by one of Aspen’s top chefs. Dad booked him five months ago.”
She lets out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, well if you twist my arm, then I guess I’ll have to.”
“You’re taking one for the team?”
“Something like that,” she says. “Speaking of taking one for the team… what should we do until dinner?” The suggestive tone in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither does the way she stares at me with hungry eyes.
God, I want to pull her on my lap and devour her, but not yet.
I stand up. “I have something for you.” I throw that over my shoulder as I rush up the stairs. “Give me a minute.”
“You can’t give me my Christmas gifts two days before Christmas.” She shouts that from downstairs.
When I arrive in the bedroom, I change into jeans and a t-shirt. I grab what I need and race back to the living room. “It’s not your Christmas gift.”
A pair of confused green eyes drops to the large envelope I’m holding. “What’s that?”
I head to the iPhone dock, open the music app, do a quick search until I find the song I downloaded specifically for this occasion. I press play.
I turn around to face her.
She frowns and then her beautiful face contorts in a grimace. “I know you’re older, but you’re not that old.”
“You know how old I am.”
“So, what’s up with the dated music?”
“It’s circa nineteen-seventy-two.” I approach her doing this little dance reminiscent of the era.
“Dated,” she says. “Who’s singing?”
“Al Green.”
“Who?”
“Al Green. He was a R&B and soul hit singer from the early seventies?—”
“There’s nothing else on your playlist that’s more contemporary? Heck, the top hits from the last two decades will do. I can roll with that. No need to go that far back in time.” She does a classic disco move.
I grip my chest, feigning outrage. “That hurts, smart ass.”
“Please tell me this song wasn’t part of your repertoire during your boy band days. If so, I’ll have no other choice but to tease you mercilessly until the end of time.”
I roll my eyes. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Then, why are we listening to it?”
“Are you even listening to the lyrics?”
