Would he go to New York, watch her walk a catwalk, kiss a variety of cheeks, and generally hold court in her world, all (except the catwalk) on his arm?
If he needed leave and didn’t get it, he was going AWOL.
“Only if I get a front row seat at this show.”
She dropped her wooden spoon, clapped her hands then rushed to him and threw herself in his arms, jumping up and down in them.
“Massimo would put you nowhere else!” she cried, then kissed him. When she pulled away, she announced, “This makes me very happy.”
His meaning in life.
Serious.
“Good, baby,” he muttered.
She shot him a sunny smile and returned to her pasta.
“Shoot me the dates by text and if I need leave, I’ll request it tomorrow.”
“All right, bello.”
He watched her cook, wearing jeans and a sweater with bare feet in his kitchen.
This was his life.
Christ.
This was his life.
And it was good.
“Babe, come closer.”
She didn’t.
She rode him, wearing nothing but a sexy, lacy little bra, and she did it slow.
“Luce, go faster and come closer.”
He was on his back on the couch, naked, his arms over his head, hands stuffed in the cushion by the arm of the couch, and she was on his dick.
The game had not been boring.
Luci cupping his junk in the second quarter and giving him a look that told him what she wanted to do with it, he didn’t care what he was missing.
Her hazy eyes found his as she slowed her roll.
Slowed her fucking roll.
She was killing him, all of her, that little bra, that hair, that face, her sweet, tight pussy a wet, hot tease.
“Babe,” he growled, pulling both hands from the cushion to grasp her hips and get this show on the road.
“Arms over your head, Hap,” she warned.
“Go faster, you’ll get what you want.”
She leaned into him, face to face. “Arms over your head, caro.”
He stared into her turned-on eyes in her smug face, knowing she was playing with him, and thought, fuck it.
He rolled her and drilled her.
“Hap! No fair!” she cried.
“Wrap your legs around me.”
She was taking his cock hard, so now biting her lip, her nails digging in his shoulders, liking what she was getting but not about to admit it.
She pulled herself together, slapped his arm and repeated, “No fair.”
What she did not do was wrap those long legs around him.
“Right,” he replied, pulled out, knifed up to his knees and felt his cock jump when she cried out in a way he liked after he flipped her to her belly then hauled her up on her knees in front of him.
That ass.
Damn.
He thrust hard and deep.
Her head reared back, hair flying everywhere.
Fuck yeah.
“Ride that now,” he grunted.
“Yes, darling,” she gasped, slamming back into him.
He mounted her, hand in the couch at her side, other hand slipping over her belly down and in, going at her clit.
She started panting and bucking.
Wild.
“Yeah, baby, fuck me,” he encouraged, meeting her moves, the wet, sweet noises of their connection fucking music.
She started rippling around his dick.
Her warning.
“Don’t come,” he ordered.
“Hap,” she breathed.
“Don’t come, Luciana.”
She exploded, trembling under him, her pussy clenching, milking his dick, her hot little noises spurring him on.
Fuck, she was awesome.
He pushed back up, grabbed her ass on both sides and watched his slick cock take her, fucking hot, totally beautiful, until he arched into her, shooting hard and deep, his eyes closing, a guttural noise bursting from his balls, hurtling up his chest and out his mouth.
He came back to the world and fucked her gentle, watching her take that too. Moving his gaze, he saw the softness of her face in profile with her cheek to the couch, tendrils of her hair obscuring his view she didn’t bother pulling away.
So Hap reached out and did it for her.
She made a mew of gratitude, and again he wondered if he liked this better than what she just gave him. That look on her face. Knowing he did it for her and how much.
When he started losing it, he pulled out, nabbed his tee, shoved it under her so if she leaked, she leaked on his tee and not the couch, and rolled her before he lowered himself to her.
“Good?” he asked, but he didn’t need to.
Her expression was still soft, sated, partially dazed, and her fingertips were moving over his skin lightly, like he had braille stamped everywhere and she was fascinated by what she was reading.
“No fair,” she replied, trying and failing to assume a pouty face.
He grinned at her.
“That isn’t our deal, Hap.”
“Baby, do not even try to tell me you didn’t get off on that.”
“I was getting off on what I was doing before.”
“You got off harder taking me on your knees. You love getting fucked on your knees.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Yeah, she loved it.
“If I used my hands when you told me not to, what would you do?” she asked.
“Pull you over my thighs and spank your ass then probably fuck you on your knees.”
She squirmed.
He fought his grin at feeling it and put his lips to hers. “You want that, use your hands next time I’m doin’ you like that.”
Her gaze slid to the side. “Ugh.”
He pulled back an inch. “How hard you come?”
She rolled her eyes.
“That hard?” he teased.
She glared into his eyes. “You’re annoying.”
“I love you.”
Her body went still under his.
He’d never said it straight out like that.
She knew.
But he’d never said it.
“Though, just shot inside you with two handfuls of your ass, so I’m feeling sentimental.”
Her eyes got big.
Then they squeezed shut as she busted out laughing and finally wrapped him in all her limbs.
He grinned down at her as she did.
Nope.
This . . .
Luci laughing hard.
This was the best it could get.
When she was done, he asked, “You want me to clean you up?”
“I’ll do it, amore.”
He kissed her, long and wet, before he helped her to her feet.
He gathered her clothes first, handing them to her, before he pulled on his jeans and sweater.
He was flat out on the couch when she returned, dressed, and collapsed on him.
He curled his arms around her and tangled his legs with hers.
She burrowed closer.
She passed out halfway through the fourth quarter.
He carried her to bed.
He was never so happy to miss most of a game.
The music was pumping, the flashbulbs were popping, and Hap felt his gut drop when she came out on Massimo’s arm.
The dress was shocking red. All lace. A complicated top. It fit her beautiful body like a glove to her knees where it bulged out and trailed behind her five feet in a wide swell of delicate red lace.
She led with her hips, smiling big and white, her hair huge, her makeup heavy, her hand tucked in the crook of Massimo’s elbow, her head turning side to side as she worked it down the catwalk.
That was his woman.
That was his girl.
That was his Luci.
She came abreast of him, looked right at him and lifted her elegant hand with its blood-red fingernails to her ruby red lips and blew him an exaggerated kiss before her smile went wired, and he would swear to his dying breath she lit up that whole damned place.