Chapter 44 Dominic
Dominic
Christmas hasn’t been something I’ve celebrated since I was a kid. My mum used to make a big deal out of it, but all that magic she brought into mine and Violet’s world died right alongside her.
Over the years, I started to resent the day. Not because of what it represented, but because it reminded me of everything I’d lost.
There was no tree at the orphanage. No decorations. No presents waiting to be unwrapped on Christmas morning.
The only upside was Christmas dinner, with all the trimmings. The meal didn’t come close to the spread my mum used to make, but it was a hell of a lot better than the crap they fed us the rest of the year.
I feel like an arsehole for denying Lil’ Peach that experience up until now, especially after seeing how excited she’s been. Emily’s introduced her to it all, touching on the meaning behind the day as well as the fun, magical parts.
Emily and I left Peach with Lucia last week and went shopping, buying everything we saw that we thought she’d like. It was complete overkill, but I guess I had three years’ worth of presents to make up for.
The fat fuck that’s now taken residence on my niece’s bed even got a few gifts. He spends his days walking the streets—as he continues eating his way towards an early death—and his nights curled up on the end of Peach’s bed, much to my disdain.
I even managed to sneak out to get Emily something special.
I have no fucking clue what her reaction to my gift is going to be, but I guess I’ll find out in a matter of hours.
It’s early Christmas morning, and everyone but me is still fast asleep. I’m currently in bed with my girl wrapped in my arms, pondering how much my life has changed this year.
All for the better, but I can’t help thinking about my sister, Violet, and wondering what kind of shit she’s got lined up for herself today. I’m sure there’ll be a few highs on her agenda—literal highs, compliments of her addiction—but the crash that comes with it is never far behind.
I still remember how excited she used to get on Christmas morning, waking me up what felt like every five minutes to ask if it was time to open our presents yet.
As much as she loved the idea of Santa Claus, the thought of some fat bastard in a red suit climbing down our chimney scared the shit out of her. Every Christmas Eve, without fail, she’d sneak into my bed.
I loved that I was the one she always gravitated towards for protection; I wish it were still the case.
This year is a stark contrast to the non-existent celebrations in the past. We’ve got a full day ahead. Once the presents are opened, Lil’ Peach has requested chocolate chip pancakes, plus bacon and eggs for breakfast. After that, we’re heading to the De Luca’s for lunch.
I lift my head off the pillow and place my lips on Emily’s bare shoulder. I need a distraction. No good can come out of falling down the rabbit hole that is my fucked up past.
“Morning, mia tortina,” I whisper against her skin.
I didn’t take her last night when we got home because I could see how tired she was. Instead, I ran her a bath and made myself stay away so I wasn’t tempted to climb in with her.
When it was time to go to bed, I slipped in behind her, wrapped her in my arms, and ignored the tent in my boxers. Her breathing evened out within minutes, so I knew I’d done the right thing.
She’s had a full night’s sleep now, so I plan on making up for it before we get up, because walking around for the entire day, pining for her pussy is going to make me a miserable prick. And the last thing I want to do is ruin Emily or Peach’s day with my foul mood.
When Emily responds to my greeting with what could best be described as something crossed between a hum and a groan, my lips tug up at the corners.
Sleepy Emily is no fun, but I know exactly what will get her going. This woman has a greedy pussy, and is powerless to my touch.
My hand glides over her hip and under the elastic of her underwear. The moment the tip of my finger circles her clit, she lets out a breathy moan and rolls onto her back, opening her legs for me.
“Merry Christmas, Em,” I say as my tongue traces a path from her collarbone up along her neck. The words feel foreign because I can’t even remember the last time I said them.
“Merry Christmas, Dom,” she replies, placing her hand on the side of my face and guiding my mouth to hers.
Our lips mesh as my pressure on her clit intensifies. I swallow her moan as I deepen the kiss.
Kissing is something I’ve largely avoided until her. Along with the missionary position.
Occasionally, I’ll let my hookups ride me, but mostly I’d take them from behind. They were a good time, so I didn’t need to see their faces. I didn’t even care if they were picturing someone else while I fucked them.
I wasn’t seeking a connection; they were simply a means to an end. But I don’t want that with Emily. I need her to know it’s me who’s making her feel like this.
I want the intimacy.
I fucking crave her closeness.
The scariest thing is, it feels like my happiness begins and ends with this woman.
Manoeuvering my hand, I replace the finger massaging her little nub with my thumb, so I can sink a digit inside her heat. She’s already primed and ready for my cock, but I need to get her off before I bury myself balls deep.
I’ve made it my mission to bring her undone as many times as I can when we’re together. For once in my life, this woman’s pleasure seems to outweigh my own.
The obsession I developed over the years for Emily Ashford has now morphed into something heavier. It’s not just a thought anymore; it’s constant and impossible to shake. I need her in my life, permanently. I can’t let her slip away.
She has no idea how far this fascination goes back.
I may tell her in the future, but not today.
She doesn’t need to know about the Chapstick I stole, or the red satin underwear I swiped off her bedroom floor, or the hair elastic I slid off the end of her hairbrush one night when I saw it sitting on the countertop in the bathroom.
I add a second finger into her snug, tight cunt as my need to possess her borders on something dark and unhinged. Like, there’s no longer a version of my life where she isn’t in it.
“That’s it, cupcake, fuck my fingers,” I growl when she starts bucking her hips into my hand.
Within seconds, I feel her inner muscles clenching around my digits like a vice, and my cock throbs with the knowledge he’s about to get his turn.
I continue working her over until she goes limp on the bed. Only then do I roll onto my back, bringing her with me.
She’s still panting as she straddles my hips. There’s a satisfied, lazy grin curving her lips as she stares down at me. Her blue eyes sparkle, and her long blonde hair falls forward, framing her pretty face like a curtain.
Everything else drops away. I’m now hyper-focused on her. She’s impossible to ignore as she pulls me into her gravity, and I’m not even trying to get free.
I lift my hips off the mattress, tug down my boxers until my rock-hard cock springs free, and then slap my hand down on her arse, because I know she loves that.
“Ride my cock like the good girl you are,” I command.
I push my head back into the pillow and groan the moment she sinks all the way home. I fucking love this woman, and it’s about time she knew just how much.
Emily is perched on my lap on my recliner as we watch Lil’ Peach tear into her presents with the excitement of a three-year-old discovering magic for the first time. The sight squeezes my heart. I should’ve given her this way before now.
Seeing the way her eyes widened when she woke to a mountain of wrapped gifts under the tree felt like a punch to the gut. I thought I’d given her everything she needed over the years, but I was wrong.
I let my own fucking baggage stand in the way. My inability to cope with my own scars robbed her of the chance to just be a kid. I won’t make that mistake again.
My arms tighten around Emily’s waist as I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck. Does she even realise how much she’s brought into our lives by being here?
“Thank you for giving her this,” I murmur against her skin. “Thank you for everything you’ve given us both.”
She shifts on my lap, turning slightly so our gazes meet. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your lives,” she says, cupping my cheek.
There’s so much I want to ask. Are you happy here? Do you want to stay? Please stay. I don’t know if I can do this without you.
But instead, something else slips out before I can stop it. “I love you.”
Her eyes widen, and her face rears back. My heart sinks, as I automatically fear I fucked up, but then that sweet smile of hers lights up her face. “You love me?”
I clear my throat, holding her gaze. “Do you have a problem with me loving you?”
“Not at all. Would you have a problem if I told you I love you too?”
This time, my lips curve into a smile as the relief hits hard. It suddenly feels like I’ve been holding my breath for years and finally remembered how to let it out.
She loves me too.
By some grace of God, I manage to keep my composure. “I’d be okay with that.”
“Good,” is her only reply as she leans in to place her lips on mine.
When Emily turns back to watch my niece open the last of her presents, as if she didn’t just rock my world, I settle back into my seat, and the ridiculous grin on my face stretches so wide I almost want to punch myself.
For a brief moment, I feel like that little boy I used to be, before everything in my life went to shit. This right here is what true happiness feels like, and fuck me, I don’t ever want it to fade.
When the chaos of gift unwrapping is finished, Lil’ Peach rummages in her stash of presents until she finds the new leotard and tutu. “I put this on,” she says, clambering to her feet and running over to me.
I’m feeling so unlike myself right now that I don’t even care if she wants to wear her ballet outfit to lunch at the De Luca’s. She could ask me for just about anything right now, and I’m pretty sure I’d comply.
Emily rises off my lap, and even as I begin to undo the buttons on Peach’s pyjamas, my eyes remain locked on her as she leaves the room.
She comes back a few minutes later with a giant gift bag in her hand. “I have something for you,” she says, placing it down on the ground beside my feet.
“You got me gifts?”
“To be honest, I struggled to think of something to get you. You already have a nice watch, and you don’t seem like the jewellery-wearing kind.”
There’s a piece of jewellery I hope to wear one day soon, specifically a ring, but I keep that tidbit to myself.
I peer into the bag and see what looks to be a stack of large canvases.
“When I first moved in here,” Emily says, “I noticed how bare your walls were, so I went with that.”
Nothing she gives me could top the words she gave me earlier. Her love is all I’ll ever want or need.
I’m expecting colourful art or random prints, but when I reach in to pull the first one out, I find it is neither. It’s a black-and-white image of Lil’ Peach in her ballet attire. She looks so sweet.
“I love this,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
“There’s more.”
The next one is Peach again, but I tilt my head back and groan as soon as I see what, or specifically who, is perched on her lap.
“Fat Cat, seriously, Em. It’s bad enough that he’s invaded my home; now I have to look at his smug face every time I enter the room.”
“He’s part of the family,” she says with a laugh.
I stare at the cat. “He looks like he’s planning to take over the house and emotionally ruin me.”
“He does not. He likes you,” she replies.
“Well, I can assure you, the feeling is not mutual.”
“Uh-huh,” she hums all smugly like she knows I’m full of shit.
I’m not. That obese ball of fluff is the bane of my existence.
I pull the last canvas out of the bag and find myself grinning again. It’s a picture of the three of us taken the day we went to the zoo. “This one is my favourite,” I admit. “I’ll hang them on the wall after breakfast.” I reach for her hand and tug her closer. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” After I place a chaste kiss on her lips, she takes a step back and turns towards the kitchen. “I’ll get a start on the pancakes.”
“Pantakes,” Peach squeals.
“Hold on,” I say, grasping Emily’s hand again. “I have something for you as well.”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “You do?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the small box—the one that has been driving me crazy with indecision for days—and hand it to her.
It’s not wrapped because I was in two minds about even giving it to her.
Her pretty blue eyes widen the second she flips the lid. “You brought me a ring?”
“Yes,” I answer, rubbing my flattened palms down the front of my jeans.
“Is this …”
Her words drift off, but I know where she’s going with that question.
“It’s whatever you want it to be, mia tortina.
It can be a simple diamond ring or something more …
the choice is yours. I don’t want to rush or pressure you into anything you’re not ready for, but Lil’ Peach and I really want to keep you, don’t we, baby girl? ”
“Yes,” Lil’ Peach shrieks as she jumps up and down and claps her hands.
My eyes flicker back to Emily, and my stomach churns as I await her answer.
She plucks the four carat oval diamond ring from its satin cushion and slides it onto her finger. I hold my breath as she looks down at the sparkling stone and says, “I choose the latter.”
It takes a moment for her words to compute as my mind scrambles to remember which one was the last option. As soon as it does, I spring to my feet. “You want to marry me?”
“You need to ask the question if you want to know the answer.”
“I think I just did.” Her eyes dart from my face to my knees. “You’re going to make me get down on one knee, aren’t you?”
“Well, it is tradition.”
I exhale through my nose, shaking my head. “Bloody tradition,” I mutter under my breath, but I’m already grinning as I drop down anyway. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make this woman mine. “Will you marry me, cupcake?”
“Yes, marry us, Emmy,” Peach shouts.
“I’d marry you both right this second if it were possible.”
And just like that, my day, my year, and my whole fucking life is made.