December 10th
Catrina laughed breathlessly—a bitter ring clinging to her amusement—as she found herself flipped over, and pushed to the edge of the bed. Her laughter only spurred her husband on more, urging his baser needs to come out and play.
She didn’t mind that at all.
Dante bent her over the bed, slapped her ass hard enough to take her breath away, and then he was kicking her legs apart again. He gave no warning before he split her open with his cock once more—the thrust sending her up on her toes and crying out as bliss saturated her senses.
At least when he was fucking her, he was focusing on something other than his problems. Or rather, he was focusing that anger into something worth doing.
Every brutal thrust brought Catrina closer and closer to the edge. Dante had been playing the tease game for a while, now, denying her orgasm whenever it came close enough that she could practically taste it.
His hands fisted her hair, yanked her back, and he fucked her harder.
Damn, she was wet.
Slick down her inner thighs.
Sweat beading on her spine.
Shaky in her knees.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Catrina chanted.
Dante’s husky laughter practically skipped across her skin. He pounded harder into her from behind, and fireworks lit like sparks over her skin.
“Like that, amore? That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
“You’re such an asshole, bello.”
Her insult only made his tempo increase. One of his hands left her hair to wrap around her throat. His fingers tightened just enough to make her see stars.
She thought to insult him again, if only to see what else she could get out of it, but she didn’t. Instead, she gave into the cloyingly sweet release bubbling up through her gut and spilling into her bloodstream.
Don’t fucking stop.
It became her mantra as the orgasm raced through her body.
Catrina damn near sobbed her way through the force of it. So damn intense, like nothing else. They weren’t a big fight and fuck couple. It encouraged couples to fight more often just to fuck, so they could feel that way again.
Sometimes, though, it was worth it.
Like now.
“Jesus Christ,” Dante grunted behind her. And then louder, “Fuck, Cat.”
She felt him pull out a second before warm cum painted her naked back. He didn’t let go of the hold he had on her body, or her hair, as he rubbed his dick through the semen, smearing it across her overheated skin.
Catrina used the few seconds she had to catch her breath. It didn’t really help.
This had started with a few shouts.
Then, Catrina had got in Dante’s face. Something she never did. Catrina was not the kind of woman who needed to get up close and personal in a man’s space to get him riled up. She could do that from twenty feet away, fully dressed, and with a fucking smile on her face.
She wanted to push, Dante, though.
She had to.
And what did her husband do?
He laughed her.
Fucking laughed.
Catrina might have slapped him, but she couldn’t say. What came after that was a blur of biting kisses, stinging words, and then the bed.
Them, and the bed.
Dante’s husky chuckles rang out from behind Catrina. “You going to roll over, or what?”
“And make a mess on the bed?”
“Fuck that.”
Dante flipped her over before Catrina could argue further. Her husband leaned down over her, and placed a much softer kiss to her lips than he had given her earlier. She bet there were still teeth marks inside her lip from his bite.
“I will help you change the bedding,” he murmured against her lips.
Catrina swallowed the lump forming in her throat, and nodded. “All right.”
“You good?”
Sore in all the right places.
Suddenly tired like never before.
Blissed.
“Happily fucked,” she told him.
Dante grinned. “Same.”
Catrina reached up and placed her palm against Dante’s cheek. Beneath her hand, she could still feel the tic working there. A sure sign of his stress and irritation. At least he wasn’t physically showing it more than that, though.
“The kids will be back soon,” she told him.
He cleared his throat, and looked away. “I’ll … take them out for a movie.”
Worked for her.
It would give Catrina the chance to figure something else out for him. This had not been enough. That much was clear.
“I love you, bello.”
Dante smiled, turned his head into her hand, and kissed her palm. “I know, Cat. Too much, I think.”
Never.
She didn’t correct him.
• • •
Catrina sat on the edge of the desk both she and her husband used, and placed the ringing phone to her ear. After only a couple of rings, her mother-in-law picked up the call.
“Cecelia,” Catrina said, smiling. “I expected Antony.”
She had called his office phone number, after all.
Cecelia laughed. “The kids tired him out today. He’s dead to the world in bed at the moment. We won’t tell him that I let you in on the secret, though.”
“Never.”
All men had their things.
Antony’s was refusing to acknowledge that he was getting older, and couldn’t always do what he had once done as a younger man.
The rest of them, however, said nothing.
“What can I do for you?” Cecelia asked. “Is this about the party details from yesterday? I know it’s a bit much and on a short deadline, but I’m sure you girls can handle it.”
Catrina waved those worries away with a quick, “It’s not the party, don’t concern yourself over that, Cecelia.”
“Then what?”
“Dante.”
“Dante,” her mother-in-law echoed.
Catrina called Antony because she thought her husband’s father might have a perspective on his son that could help her. One that might point her in the right direction where handling Dante’s stress and moods became a bit easier on them all.
Now, with Cecelia on the line, Catrina had a different thought. Her mother-in-law might be the better person to ask for perspective. Cecelia, too, had married a boss and lived with him through the most difficult times. She had to know what to do—or give Catrina some kind of worthy, usable advice.
“Did Antony ever have … spells of bad moods?” Catrina asked. Before Cecelia could answer, she added, “You know, times when work and life and all the rest got to be too much, and he didn’t handle it well. When nothing you did helped.”
After a long pause, Cecelia replied, “Usually every few years or so.”
“Like clockwork?”
“Men like Antony don’t know how to … well, relax, I guess. Just taking vacations for him were not actually vacations. Business was almost always involved somehow. So yes, I would say he didn’t know how to properly relax. It was something he needed to learn over time.”
“Did you help him with that?”
“Sometimes, and other times, I just let him work it out on his own.”
“Well, that is not going to work here,” Catrina muttered.
“Ah,” her mother-in-law said. “I’m assuming the time of year isn’t helping Dante, either.”
“Likely not.”
“There isn’t much I can do to help, Cat, except to say that regardless, it will pass. In the meantime, force him to take a step back, and relax.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
Cecelia hummed on the other end of the line. “I know someone who does.”