“I know,” I said, nodding. “Why do you keep denying yourself this?” I asked. “Your pussy aches thinking about me, admit it.”
She was too far gone to even try to think of her walls, of her guards, of her pride.
“Yes.”
“So stop denying yourself what you really want,” I said as my other hand moved between us, working her clit, driving her up harder and faster, knowing this wasn’t going to be an all-day thing because my walls were screaming with their need for release. It had been too long. I needed the feel of her too fucking much. I’d been miserable without being able to touch her.
“You can have my cock anytime you want it, lamb,” I told her. “In your pussy. In your ass,” I said, knowing we would get there one day, that she wanted it as much as I did. But I finished with a darker desire of mine, one I wasn’t even sure she would ever give me. “In your mouth,” I added, watching as a flicker of heat crossed her eyes at the thought, giving me hope.
Maybe someday.
If we could find a middle ground.
If we could stop making each other miserable.
But this wasn’t that day.
And her pussy was crushing my cock, hinting at her release just seconds before it crashed through her system, milking mine from me at the same time, leaving us both spent and panting afterward.
“Told you I please you like a husband should,” I told her after, watching as her heavy lids flickered open.
“It’s not enough, Primo,” she said, voice small, sad, and a lot more vulnerable than she was usually willing to give me. “It’s not enough.”
“What would be enough, lamb? What do you want from me?”
“Christmas,” she said, her eyes glassing up again. “I want Christmas.”
“You can have Christmas. You can have anything you want for Christmas.”
“I want to see my family,” she said, and it was all starting to make sense even as another couple of tears slipped down her face. “You’re stealing Christmas from me. It’s not fair. I just want one fucking day. And you are too much of a monster even to give me that.”
“Isabella, you didn’t even ask.”
“You won’t give me that. You would never let me go. You’re such a—“
“No,” I cut her off, shaking my head. “No. We’re not having a Goddamn argument when I’m still fucking inside you,” I said, feeling no small bit of pleasure when her pussy tightened around me at the words. “You can have it. One day,” I said, shrugging. “But I have to come.”
“What? No. You hate my family. My family hates you.”
“I don’t hate your family. And your family doesn’t know me.”
“You can’t go.”
“It’s with me or not at all, lamb. Are you going to ruin your own Christmas just because you’re being stubborn?”
“I hate you,” she hissed.
“Baby, that gets less and less convincing each time you say it,” I told her with a smirk as I slid out of her and moved away.
“You have a day to decide,” I told her, getting out of the shower and going to get changed before heading down to talk to my brothers.
I went ahead and set up the security plan for taking her to her family’s house.
Because Isabella was stubborn. But there was no way she was going to say no. She wanted to go too much.
And I wanted it for her.
Even if the whole thing sounded like a nightmare.
It was only one day.
If it all went off without any major upset, it could even prove to be the turning point for us I’d been waiting for.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Isabella
I’d sort of resigned myself to my first Christmas without my family in my entire life. Which was such a depressing thought that I went ahead and told myself that I wasn’t going to celebrate at all.
No decor or gifts. No endless cookie baking. No singing carols. And certainly no curling up on the couch with hot chocolate and watching cheesy, made-for-TV romantic Christmas movies.
I was just going to have a full-on boycott.
Which, admittedly, was almost as depressing as missing the holiday with my family.
And that was how I found myself in the shower, crying my heart out for something that was wholly out of my control.
I expected to be left alone because, as a whole, Primo had been giving me the space I clearly wanted. Probably because if he bothered me, I was quick to pick a fight. The only time he forced himself into my space was when I fell asleep on the couch and he came down and carried me to bed. Which, apparently, he viewed as a safety issue. And, admittedly, I kind of got that.
If someone broke in, I much preferred they shot Primo instead of me.
I never expected him to reach for me in one of my lowest moments. And instead of teasing me or telling me I was being dramatic, he just held me, just let me have my feelings. Then he offered me a solution to them.
Was I thrilled at the idea of bringing him home to meet my family? God, no. But if it was the only option, I wasn’t going to turn him down either.
Did I think it was going to be an absolute nightmare? Yeah, probably. But it was out of the apartment. And it was with my family. I would take a nightmare with my family over bliss in my gilded cage any day.
So with very little notice, I tripped into overdrive. I ran Dawson, Dulles, Vissi, and even Terzo ragged running my errands, grabbing gifts and supplies, and even some decor for the loft because I was suddenly feeling the spirit.
I spent endless hours putting up the giant tree, getting the ornaments just right, wrapping presents for my family, baking, and listening to my Christmas carols.
I didn’t watch my cheesy movies, though.
I guess my heart just couldn’t take it, watching all those couples get their romantic happily-ever-afters, knowing for sure now that I was never going to get the chance myself.
But still, by the time Christmas Eve rolled around and it was nearly time to head to my mom’s house, I was feeling pretty filled with the holiday spirit.
“Can you keep an eye on my baked ziti?” I asked, and it took Primo a moment to realize I’d been addressing him.
Yeah, that was how infrequently I spoke directly to him.
At his drawn-together brows, I said, “I need to get changed.” I waved down at my leggings and tee that I’d been cooking and baking in. “But I don’t want to burn the baked ziti. Can you keep an eye on it for me?”
I might have found it difficult to let myself admit that Primo had some positive traits. His cooking skills were one of them. I never trusted anyone with my food, but I knew he would take it out at exactly the right time.
Dawson and Dulles had been taking the packages out to the car.
They weren’t coming along.
Apparently, the brothers all had a tradition of getting Chinese food on Christmas Eve, and got together on Christmas Day for a meal. So my family traditions weren’t screwing with theirs.
I shouldn’t have cared.
But I knew what it was like to have your traditions stripped away. I didn’t want to be a part of doing that to anyone else.
Christmas Eve dinner at my mom’s house was a big to-do. I’d needed to order a new dress for it because my mom expected us to dress for the occasion. Luckily, I didn’t need to advise Primo on it since the man lived in suits.