Pulling up in front of the restaurant, I don’t even have to get out. The hostess makes her way toward my driver’s side, a bag in her hand. Rolling down my window, I reach for the bag. With my other hand, I slip her some cash, including a big tip.
“Thank you, sir,” she purrs.
Smirking up at her, I shake my head. “Thanks, babe.”
She takes a step away, and without a glance back at her, I shift my car into reverse and head home to my wife. Wife. The thought still feels extremely foreign. She is my wife and even though I was just gone for a few hours, I do find that I miss her already.
It doesn’t take long for me to make it home. Pulling into the garage, I close the door behind me before I get out of the car. Grabbing the bag of food, I can smell the fresh bread coming from the bag. The joint from earlier doing its job of relaxing me, but also making me fucking hungry.
Opening the door, I walk directly into the kitchen. Taking some plates out of the cabinet, I start arranging the food. The house is quiet and I assume that Pippa is upstairs getting ready for me, or maybe even waiting for me.
Once I’m finished, I take the plates into the dining room and set them down, then grab silverware and a napkin before I find a nice bottle of wine.
This won’t be an every night thing, but for the first night in our home together, I do want to make it nice. I’m an asshole, but I’m not that big of an asshole, this is only our third day of being married.
Grabbing a couple of glasses, I pour us each some wine and set the glasses on the table, then the bottle of wine between the plates before I head upstairs to find my wife. The second floor is quiet, but there is soft light pouring from the bedroom.
Pippa is there, standing at the window, looking out at the lights of the other buildings around us. My breath catches at the sight of her. She’s wearing a knee-length nude see-through skintight dress thing.
Her black hair is down her back, skimming just above her ass, and when my gaze catches her feet, I smirk. She’s wearing sky-high nude high heels to finish off the sexy as fuck look.
“Turn around, let me see all of you,” I demand gently, leaning my shoulder against the doorjamb.
Without a single word, she slowly turns around. I keep my eyes focused up so that I can see her face before I take in the rest of her body. She has a full face of makeup and I frown. It’s too much fucking makeup.
“Why’d you put all that shit on your face?” I ask.
She licks her berry red lips, taking a step toward me, then pauses. “I wanted to look nice for you,” she breathes.
Shaking my head, I push off the door and move toward her. Reaching for her waist, I wrap my fingers around her and tug her against my chest, welcoming the way her soft tits feel pressed against me.
Dropping my chin, I touch my mouth to hers. “I like you just as you are, Pippa. I don’t need all this shit on your face, dolcezza. You’re fucking beautiful completely bare.”
Her hands press against my chest, and she sighs against my lips. “Okay, Massimo.”
“Hungry?” I ask, my hand sliding down to her ass and squeezing her.
She nods, then takes a step back, I allow it because I haven’t taken a good look at her in the outfit. I’m unable to hold back my moan when I see her sweet nipples through the cups of her slip, then drag my gaze down to her pussy and almost whimper at the sight of her bare cunt.
“No panties tonight?”
She laughs softly. “You just rip them,” she whispers.
Grinning, I hold out my hand. She slips her palm in mine and I wrap my fingers around hers before I tug her closer to me. “I do, don’t I?”
“You do, they’re expensive. I’m trying to save you money.” She laughs softly again.
“I’ll buy you a pair for every day of the year just so that I can rip them all,” I say as we walk down the stairs.
“You’re crazy.” She giggles.
My chest fills with pride at the fact that I’ve pulled a giggle from her. It’s the sweetest victory and I know that soon, I will win her completely.
We have some hurdles to get through, some things to learn about one another. She has some things to learn about her new life, but in the end, I know that without a doubt, I will win her over and she will be glad that she’s mine.
PIPPA
I should feel uncomfortable about eating in high heels and a see-through negligee, but I don’t. I’m not sure if it’s because this has become a requirement of my marriage or if I’m just not as shy as I was a few days ago. Whatever the case, I can’t deny that I enjoy the way my husband watches me from across the table.
Picking up my wine glass, I bring it to my lips. Massimo reaches across the table and holds his palm up. I stop, my glass touching my lips.
“A toast?”
Setting my glass down, I lick my lips as I shift my gaze to meet his. Those obsidian eyes watch me. My breath hitches as I wait for what he’s going to say. With him, I’m starting to discover that I can’t guess what he’s going to say in his next breath.
“To a long happy marriage, dolcezza. We’ll have la dolce vita, Pippa. I can feel it in my bones,” he murmurs.
Reaching across the table, I touch
