Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“They are Mamma’s favorite, silly.”
I frowned, pretending to be perplexed. “Ah, yes. That’s right, bella regazza. Well, then what are my favorite cookies?”
“She’s not old enough to answer that,” Gabriella giggled as she sashayed into the room.
“Yes, I am!” Bella chirped. “Papà’s favorite cookies are Mamma’s. Oh! Then I guess pizzicati is your favorite!”
She smacked a kiss on my cheek, then wiggled so I would set her down before skipping off to the table where she was adding jam to little circles of dough. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the deep look of concentration on her face as her little tongue stuck out the side of her mouth. Damn, my kids were cute.
“Is she right?” Gabriella asked softly as she sidled up next to me with a sassy grin.
“About what, sole mio?” I turned and drew her into the circle of my arms.
“Are my cookies your favorite?”
“Based on experience, I’d have to say yes.” I left it hanging with a “but” in the air.
When I didn’t continue, Gabriella frowned. “You don’t know?”
I grinned and turned us around so that her body was hidden from view before slipping my hand under her skirt to cup her pussy. “I’m going to need more samples of these cookies, sole mio.”
“Good thinking,” she giggled breathlessly.
Two of my fingers slid beneath the gusset of her panties, and I curled them into her wetness. “Hmm, always so ready for me to taste you.”
Gabriella sucked in a breath, and her hands gripped my shoulders. “Mico!” she hissed. “You have to stop. Bella is right there!”
I sighed, knowing she was right. But before I let Gabriella go, I took my fingers from her pussy and licked them clean. “Definitely my favorite treat,” I groaned.
Gabriella’s brown eyes looked like melted chocolate, and she licked her lips, tempting me with her sweetness.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I grunted, taking a step back to put some space between us.
“Do what?”
“Get even more tempting every fucking day.”
“Mico! Watch your language!” she whispered, her eyes darting in the direction of Bella, who was barely aware of our existence at that moment.
“Papà?” Our almost three-year-old, Adelina, wandered into the room, rubbing her eyes, obviously just waking up from a nap.
Our youngest, Sebastiano, was only three months old, so he wouldn’t be up for another hour or so.
“Ciao, dolce ragazza,” I greeted her as I scooped her into my arms and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready for dance class?”
“Yay!” she screeched, suddenly wide awake.
I laughed and gently set her on her feet.
“Why don’t you girls go get dressed?” Gabriella suggested as she opened the oven and stuck a tray of cookies inside to bake.
They both ran from the room with excited chatter that made me smile.
“As long as we’ve been together, I still can’t get used to seeing you smile so much,” my wife teased.
“I never had much to smile about before you came into my life and gave me three beautiful babies.”
“Nobody believes me when I tell them how sweet and cuddly you are,” Gabriella mock sighed.
I raised an eyebrow. “Thank fuck for that.”
She laughed, and I bent my head to take her mouth in a deep kiss, but we were interrupted by the wail of a baby over the monitor.
“Those girls,” Gabriella sighed. “If they wake him up early from his nap one more time…”
Together, we went upstairs, and I headed into the nursery to get our piccolo uomo, while she helped the girls finish getting ready for dance class.
After I changed his diaper, I settled Sebastiano in the crook of my arm and carried him downstairs. By the time we reached the last step, he was smacking his lips, clearly hungry. “Sorry, piccolo uomo, that’s your mamma’s department. Not that I fault your taste.”
The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of Gabriella’s sister, Chiara, who was picking up the girls to take them to dance and then a sleepover with their Nonna Luca—as opposed to Nonna Angel. When she was first born, we hadn’t been sure how to distinguish between her grandmothers, so we’d gotten into the habit of using their last names. But Bella had said Luca, rather than DeLuca and Angel, instead of De Angelis. They stuck, and it was how all the grandkids referred to them now.
For a few minutes, there was complete chaos as Gabriella and Chiara got Bella and Adelina packed up and out the door while I kept Sebastiano occupied so he wouldn’t start bellowing because he wanted food. And the kid had some fucking lungs on him. Then again, he was Italian.
When they were gone, Gabriella came to get our piccolo uomo for his dinner.
We went to the den and sat on the couch where I could watch television while my wife fed our boy. I tucked them both into my side, feeling content, something I’d only ever experienced after claiming Gabriella.