“GODDAMNIT RODRIGO!” Snake’s thunderous voice made them both jump as he paced around their kitchen island like a caged animal, Marissa’s phone clamped to his ear. “I don’t care if you have to dig a snow tunnel to get here ese. Just get your ass here and pick me up. You owe me, homeboy.”
Snake ended the call, tossing the phone back on the counter. He plucked a cookie off the tray sitting there and bit into the gingerbread head. “Got anything to drink in this place?”
“There’s beer in the fridge,” Marissa offered.
Snake opened the refrigerator and rummaged for one of Thom’s Coors Light. Twisting the cap off the bottle, his gaze shifted to Thom. A little smile curled his kissable lips as those dark eyes glided over Thom’s naked body, lingering on his flaccid penis.
“Looks like I interrupted something,” Snake said. “You two should really lock your doors. Don’t you know how many burglaries happen around Christmas?”
“Wha-What do you want?”
“Told you ese, just need a place to hang low awhile.” Snake cast a cursory look around the kitchen. “Besides, nothing you two have I need. But seeing how it looks like we’re going to be spending the night together we should get to know each other.”
Marissa stepped between them. “My husband’s name is Thom,” she said. “I’m Marissa.”
Those deep, honeyed eyes ensnared her where she stood. The thickening bulge beneath Thom’s borrowed sweatpants reminded her of her empty cunt.
“Well, Marissa,” Snake smiled over the longneck of his beer, “since you seem to be the one calling the shots here, tell your hubby he can get dressed. You too, chica, unless you two feel like finishing whatever it is you started.”
He licked his lips as he drank her in with his eyes.
Marissa held his gaze, defiant despite her pounding heart. “We are fine.”
Thom’s entire body flushed red as his face. He looked defeated, humiliated. Still, Marissa thought she saw his little member twitch between his legs.
Thom trailed off when Marissa flashed him a hard look. She knew what he was about to say. Snakes erection was more noticeable now, an obscene tent in the front of his borrowed sweats. He gave the thickness a smug tug, smiling at the way Marissa’s eyes lingered.
“I think wifey here sees something she wants for Christmas, hombre,” Snake chuckled. Thom gave a pathetic squeak. “No worries, man. Not really in the business of breaking up marriages. What God brought together, and all that.”
Snake drained the rest of his beer and grabbed another from the fridge before pushing past Marissa and Thom, and back into the living room. Both gaped after him a second before following. The twinkle of Christmas lights mixing with the glow from the fireplace lent a soft warmth to the downstairs. Snake went to the mantle where two overstuffed stockings hung, eyeing their wedding photos.
“No kids?” he asked.
“No,” Marissa answered.
Snake searched her face, his dark eyes penetrating. “Cute couple like you should have at least a couple little ones running around.”
“We don’t,” Marissa said.
What she left unsaid was that Thom’s sperm lacked the motility needed to get her pregnant, which was fine with Marissa. She preferred the independence of being childless, though the idea of kids had grown more and more appealing over the past few years—almost as pressing as her need to come.
Snake shrugged, returning his eyes to the photo. “You are one hot blanca, no doubt about that.”
“How long are you planning on keeping us hostage here?” Thom asked, more assertive than Marissa would have imagined considering he was naked, bashfully trying to cover himself.
“You already tired of me, hombre?” Snake said. He took a long draught of his beer and set the bottle on the mantle. “Just till my buddy gets here, then I’m ghost. All goes the way I hope, we all stand to get a little something in return.”
Snake’s dark eyes snapped to Marissa. “Impressive, blanca, no?”
Marissa realized she was staring again. Her eyes danced between the faces of the two men—Thom with something of a scorned look to his blue eyes; Snake with a hungry gleam in his. Marissa’s face heated beneath the combined weight of their stares.
“What’s the matter?” Snake said, his accent going straight to Marissa’s pussy. “Hubby not giving you what you need?”
“Thom is a good provider,” Marissa said, the words trembling on her lips.
Snake laughed. “I’m not talking about the house, the job, the white fucking picket fence, blanca.” He made a rude gesture with his hips that made Marissa ache. “I’m talking about fucking, chica, about sex. How does Thom here take care of you where it counts?”
If you liked what you read and want to see how things end up for Marissa and Thom, check out Cuck’d for Christmas on Amazon here and feel free to leave a review. Otherwise, I wish everyone a warm season. May your stockings be hung and full to bursting.
See you next year!