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Birthday Gift
Calida
I smiled, listening to Malcolm say goodbye to the final guests. His surprise birthday party had gone off without a hitch. I picked up more of the scattered red plastic cups, stacking them as I headed over to the large blue recycle bin tucked away in the hall leading to the garage.
Arms circled my waist from behind, and he nuzzled my neck. “Mm, baby, I don’t know how you managed to pull this off without me knowing, but thank you.”
He kissed and nipped at my skin and my body responded instantly. We’d been together for nearly a year and a half, four of those months as a married couple, and still his slightest touch made me want to jump his bones. I reached back and ran my hand along his scruffy cheek.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
I swiveled and wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers in his dreads. His hazel eyes sparkled when he bent to meet me for the kiss I was after. His tongue swept across my mouth, and my lips parted to give him the entrance he’d silently requested. Mal’s hands cupped my ass, bringing me closer to his body and letting me know he wanted more of a celebration. I wanted it just as much, maybe more, knowing what I had planned for him.
The kiss ended, but our foreheads remained connected. “Happy birthday, baby. Go chill. I need to finish cleaning.”
“Nope. It can wait ’til morning. I want my gift.”
I drew my brows together and cocked my head to the side. “Gift? What gift? I spent two months trying to pull this off. That’s all the gift you get.”
He threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Right. Stop talking nonsense, woman.”
With lust evident in his gaze, he eyed me up and down, and everything south of the border tingled with anticipation. This man. My man. I wondered if I’d ever stop having this reaction, but one look at him and I knew that answer was no.
“I will be unwrapping something tonight.” His voice dropped, taking on a husky tone. One I knew all too well. “Even if it’s just you out of those tight jeans. Looking at your ass all night has been torture. I couldn’t properly hug anyone because of the constant hard-on you gave me.”
This time it was me who let out a hard laugh. I wiggled free. “These jeans? You like them?”
I turned so he had a side view as I ran my hand down the curve of my ass. “I mean, they’re nothing special, just something— AH!” My words were cut off when he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.
“Enough teasing, woman.”
I received a sharp smack on my ass, and he carried me upstairs with little effort. Once in the room, he gently set me on my feet then his lips were on mine. Hints of chocolate and coconut lingered from the cake. The kiss started slow and soft. His large, warm hands cradled my face with tenderness, and his lips descended quickly, ignited with deep passion. I grabbed his shirt, bunching the fabric in my fist, and I did my damnedest to erase any space between our bodies. The subtle ginger and tobacco scents in his cologne combined with the heat radiating from his hard body and the expert command of his tongue as his mouth devoured mine all worked together for sensory overload that had me happily drowning in a sea of Malcolm.
If he continued, I wouldn’t be able to keep my wits about me long enough to give him his gift. Malcolm pulled away and gripped the hem of my shirt.
I put my hands over his. “No, wait!”
“Baby, please. It’s my birthday.”
I laughed again. The man was pouting. Like, actually pouting. Bottom lip stuck out and everything.
“Aww. I promise. I promise we’re going to. We are. As many times as I can take it. But first…you do have a gift.”
After a quick peck to his cheek, I ran over to the closet. With a large smile on my face, I handed him the gift bag. His face lit up and he all but danced his way over to the bed and took a seat. I chewed on my thumbnail and ran my other thumb over my wedding ring.
The blue and green tissue paper went flying. He was like a big kid when it came to getting gifts. I just hoped he liked this one as much as I anticipated he would. A combination of a wrinkled brow and pinched lips took over his features when he pulled out the small Mason jar. I’d decorated it with blue and black ribbons making it hard but not impossible to see inside.
On the lid, I’d taped a pink piece of paper to it. My list, with love.
He shook the jar, and the folded colorful papers rattled around inside. “Your list? What?”
I nodded and shifted my weight from side to side. “My kinky to-do list.”
His confused expression transformed into raised eyebrows and widened eyes, accompanied by a delightful full-faced grin as those words sank in.
We’d joked around about it here and there, but always as just a joke, never something I’d seriously considered until the approach of his birthday.
“Ginger. Are you fucking with me?”
