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It had started with Frankie, the first time you hosted Christmas Eve after you two first bought the house. Violeta and Rosie were still a few years away, but Frankie still had a handful of nieces and nephews, along with the rest of his family which proved to be just a little too many people for your very modest house. There were folding chairs added in every room and there were still people who only had room to stand.
Thankfully his family had all brought different dishes leaving you to only have to cook a few more to put out with the rest. You had been mingling around as the hostess, looking to refresh drinks or see if anyone needed anything else, when your husband found you with a hand to your hip, “Girasol, the pantry door downstairs is stuck. Need your help.” The two of you excused yourselves from the current conversation you had been part of and together headed to the one place there were no guests, the not-yet-finished basement.
Following your broad-shouldered man down the stairs, he turns around when he steps off the last stair and watches you do the same.
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be, you’re clearly the stronger one,” you’re speaking, not realizing the quiet amusement on his face. When he doesn’t move, you finally look at him, “What?”
Frankie reaches out taking your hand, “No issue with the door, baby. Just wanted to give us a break for a minute.” That break turned into you two making out before Frankie had your legs wrapped around his waist and he fucked you against the wall.
The second time was all you when the boys had been over for a barbeque. Frankie was manning the grill, his t-shirt looking like it was painted onto his strong shoulders and broad chest. The hair at his nape was curling out from the edge of his ball cap and his biceps were so muscular with every movement. The summer had tanned him beautifully and you watched as his gorgeous smile took over his face as he laughed at something Santi said.
He had you swooning as if you simply had a crush instead of being married to him. An ache had begun to settle between your legs and the slight breeze that would make itself under the hem of your dress did nothing to cool the heat pooling there, too.
Stepping over to him, you touched his lower back as Santi’s attention had turned from him to Will.
“Honey, I need your help with the pantry door downstairs. It’s stuck.”
Frankie didn’t seem to understand your true meaning at first since it had been a several months since Christmas Eve. He just nodded with a loving grin saved only for you and replied, “No problem, mi amor,” before asking Santi to watch over the meats. He followed you into the house and once you were safely inside, you turned to him, “Did I tell you what I forgot today?”
Frankie’s brows knitted as he shook his head, “What is it?”
You slowly pulled the skirt of your sundress up until he saw exactly what you forgot to put on today. It’s clear on his face the exact moment he realizes what your request really was. He throws a glance over his shoulder to make sure the guys aren’t paying attention and then he crowds against you by the basement door as you dropped the fabric back into place.
Smirking, “Pantry door again, huh?” His large hands covering your hips, brushing the tip of his nose tenderly against yours.
Nodding, “Finicky thing it is,” you slip a hand down to cup his growing bulge.
There’s a jerk of his hips before you feel the heft of him press more against your palm, “We better get downstairs then.”
That time he had you bent over the washing machine as he took you hard from behind.
It became your own little secret code after that. Family gatherings and friends’ nights, it was used sparingly but also as often as you two could manage without rousing suspicion. Sometimes when it was overheard, someone would say “You haven’t gotten that fixed yet?” Sometimes you both shrugged or Frankie would offer, “I’ve tried, but it’s a finicky thing,” mimicking your words from that second time.
It’s been an ongoing thing between you two for years now. Frankie was the latest to use it.
The guys had all come over for dinner and to watch a boxing match on tv. The men had thoroughly entertained the girls while you prepared dinner, you hearing nothing but their sweet giggles coming from the living room. They even fell asleep twenty minutes before their usual bedtime from all the excitement. The moment started when you passed through the living room to head downstairs to finish some laundry, throwing a smile at the men as they clapped in excitement as their favorite landed a hearty punch. What you didn’t notice though was your husband’s eyes on you as you walked by. Frankie waited a couple minutes before heading down himself.
Hearing footsteps you look at the staircase, “Everything okay?”
Frankie reaches the floor and heads your way, “Everything’s perfect. Just needed something from the pantry but I realized the door’s a bit stuck,” his lop-sided grin appearing and making your heart flutter.
The smile is instant on your face, “Pity. What did you need?”
His hand slides tenderly along your jaw until he’s cupping your cheek, “Pretzels. All out upstairs. In a totally unrelated matter, there may be a pile of pretzels next to the couch that I’ll clean up later.”
You can’t help but giggle at his clever ways, but he cuts you off with his smile pressed against your own, his lips fitting perfectly to yours.