My Funny Valentina (9 page)

Cheap.

S
he’d make Stash a delicious dinner, she thought, planning out the menu in her head.  Grill a couple of juicy steaks, roast a few potatoes and make a tossed salad.
 
Yes, he always loved when she made him that meal…and finish it up with his favorite dessert – Black Forest Cake, a rich, decadent chocolate confection topped with whipped cream and cherries. 

I just got
a pint of cherries yesterday at the market.

A
sound from the vicinity of the kitchen stopped her booted foot in mid-step.  With a feeling of dread building, Valentina turned on her heel.  Walked in the halting steps of a condemned prisoner to the ultra-modern chef’s kitchen with its white, black and grey motif echoed in the subtle travertine mosaic backsplash.  The modern kitchen where Stash stood waiting in similarly themed dark dress pants, white shirt and grey silk tie, leaning with one lithe hip against the granite-topped island in the middle of the floor.  His arms were crossed over his broad chest in a pose that had probably meant
‘I’m pissed off’
way before language was even invented. An expressive black eyebrow zoomed skyward taking in the brevity of her outfit, the corners of his grim mouth going in the opposite direction. 

‘
Is that from the Macy’s winter collection?’

Valentina ignored the sarcastic comment,
her scarlet-tinted lips tightening into one line in anticipation of a battle.  ‘I didn’t expect you to make it home so soon in this weather.’

‘
Clearly.’

‘
I thought you would probably stop and check on your mother before you headed home since there’s a winter storm warning issued.’

His lips twisted. 
‘So you’re going to try to make this about my
mother
, Val?’

‘
No!  I’m not making it about
anything!
’ She hesitated, decided to take it to where it
really
needed to go.  ‘Look, Stash, if you’re angry about today…or about last night…just say so and let’s talk –’

‘
Now, why would I be angry, Val?  Angry I married a woman I love with the expectation we would one day have a family or at least
talk
about the decision if we don’t,’ Stash ground out the seething accusation.  ‘Angry because I left work early to make it home to my wife on Valentine’s Day, thinking maybe she needed a little romance – a little more of my time and attention.  Angry because I expected to share a nice cozy evening safe from the storm, enjoying a delicious homemade meal she’d slaved over all day?’

‘
Well is
that
what this is about, Stash?  You mean you’re
finally
hungry? ‘ She flung a few of her own bitter charges right back at him. ‘What’s wrong didn’t ‘
mana mou’
cook for you today?’

Stash gave a
harsh bite of humorless laughter, ‘you know what, Val, you’re right.  Silly of me to expect you would be home preparing a romantic meal waiting anxiously for your husband to return through the harsh winter elements.  From the looks of it, you’ve probably already fed a lot of appetites today.’  He turned away from her with a look telegraphing his disgust then quickly turned back.  ‘Just out of curiosity, what does an outfit like that sell anyway – besides
you
?’

‘
Sports cars!’  Valentina stamped over to the built-in subzero refrigerator, yanking open the freezer section.  ‘Grilled steaks,’ she muttered, rooting around the icy contents snatching out two frozen steaks then swinging wide the refrigerator door.  ‘Greek salad,’ she clenched grabbing two plump tomatoes, feta cheese, cucumber, a head of romaine lettuce, bottle of salad dressing, juggling her bounty to keep from dropping it.

‘
What are you doing?’ he growled from the side of his mouth.

‘
Why, I’m making a romantic Valentine’s dinner for my darling husband, of course!’ She spat out the sarcastic response with head still stuck deep in the fridge. ‘And we certainly can’t forget the dessert,’ she snagged a can of whip cream and pint of cherries. ‘Black Forest Cake,’ she announced with mock fanfare, ‘
yummy!
’  Tipping down a bag of flour from the walk-in butler pantry, adding two golden potatoes from the bin into her overloaded arms, she turned, slamming the collected items down onto the kitchen island where they scattered in all directions. 

Stash watched
with his lips tightly clamped together.  Making no comment as she jerked open a drawer removing a sharp butcher knife she used to chop up one of the tomatoes in uneven chunks on the cutting board, her fingertips in grave danger of amputation with her eyes blurred by the tears she refused to wipe away.  Her head lifted only when he strode over and grabbed his navy overcoat from the back of a chair at the kitchen table, jaw line rigid as he pulled it on.

‘
Where are you going, Stash?  Your romantic Valentine’s dinner’s not ready yet!’

He
dealt her a cold flat look. ‘I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.’  He turned and jerked open the door to the garage – and it was only a fat red tomato whizzing perilously close to his ear before splattering onto the door and all over the front of his previously immaculate white shirt that kept him from exiting.

‘Don’t leave without at least having some salad first!  Oh, and don’t forget your favorite cake!’

Stash’s
broad shoulders stiffened when the bag of flour she’d heaved across the room hit the wall above his head and split open, dusting his hair in a shroud of powdery white.  He slammed the door dripping with pulpy juice shut, and spun back around.

‘
You know, I think you’re right.  I
am
hungry after all.’ Shrugging off his flour-bombed coat, he dropped it onto the kitchen floor, carelessly stepping on the cashmere-lined garment as he stalked towards her.  ‘
Very
hungry!’ His fingers made quick work of the buttons of his stained shirt, shedding it in one economic movement, his muscle-packed chest temptingly revealed. ‘In fact, Valentina, I think we’ve
both
been starving for awhile now, so why don’t we break all the rules of etiquette and start with dessert…’ 

H
e rushed her – before her fight-or-flight instinct could kick in – boxing her in against the edge of the island.  His mouth dove down, capturing hers in the middle of the protest forming on her lips, persuasively transforming her heated exclamation from a curse to a drawn out moaning of his name. Stash stretched a long arm behind her, swiping all the food items she’d gathered off the island on to the floor with a deafening echoing clatter.  Lifting her up beneath her armpits, he laid her out atop the cool grey-and-black granite as though she was to be his main course. 

‘
Stash,’ she moaned again as he yanked the leather shorts down, fingers boring their way through a layer of fishnets and lacy panties before he spread her legs wide, going down between them with a wicked punishing smile.  ‘Mmm mmm,
good
,’ Stash’s head lifted a few
magnificent
moments later, licking lips moist with her loving, his eyes mere slits of fevered darkness, ‘and it’s my absolute favorite flavor –
Valentina
…’ 

H
er fingers clenched tight in his floured curls when his head lowered again, used them to guide him right to the throbbing spot where she needed him to be.  Valentina felt the pleasure rushing forth like a freight train as his tongue glided over the swollen nub of flesh, propelling her at the speed of light towards the clamoring climatic culmination…

‘
Anastasi-oh, oh,
ohhhhh!
’  Valentina shook out his name on a husky exclamation, her body trembling, thighs quivering as he kept his mouth to her – would not release her until she wilted against him, her fingers going lax in his hair.  Only then did he pull away, standing and unzipping his pants with urgent fingers.

‘
I hope to God, you’re hungry too, Val!’ 

Valentina
sat up on the island reaching for him, sucking him in between parted, voracious lips.  Her darkened green eyes recalled ‘two damn jewels shining up at me,’ he whispered hoarse, as her tongue slid itself down and around his turgid length.  ‘
Valentina!
’  His eyes drifted closed, knuckles clenching against the edge of the granite island he gripped to anchor himself in a perfect storm of emotion-drenched sensation. 

H
is breath hissed through his teeth, groaning a guttural Greek curse word, then another and another, as the tidal wave visibly engulfed him, the tall frame pitching and keeling as it nearly took him under. He eventually stilled – but was still hungry apparently, his eyes opening up hotter, smokier,
blacker
than she’d ever seen them before.  ‘Would you like another helping, Val?’ he asked throatily.

‘
Yes!
’ Valentina, a helpless victim of her own hungry passions, pleaded, ‘please, sir…may I have some more!’

Stash
gave a grim laugh. ‘Funny, Valentina.’ He dispensed with her last remaining item of clothing, ripping the silky heart in two between his fists, flinging the raggedly torn fabric away to skid half way across the kitchen floor.  His pants met the floor next; her hands eagerly helping his push boxer briefs all the way down muscular calves to his ankles before he nudged her curvy bare bottom closer to the edge of the island. 

‘I’m ready for the second course, Stash!’

‘You got it, babe, with extra whipped cream on top.’ He scooped the can up from the floor, shaking it and spraying a foamy trail down her body leading the way south. ‘Now where’s those damn cherries,’ he mimed looking around him, ‘ah hell, I already
got
your cherry, didn’t I, Valentina?’ 

She
couldn’t help her gasp at his crude comment and he gave a dark chuckle at her reaction, bending his head to feast ravenous at the creamy crest of each breast.  ‘Now you be sure to tell me when you’ve had enough,’ Stash’s taunt was blurred by an overload of passion, heavy lidded eyes locked on her half-closed ones, drilling himself into her in smoothly oiled strokes like a piston.

Valentina’s arms
snaked around his neck, remaining defiant, panting the admission into his ear, ‘it’s
never
enough with you, Stash – I want another heaping spoonful – all that you have!’ 

‘
Little glutton, aren’t you?’ he muttered, voice raw and rough, ‘but please allow me to...
supersize...’
He ground his hips against hers so she could feel every inch of his erection that had never seemed harder, never seemed larger...never felt more necessary, ‘that order for you, ma’am!
’

The talking stopped then as they
both got serious, their lovemaking becoming a buffet, a cornucopia – everything either had wanted, been missing over the last angry weeks, served up upon panted out request and offered with no reservation. 

Stash
hoisted her off the island upright into his arms with a superhuman, passion-fueled strength, her legs coiling around his waist.  Her swollen breasts flattened themselves against the slickened, hair-roughened muscles of his chest, Stash jogging her up and down on him, creating a heated friction that gave no warning of coming catastrophe before exploding in a nuclear fission annihilating them both, leaving them limp, helpless casualties of the blast. 

When the
ir interwoven moans and groans ceased, the huffing finally halting, he eased her back down to a sitting position on the island, his hands clasping her thighs with a bruising pressure. Stash kept his head averted to the left; Valentina kept hers to the right, trying to numbly piece together what in
holy hell
had just happened!  Eventually he ducked from beneath her clinging arms, moved out from between her thighs.  Separated their whole into two halves. 

With
palms biting into the edge of the island, eyes glued to the melting mess on the floor, she listened to identify the sounds Stash made. That
s-s-s-s-s-s
was the faucet of the kitchen sink running as he ducked his head beneath it rinsing the flour from his hair.  There was the
bam!
of the dryer door swinging closed after he extracted a clean t-shirt, the rasping
z-z-z-zip
of his pants zipper rising back up, overcoat picked up from the floor, shook out then shrugged over his shoulders with a muted rustle. 

When she heard the
ominous
cr-r-r-eak
of the back door to the garage opening, she forced herself to look up.  ‘Where...where are you going in this storm?’ The question came out ragged in spots, her throat tight with emotion, making a hash of it.

Stash’s hand stilled on the doorknob.  His damp head twisted back to her over his shoulder, two blank empty orbs where his eyes usually were. ‘I’m going to go check on my mother, Valentina.  I think we both have finally had enough here – don’t you?’