sweater, I don’t know what the hell I thought. I liked it, though.
After the debacle downstairs, I didn’t know what to expect when I got up here. I know, though, that my sister paid her a visit from her question.
Sneaky Michela. What the hell are you up to?
Cristina mutters something, burrowing closer.
I look down at her.
She fell asleep before I finished cleaning her up last night. Passed out probably from the whiskey and the fucking.
The thought of that fucking stirs my dick.
She’s perfect. Her body ready and wanting, her fingers eager to get herself off. Although maybe that’s because she was drunk. Pretty sure, sober, she wouldn’t so readily play with herself on my command.
But maybe she was trying to deflect my attention, too. It worked, if that was it. She was doing something when I walked in here. Crouched by the bed. I have no idea what, but she looked guilty as sin. I make a mental note to have a look around later.
I pull the blanket up over her shoulder. Her hair tickles my chin as she stirs, then sets her cheek against my chest with a quiet sigh.
I don’t remember the last time I slept with a woman. Fucked, yes, but never slept with. Either I leave or they leave when I’m done with them. And I’ve never brought one home.
Not that Cristina would be here if she had the choice. I’m pretty sure she’d choose to be anywhere but here.
She’s moving again, waking up slowly. Her brain is probably trying to process the foreign entity in her bed.
I grin. I’m looking forward to seeing her face when she sees me upon opening her eyes. When she remembers what we did. What she asked for.
I keep my hand on her hip. I can’t fuck her this morning. I’m pretty sure she’s raw after last night. Maybe I’ll get her off with my tongue before I let her out of bed.
As if on cue, her body tenses. I feel her eyelashes flutter against my skin as she blinks once, twice. Then seems to stop breathing altogether.
Here we go.
She bolts upright, wincing either from a sore pussy or a headache from the whiskey. Probably both. She looks at me accusingly, tugging the blankets to cover herself.
“Hey, don’t be greedy,” I say casually, tugging some of the blanket back.
“What the hell are you doing in here? In my bed?”’
I look at her, then let my gaze slide over her. One leg is free of the blankets, and it’s like she realizes at that moment she’s naked. I watch as the memories flood back, and I smile.
“There is no my bed or your bed anymore, sweetheart. There’s only our bed. We’re married, remember?”
“Get out!”
“Not what you were saying last night. Come here.” I put a hand over her lap and make like I’m going to pull her to me.
“Get away from me!”
Sitting up, I lean toward her and brush her hair away from her face. “You invited me to stay last night. Don’t you remember? You rolled onto your belly and spread those beautiful legs and begged me to fuck you.”
Her face burns beet red. “I didn’t beg you. I just…I was drunk. You took advantage.”
“Do you remember how hard you came on my dick?”
She remembers and she’s embarrassed so instead of answering me, she turns away. “What time is it?”
I check my watch. “Ten.”
She looks over at me, down at the outline of my erection beneath the blanket, then quickly up at my face.
“Look, whatever happened last night, I was drunk, and it’s done. We’re not doing that again. There’s no need. Your family even saw the sheets. Marriage is consummated. End of story.”
“No, not the end of the story. We will definitely be doing it again. And what’s more, you want to do it again. Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart.” I push the blanket off and stand up fully naked.
Her gaze drops to my dick, which is hard, a state it is getting used to being around her.
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she says, trying to avert her gaze.
“You can look. I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do.”
“Come on. We’ll take a shower, then go down to breakfast. I’m sure you’re starving, and you’ll want something for your headache.”
“I don’t have a headache, and I’m not showering with you or eating with you.”