Page 25 of Married with Mayhem

And gravity once again proves to be my lifelong enemy as I topple right out of Monte’s bed and land on the floor. My ear piercing scream is involuntary. Regrettably, it attracts some attention.

The sounds of energetic sex screech to a halt. Footsteps come thundering. The door is thrown open and light from the hallway floods the room.

A Greek God stands in the doorway.

No, an Italian God.

One that’s easily six-foot-two with gladiator shoulders and wearing only a pair of shorts as a gun dangles from his right hand.

“Sabrina!” growls God in the voice of Monte Castelli. He crosses the room in three long strides and crouches beside me as I sit on the floor in a daze with his pillow in my lap.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

I really am. The bed sits low to the floor and I didn’t have far to fall. All my limbs are still connected. No harm done.

Monte switches on the table lamp. He must have just had a shower. Pieces of damp black hair fall over his forehead. His gold chain is still around his neck. The fact that I find this deeply interesting probably has something to do with the way the gold cross contrasts with the impeccably defined muscles of his chest.

“What happened?” A breathless Nico now crowds the doorway. He holds a pillow over his crotch but is otherwise naked.

“What happened?” An equally breathless Livy echoes as she joins her lover. She’s toga-wrapped in a bedsheet.

“Nothing!” I wave my arm in the air. “I’m just an idiot. Everyone go back to what you were doing and pretend I’m not here.”

Monte stares at me, shakes his head, and finally sets his gun down on the table before extending an oversized paw of a hand. “Up you go,” he says in the tone one might use with a five-year-old.

“This is no big deal,” I mutter, although when I jump to my feet too much weight lands on my bad ankle and I wince.

Monte raises an eyebrow and straightens up. Then he notices his brother remains in the doorway with nothing but a striped pillowcase coming between us and the view of Nico’s dick.

“Would you get outta here?” Monte barks. “Nobody wants to see that shit.”

“Sorry,” Nico says sheepishly and starts to edge out of the doorway.

Livy giggles and wraps her arms around his neck. Her toga sheet slips.

“And keep the volume down,” Monte says. “They can hear you in Jersey.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Look who’s talking. As if you haven’t done ten times worse when-”

His voice abruptly cuts off. The murderous look from his brother probably has something to do with the way he loses his train of thought.

That’s too bad. I was actually interested in hearing whatever story he was about to share.

“I’m really sorry for the interruption,” I say. “Feel free to carry on, you guys.”

This seems like an appropriate sendoff to encourage orgasms. Livy smiles and pulls Nico back into his bedroom.

Funny thing about Nico Castelli. He’s every bit as good looking and fiercely ripped as his big brother. And we’ve always been on very friendly terms. All in all, I’m sure I’ve exchanged far more pleasant words with him than with Monte. Nico never makes me want to scream with frustration or brood over prospective comebacks.

So why did I recoil and avert my eyes when Nico stood there with only his pillow shield while I struggled to contain my drool over the sight of his brother’s bare chest?

Don’t know. It’s a mystery.

But now I’m left all alone with Monte and he’s giving me one of his classic‘Why are you so fucking weird?’looks that make me feel as tall as a bug.

I’m glad I kept my bra on beneath this I Love New York tee. I don’t usually sleep in a bra. But this late night encounter might be even more awkward if my tingling, erect nipples were on display.

Speaking of erect things…

---