Page 101 of Replay
Alist of things that are the absolute worst after you make up with your boyfriend and want to rip his clothes off:
Baby shower clean-up
Monstrous kids who won’t get out of the bouncy castle for the nice men to take down their equipment
Mummies and Daddies who look at the bouncy castle as a free babysitter so don’t seem bothered by said monstrous children
Professional footballers who should be in training but seem determined to drink every last drop of alcohol so none goes to waste
Friendly seniors who fancy a nice cup of tea after said baby shower
Overeager parents who linger for far too long nearly missing their flight home just because they can’t stop talking to my boyfriend
Okay…that one wasn’t so bad.In fact, it was quite nice.
After we tracked down the punch bowls from where little Teddy and Oliver had stashed them underneath some parked cars, I marched Santino over to my parents and introduced him as my boyfriend. Neither of them missed a beat as they stood up and cooed that they’d heard so much about him. My dad tried to score free legal advice, and my mum asked Santino what size vest he wore. She fancies herself quite the knitter, and it’s said to be a cold winter in London this year. It was exactly what I would have expected.
And maybe even a little what I’ve always dreamed of.
When everyone finally clears out, I follow Santino back to his flat, and I swear the bastard is driving slower than Freya’s parents. I know we need to be careful because it’s nighttime, but we’ve been apart for over a week. I want Santino naked and in bed right bloody now.
As soon as we enter his flat, I grab him by the jacket and haul his lips to mine. This isn’t going to be the type of sweet, touchy-feely makeup sex where we whisper how sorry we are and how much we missed each other. I’m not going to shed any tears as I imagine how awful my life would have been without him. This will be a desperate, frantic fuck that I need more than I need my next breath.
We’re not even out of his entryway before I strip his jacket off him and struggle to get my heels off. I fumble with the buttons on his shirt as his large arms wrap around me to undo the zip on my back. The noise is an erotic precursor of much more to come. When the dress slips off my shoulders and pools down at my feet, he hums his approval as he takes in my black bra and knickers.
God, I’ve missed his noises.But I didn’t say it out loud, so it doesn’t count as the touchy-feely kind of shagging.
By the time we’re both naked, I’m gripping his cock while also fretting about how far away the bedroom is. He seems to be on the same page because his next move involves cupping my arse and propping me on a small entryway table by the front door. I’m panting as I reach down and position his cock at my centre. As soon as it’s where it belongs, he leans back and stares down as he grips my hips and thrusts hard into me, not even swiping my centre to see if I’m ready for him.
I’m always ready.
His eyes are rapt with fascination as he watches himself disappear inside me, his gaze shifting back and forth from my face to my breasts to where we connect. His thrusts are quick and unrelenting, his eyes roving and appreciative. I fucking love it. My cries of pleasure are loud as he pulls back over and over. I squeeze my legs around him and undulate my hips to meet his, my clitoris throbbing as he thumbs it in a small circular motion while rocking in and out of me.
When I pull him close to connect our mouths, my lips desperate to feel the chiseled scruff on his jaw, my nipples graze over his chest, and he breaks our kiss to tongue my puckered peaks. He drags his lips up my chest and along my collarbone before whispering against the hollow of my neck, “Resta con me per sempre.” He thrusts hard inside me again, his breath laboured with need.
