Page 142 of Pietro
On screen, a woman runs through rain-soaked streets, looking over her shoulder.
"You're crying over Netflix again."
Her chin lifts, defiant even with tears on her cheeks. "It's a good show."
"Uh-huh." I can't stop the smile pulling at my mouth. "This feels familiar."
"Don't start."
"That Sunday." I sit on the arm of the couch, looking down at her. "I thought someone had hurt you. Nearly tore your apartment apart looking for threats."
"You were ridiculous." But her lips twitch, fighting a smile. "Barging in like some avenging angel because I was emotional over a TV show."
She takes another bite of ice cream, and I watch the spoon disappear between her lips. The simple act shouldn't affect me, but everything about her does.
"You know what else I remember about that day?" I slide off the couch arm, kneeling beside her.
"Pietro—"
"You told me I didn't have the right to invade your privacy." My hand finds her ankle, thumb stroking the delicate bone. "That working for me didn't give me ownership."
"I was right."
"You were." My hand slides higher, over her calf. "But things have changed since then, haven't they?"
"My ribs are still healing."
"I'll be very careful." My fingers hook into the waistband of her shorts. "But you're going to regret teasing me about that day."
"I wasn't teasing."
"No?" I pull the shorts down slowly, watching her face. "Sounded like teasing to me."
She lifts her hips, letting me slide the fabric over her thighs, past her knees, off completely. My t-shirt falls to mid-thigh, covering her.
For now.
"You're impossible," she breathes.
I push her shirt up, revealing bare skin inch by inch. "Were you hoping I'd come home early?"
"Maybe."
I spread her thighs, settling between them on my knees. Her bruised ribs make me gentle, careful not to press against the healing bones. But her pussy is perfect, already glistening in the low light.
"Tell me if anything hurts." I kiss the inside of her thigh, feeling her muscles tremble.
"Pietro—"
"Tell me." I look up, meeting her eyes. "Promise me."
"I promise." Her good hand tangles in my hair. "Please."
I lower my mouth to her, tasting her on my tongue.
Her fingers tighten in my hair as my tongue finds her clit. I steady her hip with my hand, careful not to press on her still-healing ribs.
A low moan spills from her lips, and her thighs tremble around my head. She arches up, trying to get more of my mouth. I pull back slightly, making her whimper.
