Her hair hangs loose, gently tousled and styled, her eyes shining bright, as if lit by magic, her lips full and pink. My dick gets hard just staring at her.
Me: Sorry you forgot. Looks like you’re ready for bed. I’ll put my yoga pants on, too.
As if I own yoga pants.
Elise: hahaha. Sorry but they don’t make men’s yoga pants in jumbo size.
I send her a text with the waving hand three times in a row, and hope she gets the right message of that palm across her ass while she flails over my knee. It’s been a couple of days since she’s been taken in hand, and goddamn the girl needs a tight leash.
I adjust myself. Doesn’t take much to make me hard when it comes to her.
Not that I’m complaining.
Doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked her, though. I’m determined to put my baby in her and coming home to her at night’s the highlight of my goddamn day.
Elise: Does that mean you plan on punishing me, sir?
Another picture, this time with her covering her mouth with her hand in wide-eyed shock, and the next, with her bent over a chair in our room with her dress-covered ass fully ready for me.
Jesus.
“Go,” Santo says, a note of bitterness in his tone I didn’t expect. “Go take your pretty wife out to eat and wine and dine her or whatever the fuck you do to someone you’re already married to. You hear from Rosa lately?”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. You?”
“Yeah. She wants to come home and see you but still has some work to do. Might surprise you, though. Wait and see.”
“Would be nice to see her. Elise would like it, too, I’d think. They know each other.”
The sound of heated voices outside my door catches me by surprise. Is that Mario? I look to Santo expectantly. He stands and silently goes to the door, then puts his ear up against it.
“Mario,” he breathes, then shrugs. He doesn’t know who the woman is.
I stand and stretch, then walk to the door and yank it open. Mario stands in the hallway and to my shock, Natalia’s nanny stands in the doorway of Mario’s office, her face beet red.
“Everything alright here?” I ask, shoving my hands in my pockets to make it seem less like an interrogation and more like a friendly question. I can tell by the way the nanny—whose name I don’t even know—responds, it’s not exactly friendly. She flinches and looks away.
“Oh, it’s fine,” Mario says with uncharacteristic anger in his voice. “We were just having a little chat. Weren’t we?”
She nods, flushing a pretty shade of pink, before she scurries off.
“Jesus, brother, she’s a decade younger than you,” Santo mutters with a grimace. “She ain’t even legal. What is she, a fucking high school freshman? I knew you liked to rob the cradle, but…”
Mario shoves his hands in his pockets and leans up against the wall. “I like to rob the cradle, shake the cradle, and flip that cradle upside fucking down,” he says with a shrug. “But I’m not after her. She’s way too young. She only pissed me off because she let Natalia go through my things.”
Santo scowls. “Let her go through your things? Like what?” I have an immediate visual of his weapons and porno mags.
Mario curses under his breath. “She was in my office, coloring on my calendar with sharpies.”
“Oh,” Santo says, unable to stifle his smirk, or maybe he didn’t even try. “Sounds like we should let her go.”
“And the wall. And the desk.”
I wince. That desk is a hand-me-down from Nonna, and worth more money than the rest of us make in a week.
“Natalia’s old enough to know better,” Santo says, shaking his head. “I’ll talk with her.” Of all the uncles, he’s the one she’s closest to. “Probably misses her mama. Good thing she’s coming home soon.”
“Yeah,” Mario says. “I don’t give a fuck if she wants to use permanent markers in my office because she misses her mama or she wanted attention or her fucking fish died, I don’t want that to happen again.”
“Got it,” Santo says. “I’ll make that clear. Now calm yourself the fuck down.”
Mario grumbles and grunts but finally leaves, but not before he kicks his office door shut behind him. It’s unlike him to be so damn grumpy.
“What’s his problem?” I ask.
“You ate the last damn scone,” Romeo says as he walks down the hall. “Tell Tavi to bring more from town.”
I roll my eyes.
“Also, his flavor of the week broke up with him.”
“Since when is he even in a position where anyone will ‘break up’ with him?” I ask, shaking my head. “Thought he only did hookups and one-night stands?”
Tavi joins us, a cup of steaming hot cappuccino in hand. “Yeah, until you two have to go show off and get married.”