He looks confused. His eyes move between us, lingering on the place he just was and licking his lips. I shake my head and move to the shower to turn it on. The sooner I get cleaned up, the faster I can figure out how to get out of here. How to go back to my life where men aren’t so imposing. Trying to control my life or trying to pulverize my ex. The last thing I need is the police involved in anything related to me. I could lose my job if that happened. And I couldn’t support my family back home. Everything about this is sudden, very wrong, and very over.
“Please go.”
They argue back and forth a bit more, but eventually leave me alone with the hot water and hotter thoughts. One feels amazing. The other doesn’t.
“What am I doing?”
CHAPTER 16
EMILIO
My dick is still wet when the bathroom door slams behind us. Not in a sexy way. I barely got a crutch out before Mas is shoving my ass out. As if I’m not clunking behind him, slipping a little on the tile because gravity hates me and because my cast is stupid and because the universe is cruel and unfair and also possibly jealous of my dick.
Massimo storms into the bedroom. Shoulders roll up to his ears like he’s doing shoulder shrugs, but without the weight.
“Bro.” I’m huffing and puffing, breathing hard because that bathroom sex should honestly count as cardio. “Hey. Slow down. Damn.”
No answer. He yanks a towel off the bed like he wants to strangle me with it. I scratch my chest. My heart’s beating all weird. Not from the fucking. Okay, partly from the fucking. Mostly because Massimo’s acting like someone hogging the squat rack for too long.
“What’s your problem?” I ask, hopping over to him. “Why’re you acting like a little bitch?”
Mas whips around so fast I literally flinch. His jaw clenches hard like his teeth will break and fall out of his head. Like a Greek statue, but a very pissed-off edition.
“You ruined everything,” he grits out.
I blink. Then look around the room. Look at the bathroom door where the shower still runs. Everything looks fine to me.
“How?” I lift my arms like Jesus, asking God why he gets the shitty assignments. “How did I ruin anything? She literally said, “Your turn, Nene.” I didn’t force her. She wanted the Dimas double feature. Director’s cut. IMAX experience. Why are you mad at me?!”
Massimo laughs, but it’s not a good one. It’s hollow and icky. His face turns into that of an evil villain, the Joker, and not the cool one like in The Dark Knight, but the super old, bad one with some dude named Jack in it.
“You told her to move in.”
Ah. That. Okay, yes, I said that. In the heat of the moment. While coming hard enough to see my future in her body. In her pussy that was gaping wide fucking open as I pummeled her.
“But bro,” I argue, hobbling toward him, dick still half when thinking about her creamy donut hole. If only she’d let me stuff my cream in there. “You were thinking it. I see the way you look at her. Googly eye and shit. I was just being emotionally honest! Everyone says women want honesty!”
Massimo drags both hands down his face like he wants to peel it off.
“Emilio. She panicked. Did you not see that? She wasn’t blushing. She wasn’t turned on anymore. She was scared. She shut down. You pushed too far.”
My chest twists. I don’t like it.
“Bro . . .” I scratch my head, confused how this is my fault. All I did was say what he didn’t. “I didn’t mean it weird. I just meant it like we like having her here. And she looks hot in our house. And she’s soft and smells like papaya or some shit. And I want to wake up to her every day. That’s not crazy. Fuck, you’re the one who loves her. Hell, maybe I could love her too. I already love her fast ass and DSLs. Did I tell you how hot they looked wrapped around my . . . no, not the time?”
Massimo’s head snaps up, murdering me with his look seven ways to Sunday.
“Not crazy?” he repeats quietly, almost dangerously like that damn Joker again. “Not crazy to try to tie her down when she’s barely letting herself stay for lunch?”
My stomach drops. Oh fuck. He’s scared, like really fucking scared. And now I’m scared, because if Massimo, the stable one that has shit all figured out, is scared, then maybe this is worse than I thought. But instead of saying something helpful, I choose humor. My go-to when shit gets real, and I don’t want to deal.
“Bro, you’re just mad because she orgasmed harder with me.”
He lunges, ready to pulverize me and not her ex. I try to move back, but my shit slips on the floor because the universe hates me and wants me dead. His fist misses my face by millimeters. The wind from his punch caresses my face. That would have hurt badly if he connected.
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” he roars, winding it back again for a second attempt. “AHH WAIT, BRO. CALM DOWN. MY RIBS. MY LEG!”
He stops with his fist ready at my face. Breathing hard. Eyes wild. Chest heaving. Like an angry, horny bull.
