She’s in her same clothes as yesterday, her dark hair spilled around her, the blanket hanging off of her. She seems at peace, which means I should probably get coffee from the café down the street instead of risk waking her up here with the noise of the espresso machine.
I grab my wallet and my phone and head out of the apartment. I’m in the café, deciding to get a coffee for her as well, just in case, when my phone rings.
Marco.
I stare at it for a moment before I answer, my nerves prickling.
“Hello.”
“Hey Luciano,” he says. “Guess what? I’m coming home today.”
Well, fuck. It’s about time.
Nevermind the fact that his girlfriend is asleep in my apartment.
“When?”
“My flight lands at three. I thought you’d sound happy. Now you have someone to keep you in line.”
“Ruby’s been doing a fine job,” I tell him.
“I’m sure she has,” he says slowly. “Look, we have lots to talk about, so I’ll go home and get the smell of the plane off me, then head off to your place. Say around five?”
“Five is fine.”
“Great. See you then.”
He hangs up and I let out a deep breath as I slip my phone in my pocket.
I’m glad Marco’s back. It was getting pretty ridiculous with how long he’d been gone. A one-week trip turned into two weeks, and he left his girlfriend in charge of my affairs.
But more than that, I need him to be back for Ruby’s sake. As much as she tries to hide it, I know it’s been hard on her with him gone, only having me to hang around with.
I head back into the apartment, surprised to see Ruby standing in the kitchen holding a carton of eggs in front of the stove. Her hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun, and she’s surprisingly fresh-faced, considering she was snoring before I left.
“Hey,” I say, placing keys on the hook by the door. I walk over to her, holding out the coffee. “I got you a coffee.”
“Thank you,” she says, taking it with a big grin. “You didn’t have to do that.” She sticks her hip out toward the stove. “I was about to make you breakfast.”
“Were you?” I ask, taking a seat at the island. “Don’t let me stop you then.”
She bites on her lip for a moment, as if I just called her bluff. “Fine. I hope you like eggs because that’s all you have in this damn place. It was literally the least boring breakfast food I could find.”
“You weren’t looking for pastries were you?”
“I thought maybe you had a secret stash.”
She turns her back to me and starts fiddling with the knobs on the stove, having a tough time figuring it out.
“It’s gas,” I tell her.
“Right,” she says, then she thickens her Texan drawl. “Propane and propane accessories.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter.
“Hey, you know when you said we should do something bad?”
She pauses and slowly looks at me over her shoulder, brows raised. I can’t tell if that’s trepidation or excitement on her forehead.
I go on. “Why don’t we put your cooking skills on hold and go and get some McDonald’s. There’s one just down the street.”
She turns around, shaking her head in awe. “I don’t think I’m hearing this right. Luciano Ribeiro, the famed centre-back for Sporting Lisbon, would rather go to McDonald’s, than have Ruby Turner cook him some eggs?”
I nod. “Sounds about right, yes.”
She grins at me. “Okay then.” She claps her hands together briefly. “This will cure my hangover like nothing else.”
“Feeling rough?” I grab my keys again and head to the door.
She’s not moving. “You’re going out in that?” she asks.
I look down at my white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.
“What about it?”
“People will see you.”
I frown at her, confused. “I was just outside in this.”
“Yeah. With your dick print all over the place.”
I glance down. I don’t see the problem. “Dick print?”
“Yes,” she says emphatically, and motions her hands at my crotch. “Very impressive too. Don’t you know the tabloids are dying to print pictures of you like this? Plus, I’ll be with you in the photos. That won’t look good.”
Impressive? My dick print is impressive?
Fucking hell, this better not turn me on, not when she’s staring right at my crotch. “I don’t think you realize that no one is going to care.”
“Oh really?” she says. “They’ll care. If anything, the British and American gossip sites will post flattering commentary about your dick, then they’ll post pictures of me, your brother’s girlfriend, and all hell will break loose. What I’m saying is, if we’re going out there, you’ve got to change.”
After she mentioned my dick, I stopped paying attention.
“Sorry, what? Sometimes my English escapes me.”
She walks right up to me and snatches the keys from my hand, the contact of her skin against mine sending a thrill down my spine. “I’ll be right back,” she says huskily, and then goes out the door.
It takes me a moment to even realize that she’s off to McDonalds without knowing where it is, or what I want.
Then I head over to the full-length mirror to figure what the hell she’s talking about with a dick print. Okay, perhaps now isn’t the best example, not when I’m thinking about the many times she was just talking about my cock.
I slide my hand down the waistband, wrapping it around my length, hissing slightly at the touch. I hadn’t realized how fucking turned I’ve been around her. Fuck, I hope she hasn’t noticed the million erections I’ve had.
With her gone, there’s barely enough time for me to jack off, but I make it work. I’m hair trigger sensitive and I’m thinking and fantasizing about all the things I shouldn’t.
I’m thinking about her lying beneath me on my bed, her tits bare, her body milky white, biting those cherry red lips, staring up at me with those wide eyes. I’m thinking about her crawling forward toward me on
