Page 66 of Cocky Jerk

I just need to figure out how the hell I’m going to convince her I fit into hers.

Chapter Twenty

Marco

The sound of the smokealarm wakes me, and I spring out of bed. I drag my naked ass into the kitchen where I find Antonia. My t-shirt barely covers her ass as she stands on her tiptoes, waving a dishtowel at the smoke alarm. Coming up behind her, I grab the towel with one hand and unscrew the alarm from the ceiling. The annoying beeping sound stops instantly.

“Thank God,” she exclaims, pushing her hair out of her face. “That thing was driving me insane.”

“What happened?” I ask, looking toward the stove and the charred frying pan. “Are those black things pancakes?”

“They’re a little well done.”

“I’ll say,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from her attempt at breakfast.

She frowns.

“I can’t cook.”

“Noted,” I reply, trying not to laugh because she looks like she might burst into tears. Tossing the dishtowel on the counter, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close. I bend my head and press my lips to hers. “Good morning.”

“It was until I ruined breakfast.”

“I’m naked in case you haven’t noticed, it’s still a great morning,” I tease, dipping my head to kiss her neck. You would think after the last few sleepovers she’d realize I’m content with having her for breakfast. I could probably sustain with having her for lunch and dinner too.

Lifting her in my arms, she winds her legs around my hips, and I carry her to the couch. I gently deposit her against the cool leather and drop to my knees. Spreading her legs, my hands travel up the inside of her thighs as I eye her sleek pussy.

She is always shamelessly wet and waiting for me.

“What about breakfast?”

“I’m about to have mine. We’ll get you something to nosh on later.”

A giggle spills from the back of her throat as I lift her legs onto my shoulders. I settle between her thighs and press my mouth to her sweet center. My tongue takes one languid stroke and flicks her clit.

“You spoil me,” she moans, threading her fingers through my hair.

After last night, I’m going to have to disagree. I’m the spoiled one, I was the envy of every man at the party. On top of winning over Tig and Delia and scoring us an invitation for dinner at their house next weekend, she rocked my world when we got home. If fucking was a sport, we were Olympians.

“Marco…” she cries, clawing my back.

I’m just getting started, and she’s already about to come. Like I said, gold medal champ over here.

“Marco the door!”

My mouth pauses and I lift my eyes to hers.

“What?”

“Someone’s at your door,” she pants.

Another knock sounds, but I don’t move from my position between her legs. In fact, I’m about to go down on her again and ignore whoever it is intruding at this ungodly hour when I hear my mother’s shrill voice.

“Marco Vincenzo Pirelli I know you’re in there!”

Kicking me away, Antonia sits up.

“Who is that?”

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