Celia

46 Antisocial, Needy Cat

Celia

Those potheads you see in movies with lazy smiles and hooded eyes? That's us after sex.

Except, we're high off of each other. In our undies, munching on the dining table. I'm perched on a chair, trying not to grin. He's laid back with a dimpled smirk, arm draped over the headrest next to him.

I tease that he could've kept going and his reaction stuns me. His smile stays, but he goes 'uh-huh' and taps the headrest with his palm.

I don't know how I end up in bed, when I start moaning. He throws me down, twist me, flips me, yanks me. With... entitlement and such calm, I find myself dominated physically and mentally, and I fucking love it. I love that he doesn't stop when I fight it, hurt from it, cry for it. I complain why he's not coming, he smirks and says he wants every last orgasm out of me.

By the end, I curl into a fetal position, holding onto my stomach. He jerks off on my hip, breaths rapid and heavy. Then he wipes me off with a warm washcloth and spoons me, soothing my shivers with his palm and lips.

He pulls me on his lap and I can't object. I try to sit up, lids droopy, mumbling. But when he tugs me back down, I flop into the crook of his neck and take the best nap of my life.

"You're going to the bathroom, baby." Gio smiles, propped on his elbows. I've been standing in the middle of the room, butt-naked, staring at the ground. "And your clothes aren't here."

The next morning, I wake up to find my boob in his hand and a dangerous bulge against my butt. I twist to cuddle, rubbing my cheek against the short hairs on his warm chest and he squeezes me, smacking his lips in his sleep.

That's cute. I guess I'll let him sleep a little more.

Okay, that's enough.

I graze his chest hair with my teeth, kind of like a goat trying to eat grass, but he doesn't budge. I flick his nipple, that does it. He flips on top of me, making me choke out a grunt.

"I'm hungry..." I tap his sides, my ribs crushing.

"Shh." He lowers his face down. I suck in a nervous breath, not ready to go again. But he... cuddles my chest and falls back to sleep.

I blink at the messy brown hair on top of his head, his black long eyelashes, and the peaceful look on his face. His muscular shoulders golden from the streaming sunlight, his lower half draped under the blue sheets. He barely fits in bed, but holds me like a baby.

My stomach growls after thirty minutes and Gio chuckles, kissing my belly. He makes me chocolate chip pancakes, and we eat outside. Shortly after, we find out that Oscar's wife, Lucy, wants to rent a cabin for the Holidays.

I almost scream yes, then Gio starts to complain about how it's not safe and how someone needs to take care of the plants. Thankfully at the end though, he changes his mind.

Two weeks later, Ari and I step outside in our matching 'gangsta winter vacation' outfits. Black sunglasses and baker boy hats, with leather jackets and combat boots.

"Oohlala, who are these beauty queens?" Chase opens his black BMW's door and snaps a picture of us. Gio behind me groans, I turn around and hug his waist, telling him he'll be okay.

"Text me when you get there." He murmurs, then points a warning look at Chase. "And you better not act stupid!"

"Me?" Chase holds his chest, then proceeds to race up the curvy mountains, blasting Harry Styles for Ari and me to scream 'Watermelon Sugar' off the top of our lungs.