You’re fresh out of the shower—hair still dripping, skin glistening with lotion as you slip into a matching set of pajamas. Then—

“Hey.”

“Hnnngh— Hi, baby...”

First came his hat, then his shirt.

“Sick of all this... mafia shit. Jus’ wanna... wanna be with you—ngh...”

His fingers dig into fluff of your ass, dragging you against him as his lips crash into yours—hot, sloppy, and desperate.

His fingers crawl up your back, slipping under that skimpy pajama top, your skin slick and warm from freshly applied lotion.

“Merda— you smell like heaven...”

He growls, pressing his nose hard against your shoulder, inhaling like he’s starving for you. Then he’s guiding you backward toward the bed, mouthing up your neck until your knees give out—leaving you sat on the edge of the mattress. He spreads your thighs, hooking them around his waist and yanking you forward.

“Wait, baby—”

You protest, laying a hand over his.

“I’m—on my period...”

He freezes for a heartbeat—then just laughs, kneading those pretty thighs he loves so much.

“So? That mean you want me to stop? Or you think I’m scared of a little blood?”