Mob Wife

Mob Wife 37

Mob Wife 37: in a good mood

didn't throw up. it wasn't old, but it was a little stale, Gia sent. Brooklyn woke up this morning, reaching for her phone to see the time because she felt like she slept for hours. She scrunched her brows, seeing a bunch of messages from drunk Gia. It was so many to read right now, so she just put her phone back on the coffee table, deciding to text her back later. When Brooklyn first got up, it took a second for her to have the memories of last night to flood back in. 

Her cheeks grew hot since she could vividly remember the way she was screaming and pleading for him. When she was having sex with him, she was a completely new person.

She slowly leans back on Francesco's frame, trying not to wake him up from the couch. She gripped the throw blanket that was once used for decoration, to keep herself covered. 

Naturally, the thoughts of her making a mistake crept in, but at this point, she was tired of being mad at him. It was taking up her hours; energy wasted in being angry that she could've used to make herself feel better.

As she got cozy on his chest, she felt Francesco wrap one of his arms around her. She took in slow breathes' his hand now resting n her stomach. So many nights before, she's shoved him away- or ate least tried to. Fighting was becoming boring, so played out. She wanted to let the hurt go, but needed to discover how to.

A couple minutes went by and Brooklyn wasn't able to go back to sleep like she wanted to. She tried counting backwards to slip into slumber, but nothing was working. She was up for the rest of the day, so she just figured she'd just stay in his arms until he needed to get up. 

It seem as though she spoke too soon because he had slowly opened his eyes, moving his hand up to his face to rub his eyes. Yawning a little, Francesco had slowly woken up himself. 

Brooklyn questions, "you're awake?" 

"Yeah," he taps her side, "I need you to get up."

Brooklyn pouts, "why? I just got comfortable," whining. It was a great position, her body almost melting into his. 

"I need to use the bathroom," he had drank a lot last night.

"Can't you hold it?"

Francesco smiled softly, "if I could, I would," he taps her side again, "c'mon. We could say in he living room all day if you want."

Brooklyn grunted, sitting up off him, "fine," she rolled her eyes, using the blanket to cover herself, "but hurry up."

Francesco moved from behind her, standing up from the couch. She had turned her head to see all his clothes were missing beside his black boxers that hugged his thighs. Just of a glance, you could tell her worked out, the muscles effortlessly visible. She bit down on her lip when his back muscles flexed as he ran his hand through his hair, walking away to the bathroom on this floor.

Francesco entered the bathroom, lifting the toilet seat up to use it, standing up the entire time. He realized he was still using it after a few seconds, muttering a,  "damn," under his breath. He must've had beer bottles after beer bottles.

Once he was finished, flushing the the toilet and closing the lid so Brooklyn wouldn't curse him out, he moved to the sink to wash his hands. He scrunched his brows at site of love bites Brooklyn left on his skin. Some were dark while other were a lighter shade. 

Rinsing the soap off his hands, he grabbed the hand towel, drying his hands before leaving out. He made his pathway to the living room like promised, seeing Brooklyn sitting up, her hair flowing down her hack.

He rounded the couch to see she was typing on the screen really fast, her replies going out to Gia since she was woke enough. She lifted her head to see he was returning, scooting out of his spot so he could lay in it. Once back in his previous position, Brooklyn tossed her phone on the table again. She turned over to lay with her chest on his, pulling the blanket to cove them both.