But Too Well

Bonus Chapter #1 : Nutella

A/N:

Some Rosalyn/Nero fluff just to celebrate this story reaching 200,000 reads. Love you guys. Please let me know how you liked it!

Oh, by the way, it's in Nero's POV... Just a warning that he is decidedly less tame and definitely more graphic than our dear Rosalyn. 😉 Smut alert.

Nutella is an Italian cliché so you guys know I couldn't help myself...

***

"Nutella"

Merda. When I walk into the kitchen, tossing my keys onto the counter, the first thing I see is the bottom of Rosalyn's round ass peaking out from the edge of a short dress as she bends over the oven.

I've been home for all of three seconds and my cazzo already wants to be inside her. Cristo.

"Dolcezza," I grumble, watching the way she jumps a little, surprised, spinning around and dropping a tray of cupcakes onto the island with a clatter.

A sweet pink blush travels up her neck and paints her soft cheeks, and she gives me one of her small, shy smiles that makes my heart beat a little faster. "Hey, you," she breathes. I love the way her gaze travels over me like I'm the best thing she's seen all day.

Her hazel eyes widen as I make my way over to her, grabbing her waist and pushing her back against the fridge. She looks up at me, her breaths becoming shallow and her small hands pressing lightly into my chest. "Tell me," I mumble into her ear, "that you did not wear this dress in public."

She giggles, biting her lip and leaning forward into me so her tits strain against my chest. I press my hips into hers, nailing her against the cold stainless steel behind her, and she stifles a moan when she feels how I'm already getting hard for her. "I was wearing leggings earlier," she promises, and I know that bright look in her eyes means she wants me to do things to her. Minchia, the things I could do to her.

I bend down to capture her full lips and she threads her fingers into my hair, tugging herself closer to me. I fucking love the way she grips tightly at my hair as I devour her mouth, sliding my tongue against hers and drawing soft whimpers from her.

We've been together almost a year now and every time I kiss her it's as exhilarating as the first. I could never, ever grow tired of this woman, of the way she tastes, the sounds she makes, of the way she relaxes into my arms or fits so perfectly against me.

It's like she's made for me, and she's all mine. Sometimes I still have a hard time believing it.

When I pull away so we can catch our breath, she tucks her head into the crook of my shoulder, inhaling a little. I chuckle. She once told me, embarrassed, that she loves the way I smell. Every now and then I notice her taking a whiff of me and it's fucking adorable.

"I got off work a little early today," she says against my neck. "I made your favourite chicken. Everything's on the stove."

What did you ever do to deserve her?

I hold her face in my hands, give her a crooked grin that earns me a breathtaking smile. "I can think of a few ways to thank you after dinner."

She shivers against me from the dark promise in my low voice before a familiar, mischievous look slides across her face. She slips out of my grasp and says, "If you mean you're gonna do the dishes then I graciously accept."

She likes teasing me and it's frustrating but hot as fuck. God knows I would do a house-full of dishes if it made her happy.

I help her spoon out a couple plates and she tells me about her day as we eat, and I tell her about mine. Nothing exciting, nothing really interesting. I could talk to Rosalyn about paint drying on a wall and I know we'd still enjoy ourselves.