Raphael turned, looking at me, and frowned. “Come on, ass off the counter. I’m about to serve breakfast.”
I scoffed. “Really? You’re bitching about me sitting on the counter—fully clothed—I might add. I nutted all over this thing last week when you fucked me in here while you were making chicken parmesan,” I pointed out.
Raphael cocked an eyebrow at me. “Is my dick in your ass now?'
Yes. I'm giddy over these two.