“Go and shower, then meet back down here so we can talk, all right?” “We can talk first,” she argues, but I run my fingers through her hair and tug her head back to stare up at me. “We can’t, because I’m going to fuck you if you don’t go and wash up and put some pants on. Take Santos, he needs a shower too,” I offer, stopping the argument easily. She grins, crooking her finger at Santos. “Come on, baby cakes. You and I are going for playtime in the shower.” I asked for that, honestly.
