“Cazzo.” Junior pulls out.
“What?” I lean up on my elbows to see what he’s cursing about.
“The c****m came off. s**t, baby, I’m so sorry.”
“Jesus, what are the chances? That was the calmest s*x we’ve had.”
He screws up his face in a wry grin—it’s sweet and innocent and for a second I think I have a flash of what he must’ve looked like as a youth. “Let me fish it out. Maybe it still caught most of my c*m?”
In the least sexy moment of our relationship, Junior slides his fingers in me to locate the missing c****m.
He curses again in Italian as he pulls it out.
There’s weight on his shoulders as he walks to the trash and throws it away. When he comes back, his face is ancient again. “We’ll get you the morning-after pill. I’m sorry this happened.”
Another apology. I could get used to th
