"Tell me more."
Lucrezia breathily laughed, burying her hands into the other's hair as he rolled them over in languid deviance. "More of what? About how much you hog the blankets?"
A mock frown. "No, not of such trivialities: What you have said before—concerning how amazing I am: in and out of bed."
'Well," the younger sibling began, her tone sarcastically thoughtful, "I think I did omit the fact that three-fourths of the mattress is occupied by your fat buttocks. Oh, and that you sleep like the dead, even if one reached for your pene."
Lazily, Cesare supported himself on his elbows and leaned forward, ghosting his mouth along the curve of the impish woman's nape in halfhearted reverence, his eyes hooded in contentment—he trailed his hands downwards, past smooth shoulders, the ribs, her belly, finally settling them onto her sides and giving a good squeeze as a caveat for her defiance. Perhaps, he should have expected the light nip to his chin in retaliation, as much as the amused curve of the woman's lips that voiced a laugh louder than his own.
"You lie: I would know if you took hold of my cock." Smirks all around. "I would have felt the slightest touch, you see."
"Basta, basta—I realize you kid me not." Lucrezia shied her body away from the growing arousal that pressed against her thigh. "You are an insufferable dog, Duca Valentino."
"And I am honored that you embrace my notoriety, milady."
The rest of the night was put to good use.
Cesare made sure of that.