Page 45 of City of Wind and Lies

I lock my ankles behind his back, bracing my hands on his shoulders as he lines his hard cock up to my throbbing pussy and thrusts inside. His elbows bracket my head, hands resting on top to hold me in place as he hammers into me at a frenetic pace.

I've come to recognize the different ways Bowie fucks, and when his emotions become too much, he replaces his words with brutal thrusts. His body's so overwhelmed with feelings he doesn't know how to articulate that he tries to fuck it away. His body begs mine to understand, the shadows in his soul circling my own with silent screams.

Like a rollercoaster car that's gone off the rails, my stomach swoops, body spasming in his hold as I'm galvanized with toe-curling rapture. I go slack, melting in his hold as he finds his own release. His chest rises and falls rapidly, ragged breaths skating across my skin and licking chills down my spine.

"Cazzo, Bella," he whispers.

"Hmm", I hum, my body tingling with adrenaline as I slowly lift my head to meet his heated gaze.

He eases out of me, each barbell tugging against my sensitive center and sending aftershocks of pleasure through me. Twisting around, he sets me on the cool surface of the vanity and I try to hide the wince as he cups my still swollen face.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, thumbs stroking lightly across my bruised cheeks.

My throat vibrates with a small laugh. "Yes, but I liked it."

His hands splay against the counter, shoulders sagging, forehead resting against mine. "This is what I mean. I'm complicated. Dangerous. I can't promise you won't get hurt."

"I never asked you to, Bowie," I reassure him, threading my fingers into his damp locks. "Call me a masochist because I want this. Something with you just feels right."

Rocking back, his brows furrow together as he studies my face. "I want to tell you more, but… I'm not a good man, Wren. You should be scared of me."

"But I'm not. Connection isn’t about finding someone to try and fix you, but finding someone who's not afraid of the pain that comes with picking up the pieces."

He heaves a sigh and presses his lips to mine. I deepen the kiss, our mouths sliding together in a tender temperament before he pulls back and starts to clean between my thighs.

Helping me down, I follow him into the bedroom and he pulls open a drawer of the dark walnut dresser, handing me a white t-shirt from a designer I’ve never heard of and a pair of black Calvin Klein silk boxers. I slip into the borrowed clothes as he disappears into the closet. Once I'm dressed, I sit on the edge of the bed, finger combing my hair as my eyes tour the room. It's sleek and modern with minimal decor- nothing jumps out to reveal any secrets about this man.

"I have to go to work," Bowie says, stepping into the room as he buttons his navy collared shirt.

I take a moment to admire his sharp features, swallowing back the disappointment of not getting to spend the day lazily with him. "But it's Sunday?" I scrunch my nose up, leaning back on my hands.

"It is," he affirms, fastening his gray slacks and weaving a brown leather belt through the loops. "But I have the club and family business to attend to."

"Wait, full stop," I say as little pieces of information start to slide together. It's almost so obvious that I feel like an idiot for not putting it together sooner. "You own the Monarch Club, don't you?"

"I do. The whole building, actually," he answers, buckling the Rolex around his wrist.

"What's the family business then?"

He sighs. "There's investments, real estate, entertainment, and private security, to name a few."

There’s a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that says those answers aren't as simple as he makes them sound. I hum in response, watching as he sits on the tufted leather ottoman and pulls on his socks and shoes.

Standing to his full height, he walks toward the dresser, picking up his phone and studying it for a moment before his fingers tap on the screen.

"Come," he instructs in that gravelly tone that makes my pussy clench. "I have a surprise for you."

I push off the bed and pad towards him, his hand sliding to the small of my back as he ushers me down the hall to the open-concept living room.

"The doctor said you should take it easy today and rest." He leads me over to sit on a plush suede sofa, sitting opposite me on the glass coffee table. "But I didn't want you to be alone."

The front door pushes open and Dallas steps in, rolling what looks to be my suitcase behind him and carrying a black takeout bag like Bowie had last night in the other hand. I feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of being babysat all day when Drea steps in with Sonic cups in her hands. "Hey babe!" she greets cheerfully, strutting towards the sofa.

A smile splits across my face as I dart my eyes to Bowie and he smirks, pushing to his feet. "I had Drea bring you some essentials, and pick up some food and drinks she knew you'd enjoy." He motions to the giant screen behind him. "Watch some TV, order a movie, whatever it is you girls would do on a normal Sunday."

"Thank you." I barely get the words out before my lip starts to quiver and I try to blink away the tears I feel welling in my eyes. Damnit, it has to be the hormones fucking with me, right?

Bending at the waist, he curls his fingers beneath my chin, capturing my lips in a chaste kiss before murmuring, "Be a good girl while I'm out." He winks as he straightens and paces towards the door. "Call me if you need something, Passerotta."

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