Page 75 of City of Wind and Lies

I can feel the heavy weight of something lying across my hips as my eyes work their way open.

The pressure builds and my back arches off the bed as a jolt of pleasure ripples through me, eliciting a moan that awakens all my senses.

Bowie's teeth rake across my clit before releasing it and lifting his head. His chin glistens with my juices and his lips curl into a salacious smirk. "That's music to my ears, Passerotta."

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice still husky with sleep.

He licks his lips and murmurs, "Having breakfast in bed."

With a laugh, I relax into the mattress as he dips down, darting his tongue in and out of me at a pace that makes my toes curl.

God, it feels so good.

I thread my fingers into his hair, curling them around his dark locks, and pull his mouth to where I want it most.

He chuckles against my core, the vibrations only adding to the sensations as he latches on to my clit.

My breath catches in my throat as he shoves two thick digits inside my still-sensitive pussy. He curls them at their deepest point, hitting that spot that has me praising a god I don't believe in.

I might have been a little sad last night when Dallas brought me home to an empty apartment, but Bowie's bedside manner has more than made up for it. We still need to talk things out- I need to understand his position and what it means for us moving forward- but right now, actions speak far louder than words.

The coil in my belly winds tighter, my thighs clamping around his head as he adds another digit and I careen over the edge of my climax.

He doesn't stop his ministrations until my body stills, the adrenaline from the early morning orgasm giving me more energy than coffee ever has.

Sitting back on his heels, he fists his hard length as his eyes rake over my panting form with rapt desire.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous, Wren."

A blush creeps across my cheeks as I sag against the mattress in his oversized shirt, hair askew from a night of wild sex- yet I've never felt more beautiful than I do right now, pinned beneath his hungry gaze.

In one fluid motion, he hitches forward, arms bracketing my head as he rocks between my thighs, coating his cock in my juices.

Even though it feels so fucking glorious to have his piercings rolling over my swollen clit, I need him inside me again.

I lock my legs around his waist, digging my heels into his firm ass and angling my hips up to try to get what I want.

"So eager, aren't you Passerotta?" he taunts.

Biting my bottom lip, I nod up at him.

"So fucking wet," he murmurs, slipping inside in a single thrust.

I cry out at the sudden feeling of fullness, back arching and toes curling.

"So fucking mine," he growls as he starts to piston his hips, fucking me into oblivion.

As I step out of the closet, tucking my forest green blouse into the black pencil skirt, I can't help but smile at the sight of Bowie's back as he shrugs on a steel gray dress shirt. His back is marred with red marks- evidence of round two in the shower.

I could say I don't have any reservations about Bowie's lifestyle, but I'd only be lying to myself. Honestly, it's not the violence that bothers me, or even his illegal extracurriculars… well, aside from the drugs; I don't like those. But I think what really gets me is the unknown. I don’t fully understand his world, and whoever said ignorance is bliss was a goddamn liar. Ignorance is anxiety-inducing.

Taking his gun from the side table, Bowie slips it into the waistband of his slacks with the same ease I use to slip into my wedges. It's all second nature to him, so completely normal. He was raised like this, and even if I don’t fully get it, I can't fault him for his upbringing.

I close the distance between us, looping my arms around his waist and laying my cheek on his chest. It vibrates with a chuckle as he places a chaste kiss atop my head. We stay like that for a moment, one of his strong arms banding me to him, the other stroking my hair as I breathe in his intoxicating scent. Thankfully, the woodsy smell of his body wash and the spice from his cologne has yet to be a smell that is anything but calming to me.

"I'm scared," I breathe out.

His body stiffens, hands coming to rest on my shoulders as he presses me back enough that I can look up at him.

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