Page 21 of City of Wind and Lies

Her soft palm cups my balls and my head lolls back in response to the sensation. I haven't had enough time to recover yet, and not wanting her to think her efforts aren't appreciated, I fist her hair, tugging her back.

Spit dribbles down her chin as she stares up at me apprehensively. "Good girl Passerotta," I praise, and her face lights up. "You like pleasing me?" I ask, releasing her hair.

She nods, licking her lips and sitting back on her heels.

"Come here." I pat my thigh and hold open my arms.

Her small frame curls in my lap, head resting on my chest as I push the damp tendrils of hair away from her face.

Mindlessly, I caress the slope of her spine. The act of cuddling after sex is foreign to me, but I won't deny how right this feels.

"Isabella wants you to come for dinner," Rocco states, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass.

I swallow the rest of my bourbon, placing my lowball glass on the table and leaning back against the tufted black leather of the booth in the upstairs VIP section of Monarch Club.

"When?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow in his direction.

"Tonight," he replies, fingers fishing his gold chain from beneath his shirt collar; his tell giving away that this is more than just a regular dinner.

"What's the occasion?"

"Merda, Bowie. Can't you just accept the invitation and make my wife happy?"

"That's not my job, cousin." I lift my empty glass at the waitress, tipping my chin to signal for a refill. "If it was, she wouldn't be inviting another man into her home."

"Stronzo," Rocco huffs, punching my bicep.

"I'll be there," I chuckle as Crystal approaches our table. She smiles brightly, pouring me another two fingers of whiskey before heading back to the bar where Rhodes is posted up at the end, keeping a watchful eye.

"So," Rocco starts, swiveling his head to follow my gaze and tipping his head toward Rhodes, "How'd the kid do for you?"

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. "You're telling me you haven't debriefed in the time you've been back?"

Rocco's been back just shy of two weeks, and this is the first time we've had a chance to really catch up. His Ma took a fall in her garden a few days after he got back, so aside from getting back in the swing of things, he's been spending more time over there helping her.

He bristles, waving a hand. "No, no, I've done my job," he assures me. "I heard his side, but I want yours."

I relax and begin relaying all my thoughts on Rhodes. I want to start giving the kid more responsibility- like Dallas, he's got a lot of gusto, and while he stumbled a few times, he definitely proved himself capable in Rocco's place.

We bullshit for another hour, and just as the Saturday night crowd starts to get lively on the main floor, we head upstairs to the penthouse level. I follow Rocco to his door, down the hall from mine. The smell of fresh garlic and melted cheese floods my senses as we step into the living room. Just as the door clicks shut behind us, Isabella comes bounding across the living room with bright, wide eyes.

"You got him to come!" she exclaims, and Rocco hums in response, sliding an arm around his new bride’s waist and pressing a kiss to her temple.

Usually, seeing this type of affection wouldn't phase me- but I'm suddenly hit with a frisson of jealousy, and for a sliver of a second the thought of coming home to Wren crosses my mind.

It probably doesn't help that I found myself buried in her pussy again this week. I'd originally chalked the day I bent her over my desk up to a one-off, but then she was working late last night, and well… her desk has been christened now, too.

"Please, come sit," Isabella says, motioning to the already set table as she heads toward the kitchen. "I just took the lasagna from the oven, I'll be right back."

I take a seat as Rocco pours us each a glass of red and Isabella carries out a steaming ceramic baking dish, placing it in the middle of the small round dining table.

"It smells delicious, Isabella." I smile, spreading my napkin across my lap.

She fills our plates before settling into her seat and taking Rocco's hand. "Bowie, I respect your position and know what it means for your right-hand man to be away.” Her mouth spreads in a smile and her brown eyes go glossy. "And, I just wanted to say thank you for letting Rocco have the time off."

I nod, raising my glass. "Sempre per la famiglia. And you're family now."

They raise and clink their glasses with mine before we dig into the lasagna. The evening passes quickly with Isabella animatedly telling stories of their time in France, and I can't help but start to feel that pang of jealousy echo again in my chest.

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