Page 37 of Petrichor

“Pedantic…and ruthless.” Carlo clears his throat and looks down. If he hadn’t, I’d have felt too tempted to impale his forearm with the kitchen knife.

“Shut the fuck up!” I clip at them.

Instead of acting insulted by the fact that I put a guy on him, Fly snorts and shrugs. “Your guy must be bored to death following me around the supermarket and the post office before I go straight home.”

His reaction is odd. What’s his story? Getting info from Boston is harder than it should be since Domenico, our contact in the Vinci family is having trouble with the Irish mob there.

I still could get it all out of him. I have my ways. An image of him tied to the bed while I force my cock down his throat once again and ride his face pops into my head, making my dick twitch with eagerness.Cazzowas that? That’s certainly not the method of torture I use to extort information.

“Fly, did someone give you this nickname?” Carlo suddenly asks him. He looks tense. I hope is because I’ve let him inside my penthouse a handful of times and only for a few minutes.

Fly nods. “In a way.”

“Who?” It’s Luca’s turn to question him.

Fly glances at me before turning to them again. “My father was a real piece of shit. He liked to denigrate me on top of other things. He used to call me different kinds of horrible names, butinsectseemed to be his favorite. Years later, I was doing research for a school projectand I found a website about insects. I discovered that they are pretty cool in their own ways. Especially flies, although annoying and ordinary-looking, they are also amazing scavengers and great pollinators, resilient and fast. I was very passionate about it and told my teacher at the time and some guys in school, and the nickname stuck.”

“It suits you,” Luca states.

I understand now. “It’s like saying fuck off to your past,” I say, earning a long, deep look from him.

His father was abusive. That’s why, after he showed up all beaten up that night, he didn’t tremble in a corner. He was used to it—just like the rest of us mistreated kids. How many times was he hit, belittled, felt inept, powerless, demoralized?

I feel a stinging sensation, and as I look down, I see blood spilling on the wooden board.Merda!

Before I can grab a kitchen towel, Fly is next to me. He takes a hold of my hand and closes his mouth around the bleeding cut. I freeze for a moment, eyes hypnotized by the sight of his soft, wet lips around my finger. My dick lurches at the feel of his warm tongue caressing my skin, and when he sucks, hollowing his cheeks, I get so fucking hard, my cock leaks at the memory of that same eager mouth taking it all in.

His icy gray eyes lift to mine, pupils almost blown. A hint of worry, and want. A deep, animalistic want he isn’t trying to hide. He finds me attractive, that’s for sure, but is he as sincere as he looks?

No one is.

Luca’s loud cough makes me turn his way. His eyebrows have reached his hairline as he stares at me with a surprised but still smug look.

I feel Fly’s mouth slowly sliding off my finger, that hot tongue lingers for a heartbeat, then the coolness of the air hits the damp skin. A pink hue has covered his cheeks, and his lips are slick and shiny.

He examines the cut. “It’s not bleeding anymore.” He licks his mouth, turning it even shinier. “I’ll get some disinfectant. Wash it under the water,” he instructs breathily, before disappearing through the corridor.

“Fuck!” Carlo mutters, gulping down his beer.

“Fuck indeed,” Luca chuckles.

I hiss, sending a murderous glare at them. I so want to button up this annoyingly unexpected situation and return to drinking myself to death. Now that I think about it, how long has it been since I did that? I’ve been so busy with Fly and the rest, I…forgot about it.

I grab the tray off the counter, and I’m putting it inside the heated oven when Fly comes back, holding a tube of ointment for my cut.

“Don’t fucking need it,” I dismiss him, grabbing a beer from the fridge. I toss the apron on the sofa and take a cigarette from my suit pocket before moving toward the balcony.

“What motel are you staying at?” Luca asks him, as I light my cig and take a long pull.

“Uhm, I found a couple.” In my periphery I see Fly glancing at his phone. “I’m waiting on a friend to let me know if I can crash at his place first.”

A friend again.Maybe I should put Jo on his ass 24/7 to find out who this friend is.

“If you really need a place tostay, I have a?—”

A sudden idea forms inside my head, so I cut off Luca’s stupid offer. “You’ll stay here. In the extra room.”

The silence that follows my statement is somehow noisy in its deep muteness.

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