Page 29 of Ruthless Roses
The first night we had sex since the baby, she was into it. She was almost there. So damn close as I devoured her pussy and felt it throb and go slicker and slicker against my mouth.
…then it’s like a connection was severed that’s yet to be repaired.
Everything I’ve tried has been a failure—eating her out, mixing things up by adding spontaneity and trying new positions and even moving things outside of our bedroom.
Toys.
By the end of the failure week, it’s so bad, I decide to spend an extra hour or two at Nirvana having a drink. Normally, I’d be eager to make it home to Phi and Dom.
I down my whiskey highball in one swallow and earn a pointed look from both Stitches and Rhino.
Rhino’s visiting the club for the first time in months. He hasn’t managed the club for years now, but in his eyes, it’ll always be his.
The precious baby he oversaw for decades.
We sit in the office that used to be his. You’d never know looking around the room—gone are the hideous polar bear fur rugs and cherry-red walls. In other words, the room’s more tasteful.
He surveys the place, looking large and thickset on the leather sofa, and then gives a nod of approval. “A little drab. But then again, flashy’s never been your style, has it?”
“We can’t all deck our offices in animal fur,” I answer. I get up to refill my drink.
“I liked the fur,” Stitches says. “It was soft on my feet.”
Rhino shoots him a sideways look. “Let me find out you were walking barefoot on my rugs,goombah. You’re not ready to meet your maker, are you?”
I return to my seat with a fresh drink to Stitches giving a short laugh and promising his bare feet had gone nowhere near Rhino’s rugs. I can’t even join in on the roast—my mind’s too distracted on Delphine and the issue we’re having.
Is it something that’ll pass? Are we putting too much pressure on ourselves?
Everything else in our lives is going well.
Business is thriving. Enemies have been eliminated. We’re flourishing in parenthood. Our home life is quiet, peaceful, and safe.
Things have never been better.
Except…
I scowl ashepollutes my thoughts.
“Earth to Psycho,” Stitches says. “Everything okay over there?”
I blink to the sight of both Stitches and Rhino staring. I stare back.
“What?”
“You look distracted is all. Everything good in paradise?”
Rhino snorts, fishing the olive out of his martini. “You kidding? They’re new parents. Life’s miserable.”
“No,” I correct. “Things are good. Dominic is a very relaxed baby.”
“Then what is it?”
Both men await my answer like the nosy fucks they are. I’m half a breath from telling them to shut the hell up and stay out of my affairs, but I’m a few drinks in. Which means I’m not completely sober, and for once, I’m feeling like sharing.
Like this is some damn Dear Abby column.
Stupid.