The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,62

where you’re in charge?”

He made a dark noise low in his throat.

In response, I took him in my mouth, hands wrapping around the length of him.

“Shit,” he hissed, his grip on my hair tightening to near pain.

This was my first time ever giving a blowjob, but I was a quick study. I watched and listened for Alessandro’s reactions—took my directions from how tightly he was gripping my head.

I ran my tongue down his cock, scraping the head with my teeth.

“No teeth,” Alessandro barked, the words barely audible.

I laughed but obeyed, taking him further down my throat. With my fingers, I gently cupped his balls, softly rubbing my thumb over the tight skin.

Alessandro groaned.

His hips bucked, his body’s warning—

He came into my mouth, hot and salty.

“Sophia,” was the only word from his lips, so dark and low I wasn’t sure if it was a confession of love or a threat.

I pulled him out of my mouth, looking up at him. Cum dripped from my swollen lips.

Alessandro crouched down, hands on either side of my face. He kissed me deep and slow, tongue entwined with mine. “My Sophia,” he whispered, more to himself than me. “My love, my donna.”

The holidays were always an exciting part of life in the Outfit. Any chance to spend time together as a family, drinking and talking about each other, was a highly anticipated event. Especially with Don Piero’s death still looming over Chicago, any chance to celebrate was enjoyed.

Thanksgiving was spent with immediate families, whereas Christmas was the more publicized event. After spending the morning in Church (after opening presents, of course) there was the Christmas party, one of the more beloved events in the Outfit.

Alessandro found Dante and I in the kitchen as staff bustled around, decorating and cooking.

“What have you done to my son?” he asked.

“He’s a reindeer.” I wiggled Dante’s foot. He smiled slightly. I had dressed him up in a little reindeer onesie, with antlers on his head. “He’s matching Polpetto.”

Alessandro looked down at Polpetto, who was in fact matching Dante. “Jesus Christ. At least wait until he can fight back.”

“Then I’ll never get to dress him up.”

Alessandro scooped up his son, holding him above his head. “What has your mother done to you, my boy?” He took off the antler headband, tossing it to the side. He gestured to the meals being laid out. “Everything almost ready?”

“Yes. I just have to go and get ready.” I kissed Dante’s forehead before giving my husband a soft kiss.

“Is your little politician coming?” he asked.

Salisbury was joining us for the party. “He is.”

“Do you not want me to talk to him?”

Alessandro was referring to that fact that Salisbury had gotten a bit big for his boots. He had been challenging me briefly, first at the Historical Society and now whenever we met up. He was forgetting that I was on his side. I had written it off as arrogance, but it would very quickly turn into something more dangerous.

“No. I’m not sure how I am going to handle that yet,” I murmured. “Let’s wait until after the holidays.”

He bowed his head.

When I came back downstairs a couple hours later, a few guests had begun to arrive. My husband stood in the foyer, Dante in the crook of his arm, trying to greet our family members patiently. From the bunching up of his muscles, he was growing agitated quickly.

Like he could sense me, Alessandro turned his head toward me, eyes darkening.

“Do you like my dress?”

“I do,” he said gravely.

The dress itself was long, and a deep red, the collar high and sleeves long. Despite the modest cut, the velvet clung to me. I had twisted my short hair over my shoulder, adding a red ribbon to the curls, but Alessandro hadn’t even noticed—his attention was sliding down the dress.

I grabbed his arm, squeezing almost warningly. “We’re in public.”

“That could change very quickly,” he said. “This is my house.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting my blush, and scratched Dante’s belly. Alessandro hadn’t changed him out of his reindeer onesie. “My little baby, you look as grumpy as your father.” Dante did have a scowl on his face. “Where is my boys’ Christmas spirit?”

“Mine’s upstairs,” Alessandro replied.

I laughed. “Come on. Let’s greet our guests.”

My house had been decorated within an inch of its life. From mistletoe above the doorways, to wreaths on the doors and golden red ribbons curling around candles. A huge tree sat in the living room, shimmering with twinkle lights, with an angel gracing the