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When Alessandro moved in, I knew he had ulterior motives. He was burdened with the insufferable task of keeping me under his thumb. I couldn’t go anywhere without him silently following me. Oh, he gave me the illusion of privacy, but I knew he was always there. Watching. Listening. Protecting. I ignored it for the better part of five years.
Until three months ago.
One late night on my balcony helped me come to the conclusion that every other Tuesday night, Alessandro brought over a different man to fuck in his living room with the blinds open. And I didn’t mean simple, faceless romps over in thirty minutes. This was hours of angry fucking, sucking, and everything else. I figured if he could follow me around New York, I could watch him have sex with randoms. At least this way, the intrusion on privacy was mutual.
The first time I saw him with another man, I was smoking a joint and thinking about birds born from flames. I casually stared at the building across from mine while wrapped in a cloud of smoke and blanketed with a high so palpable it consumed my consciousness and made me think about running away.
I wasn’t expecting to see Alessandro with his hand wrapped around another man’s throat with his cock jerking in and out of his partner’s ass. It was a brutal, passionless sort of fuck. Just something to get off to on a Tuesday night.
The next time I saw him, I brought popcorn to enjoy the show. The time after that, I grabbed blankets. Tonight, I was doing a full-blown campout. I’m sure he could see me in the glow of the city lights, which was perhaps why I made such a production of peeping through his windows. It wasn’t like he closed the blinds. Alessandro and I struggled with our differences, but we also didn’t work to put distance between us, either.
When the light flicked on in his apartment, I took a sip of my wine and settled under the blankets, prepared to watch. Alessandro opened the door, and I grinned in anticipation. He looked handsome in his suit. I couldn’t see his dark gray eyes from here, but I imagined them sparkling with anticipation. His chestnut hair was curled and touching the tips of his ears. His long legs stalked into the room, purpose driving every step, with another man following behind him.
The man with him looked older. I could tell from my perch across the street that he had salt-and-pepper hair and tan skin. His muscles were defined but not massive. He was attractive but didn’t have the masculine presence Alessandro did. I didn’t feel compelled to stare at him. I tried to see if Alessandro had a type, but every Tuesday, he brought home someone new, someone different. Blond. Bulky. Thin. Aged. College students. Short. Tall. Black. White. The only commonality between them all was the appendage dangling between their legs.
The older man stripped immediately and dropped to his knees as Alessandro unzipped his pants and pulled out his hardened monster of a cock. My mouth watered, and my skin hummed as his large hand reached out and grabbed the older man’s chin. I could see his mouth moving, but didn’t make out the words.
I watched through the bars of my balcony while chewing on the inside of my cheek. The man’s head started bobbing, and Alessandro tipped his chin up, mouth parted in angry ecstasy. I watched with shaking fingers. Up and down. His back flexed. His body moved. Alessandro fucked his mouth frantically and furiously, grabbing the back of the man’s head and deep throating him with a vengeance. I watched transfixed by the way Alessandro moved.
And then his piercing gaze zeroed in on me. His awareness slipped through the window, through the bars of my balcony, and straight to my hooded eyes and parted lips. I debated on ignoring his gaze, but instead, I lifted my hand and waved, my fingers wiggling flirtatiously.
Alessandro shoved the man off, then tucked his hard cock in his jeans before exiting his apartment.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I didn’t bother getting up or running. Alessandro would find me. I thought my brother kept me on a tight leash, but Alessandro put the Moretti overprotective gene to shame. I sipped on my drink as he made his way over to me, and my glass was empty by the time I heard the lock to my front door click through my open window. I listened to his angry footsteps trek across my small apartment until he was sliding open the patio door and stopping in front of my inflated bed.
“Grace, what the fuck are you doing?” he growled while I fumbled with the corner of my blanket. I knew I couldn’t look up at him. I’d get lost in his gray eyes and forget that Nix was gone.
"Watching you get your dick sucked by that silver fox. Is he any good?"
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye as he crouched down to peer at me. I sucked in a deep breath and rolled my neck.
"You're camped out on your patio, watching me get off? Don't you have anything better to do? You're a senior in college now—again. Go study." He was seething.
"All my classes are online," I grumbled. "It's a Tuesday night. And we both know I don't date. I'm too busy pining for a dead man." I regretted my words immediately. Alessandro hated when I referred to Nix asdead.
His hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, squeezing with threatening intensity that forced me to look up. Alessandro had a lethal inferno burning in his expression. His olive skin glimmered in the city lights. His scruffy jaw was clenched with barely contained anger. That handsome asshole.
I didn't move. We'd done this song and dance plenty of times before. "He's not dead," Alessandro whispered threateningly.
I couldn't speak, but I wanted to scream that he was. Hehadto be. Because the alternative hurt too much. I didn't want to think that the man who swore never to leave me was choosing to be away.
I kept still as my vision blurred, specks of black faded and curled around the edges of his face. My lungs burned. My pulse felt like it was throbbing.
Alessandro let me go, and I sputtered and gasped for air. "Phoenix Bailey is not dead," he repeated. Hearing his name seared through me. It was a familiar sort of pain that made me want to reach for another glass of wine. Fuck Alessandro. Fuck Nix.
It was bad enough that I had to grieve a man I never truly had. I also had to share a ghost with his ex-lover. Alessandro and I were bonded by Phoenix--and he settled like a wedge made of spikes between us.
"You're a mess, Grace Moretti," Alessandro snapped while standing. He kicked at a pillow on the ground before shrugging out of his suit jacket and sitting beside me on the inflatable mattress. My weight shifted, and I slumped over toward him.
"Why did you move in across from me?"
"Why do you watch me out here?" he retorted with a sneer.
"It's not like you bother to close the blinds. And you're fun to watch. Although last week, when you brought out that gigantic butt plug, I felt my asshole pucker."
Alessandro sighed while adjusting the blanket over his legs and lying back. The New York air was chilly and biting. I lay down next to him, our arms brushing as we looked up at the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars, but I imagined them up there twinkling and judging me.
