Chapter 8

Dante’s cock twitched, begging for attention. He reached down to his belt, as both he and Izz worked it loose. Just as Izz popped the button of Dante’s jeans there was a tap at the window above Dante’s head.

Both men froze. Dante growled in frustration and sat up. He wiped away enough condensation so he could peer out of the window. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“Who is it?” Izz asked as he pushed himself to a sitting position.

“My sister.”

* * * *

Asking Georgina to keep her mouth shut was like asking a bear not to shit in the woods. The first three or four days after getting caught in the back of the family station wagon were uncomfortable. At least once a day, Dante walked in on waitresses and kitchen staff chatting about the boss’s son banging the new busboy. Nobody bothered to ask him, relying solely on what Georgina told them.