Baddest Bad Boys (9 page)

She’d loved the tenderness, but she loved the wild ride too, his body hunched, muscular abdomen clutching and releasing. Sweat stood out on his forehead, and his eyes burned out of his stark face. His hips slammed against hers. He grunted with each jarring stroke.

The medallion around his neck flashed and swung. Robin slid her fingers into the mat of damp black hair on his hard chest, and gave herself up to it, letting him jolt her closer and closer to another peak.

She tried to hold back, to wait so that she could watch him as he’d done to her, but his skill was too compelling. He dragged her implacably along with him, and pulled her over the brink into chaos.

They lay together after, a damp snarl of limbs. Robin stroked his shoulders, felt the jolting thud of his heart. The sweat cooled. Jon twitched the sleeping bag over them. “You OK?” he asked.

“Stop asking me that,” she said lazily. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“You make me crazy. I can’t believe I did that to you. Again.”

“Relax, already. I begged you to,” she mumbled.

He reached down, holding the condom in place, and pulled out of her body with a groan. “God, I love how you hug me. Plush and tight.”

She was too shy to offer compliments about his male member, though God knows it deserved a few.

He lay, limp. “I have to get rid of this thing,” he muttered.

“OK. I can take a hint.” She slid the condom carefully off him.

“Hey,” he protested. “It’s my dick, it’s my come. I’ll take care of it.”

“No, you just lie there like a strand of overcooked linguini,” she said. “You’ve put out quite enough for the moment.”

She trotted into the kitchen and took care of it. Then she took the opportunity to answer the call of nature, splash her face, rinse her mouth. When she came back, she gazed down at his sprawled body.

She wasn’t the linger-in-bed type. She was up before six, out of the shower and about her business in ten minutes or less. But it wasn’t every day she had the man of her dreams in her bed. And it wasn’t going to be for long, either. She forced herself to swallow that down.

It went down hard, but she was disposed to be appreciative of what she’d already gotten. Already more than she’d dared to hope for.

She climbed into bed, and snuggled down into the crumpled nylon nest with him. His arms tightened, dragging her into his force field of scorching heat. “So?” he said, his voice almost apprehensive.

She draped her leg over his muscular, hairy thigh. Her skin prickled with delight at the contact. “So what?”

“So what’s the verdict? As a first sexual experience, how did this measure up to your fantasies?”

She considered her reply, her face going stupidly pink. “I’ve been wondering how anybody lucky enough to have a lover ever gets anything done. Why aren’t they all boinking like bunnies, day and night?”

He laughed, and for the first time the sound was relaxed and unforced, not a harsh, cynical bark. “It’s not always like this.”

“It’s not?” She studied his somber face.

He shook his head. “Almost never. Sometimes it’s hot and sometimes it’s fun. But a lot of the time, it’s a lot of pounding and sweating, and then just…a quick shudder. And afterwards, you look at the woman, and you just don’t know what the fuck to say to her.”

Robin didn’t know how to respond. She sensed that it was the kind of admission he was unused to making. It was so bleak and lonely.

She ran her fingers through his silky hair. Caressed his scratchy jaw. “Do you feel that way now, with me?” she asked.

His eyes widened, in shock. “Fuck, no! Not in the least.”

“Good,” she whispered, relieved.

“On the contrary. Sex this good…it’s not normal,” he said, in a halting voice. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had sex this hot in my life.”

She swatted his shoulder for his extravagant silliness. “Oh, get out of town. With a total beginner? Tell me a better one.”

“I swear. It’s like we’re in each other’s heads. The feedback loop is out of control. I thought sex like that only happened when you’re in—”

Love. He cut the phrase off before the word sneaked out, but she heard it, hanging between them. She felt his tension rise. “Uh, I—”

“Don’t sweat it,” she said softly.

He looked miserable. “Robin, I—”

“Shhh.” She put her finger to his lips. “I told you yesterday no strings. I meant it. I was prepared to leave first thing this morning.”

“Robin, it’s not like that—”

“Hear me out,” she said. “I’m having an excellent time, and I want to stay, at least till tomorrow afternoon. I have a clown gig tomorrow evening. So let’s make a magic bubble. We don’t say the L-word, or talk about the future. We just enjoy this, and when it ends, it ends. You’ve got your life and career, and so do I. What plays in Vegas, and all that.”

He looked disgruntled. “You’re cool about this, for a virgin.”

She blinked. “I’m no longer a virgin. Or didn’t you notice?”

“I noticed.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m warning you. You let the beast out of its cage. There’s no putting it back in. Not without a dart gun and leg shackles. If you stick around, I’ll be at you all the time. I’m talking a wild boar in rut.”

“I was counting on it,” she said demurely.

There was a charged silence, and his eyes took on that hot glow. He reached for her. Robin scooted back, giggling, and slid off the bed.

“Not before you feed me some breakfast. I’m hungry.”

He bounded out of bed. “I’m hungry, too, now that you mention it. Cheese, pepper and tomato omelette and some bacon sound good?”

“Fabulous. Have you ever seen a naked woman juggle raw eggs?”

“Oh, Jesus,” he said, with feeling. “I am so in for it.”

5

Julia nibbled on her third lemon cookie. Normally she would never indulge. William had disapproved of gluttony and required her to stay trim. But she hadn’t eaten in thirty-six hours. Until she joined William on a higher plane, she was still a slave to her body’s needs.

She’d sorted Molly’s medicines according to a complex chart. It had occurred to her to start her mischief by maliciously mixing up the old hag’s medicines. The shriveled creature was clearly important to Amendola, if Molly’s prattle was to be believed. He did odd jobs for her, took her to the doctor, drove her to the senior center, spent holidays with her, picked up her medicines, et cetera. She, in return, baked him casseroles, cookies and chicken pot pies, and meddled in his life.

But Julia simply wasn’t familiar enough with these drugs to ensure a lethal dose of anything. Too many risks, too many unknowns.

“So where did Jon go off fishing to, anyway?” she asked, in a just-making-conversation tone. “Did he go down to Rogue River again?”

“Oh, no,” the lady said. “He went up to Danny’s place, I expect.”

Julia blinked. “Danny’s place?” she asked. “Where is that?”

Crumbs clung to the old lady’s chin as she waved a gnarled hand. “Some cabin on a lake, up in the mountains. Jonny loves to fish.”

“Which mountains?” It was hard, not sounding eager.

“Oh, I don’t remember, if I ever knew. I must say, it’s about time he got a rest. He ran himself ragged putting away that monster, that awful Egg Man person. Poor Jonny deserves a bit of fun.”

Julia abruptly reconsidered the feasibility of killing Molly, but William shook his head in her mind, glancing at his wrist. The old crone was so close to death already, there would hardly be any point in it.

“I’m so sorry, Molly, but I must be running along,” she said.

“You’ll be back in a couple of days, won’t you?” the old lady fussed. “Jonny said you’d check in on me every two days til he got back.”

“Of course,” Julia soothed. “I look forward to it.”

She eased herself out the door. It took strength of will not to crush the old woman’s arthritically deformed hand when she shook it.

Monster. The mouthy old bitch. How dare she.

Julia swept by a chubby lady with frizzy hair and a white uniform pantsuit that emphasized the big span of her hips, waddling purposefully up the walk. Her nametag read Joanna Hirsch.

She slipped into her van and pulled away. Whew. That was close, but William had helped her. Time to find a hotel, take what bits of straw she had gleaned, and spin them cleverly into gold.

 

Amazingly, breakfast happened, despite the naked egg juggling. To say nothing of the death-defying knife toss display, which continued to freak him out of his skull. Robin scoffed at his wimp-ass lily liver as she yanked the carving knife out of the cedar paneling. A guy needed nerves of steel to hang out with this chick.

Although the steel part of the equation was being cheerfully provided by his indefatigable dick. Cooking breakfast naked had been a mistake. Cooking required concentration. Having his prong waving around in front of him, drooling with eagerness, was distracting. And the bouncing tits, and swinging hair did not help matters.

He was so titillated, he was about to explode. And his jaw and his gut both ached from smiling so much. Laughing so hard.

They devoured omelette, toast, fresh OJ, a heap of crisp bacon, and finished their meal both gazing speculatively at the last piece of bacon on the plate. Jon put a martyred look on his face and did the gallant thing. “Go ahead,” he sighed. “Take it. It’s yours.”

“Oh, no,” she said demurely. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“I insist,” he said, stoic to the last.

“OK.” She popped it into her mouth and crunched, eyes sparkling.

“Hey!” He scowled, betrayed. “You didn’t even share!”

She washed it down with orange juice, eyes sparkling. “I grew up with two hungry brothers. I know how to grab food before it vanishes.”

Jon grunted. He could forage like a stray dog too. Not in all the foster homes he’d lived in, but many of them, it had been every kid for himself. Though he’d tried to look out for the little ones. When he could.

Robin sensed his shift in mood, and her face went somber. “Sorry. That was dumb. I guess you must have had it a lot worse than me.”

“Aw, I did OK. I was a big, bad-tempered punk,” he said shortly. “I didn’t get messed with too much. It’s the weaker ones that suffer.”

Robin reached across the table and touched the tiny medallion at his throat. She stood up and bent over the table, tits dangling before her, squinting to make out the tiny image in relief on the gold surface. Two angels, bending over a baby in a cradle. “What’s this?”

He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, a nervous habit he had when he was thinking hard. “It’s a baptismal medallion.”

“Are you Catholic?” She looked fascinated. “I never even thought about your religious bents before. Call me shallow.”

“No shallower than me,” he said. “I never thought about them, either. I was born Catholic, I guess. And I was baptized, evidently. My mother’s name on my birth cert is Maria Grazia Amendola. Father unknown. She must have been Italian Catholic. She died shortly after I was born. This is all I have from her.” He fingered it. “I never take it off,” he admitted. “Don’t know why.”

“I know why.” Robin circled his chair, leaning against him and nuzzling the top of his head. Her warm weight felt great. “So? If you’re not Catholic, are you something else?” she probed.

He shook his head. “I don’t bother with that stuff.” It was hard to concentrate, while his back was so occupied feeling how the tight little nubs of her nipples rubbed him, in such exquisite, tingling detail. “I don’t really believe in anything much. Except justice, maybe.”

“Justice?” She sounded puzzled, but curious. “Believe in it how?”

He shook his head. “It’s more like I just want to believe in it,” he said, in a halting voice. “The possibility of it, anyhow. It’s all you can offer people who get hurt by fuckheads who don’t care about anything but money or themselves. Or people who run into monsters who enjoy inflicting pain. It never makes up for what’s been lost. But it’s all there is to give. If there’s anything I want to stand for, it’s that.”

She sat down on his lap, her smooth, perfect buttocks nestling against his erection, slid her arms round his neck and gave him a soft kiss, part holy benediction from a sweet madonna, part pure, red-hot scorching temptation. “Jon Amendola, you are one righteous dude.”

He struggled to find his voice. “Don’t be fooled,” he said. “I’m a heinous dickwad most of the time. Ask my exes.”

She tapped his lips, looking stern. “No talking about past lovers. It’s not fair, since you’ve had hordes and I don’t have any.”

“No past, no future? Sort of limits conversational possibilities,” he grumbled. “And I’m not much of a chatterbox to begin with.”

“Phooey. You’re doing just fine.” She kissed him again. “So cope.”

It was definitely looking like he was going to get lucky again, but now he had his own questions to ask, before his brain melted down.

“How old were you when your mom died?” he asked.

Her eyes went flat. It unnerved him. “Danny never told you?”

“Told me what?” He was getting apprehensive.

She looked away. “She’s not dead,” she said. “She walked out on us, after our daddy got himself killed. I was one at the time. I don’t remember her at all. I’m surprised Danny never told you.”

He cast back, trying to remember. “I thought he said he was an orphan. Or maybe I just made assumptions and he never corrected me.”

“Did he tell you about our father?” Robin asked.

“How he was a con man? Yeah, he did tell me that. He said your dad used to use him to run his scams. That he was pretty good at it.”

“Yeah, Danny’s the sneakiest one of us. Me and Mac are hopeless that way. Not a sneaky bone in our bodies. So both parents were pretty problematic. Maybe we’re better off without them. I don’t know.” Robin’s voice was muted. “I tried to pry details out of Mac and Danny when I was littler. They just got angry. Finally I got a clue, and let them be.”