Conheartists

by Webster, K

  “And you curse a lot,” she sasses, unscrewing the bottle and sipping. “Holy Tulsa tornadoes, this stuff is wretched!”

  Scratching at my jaw, I lift a brow at her. “Drink.”

  “I’d rather lick the wallpaper.”

  We both glance over at the hotel wall and cringe.

  “Fine, I’ll drink your nasty juice!” She huffs in exaggeration and then downs the whole thing.

  Oh boy…

  “Grossss,” she shrieks, scrunching her face up and shuddering all over. “It burns! Ack!” She shakes her head and scratches at her tongue with her fingernails. “Wait. Oh. Waiiiiit a minute.” She smiles at me, beautiful and bright. “It’s warm now. In my belly.” She pats her stomach. “Can Chandler have some?”

  He yips with excitement.

  “No,” I bark out and give the dog a pointed look. The fucker pouts, running in a circle at our feet, and yaps at me in irritation.

  I drain down my own bottle of vodka before grabbing her hips and hauling her to me. Burying my nose in her hair, I inhale her sweet scent.

  “Know what else is warm?” I kiss the side of her neck below her ear. She lets out a tiny groan when I nip at her earlobe.

  “W-What?”

  “My mouth.” I suck on her earlobe.

  “You w-want to p-put your mouth on my belly?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “That’s weird, con man.”

  “Is it weird that I want to put my mouth other places?” I suck on her neck hard enough I’ll leave a mark. The thought gets my dick incredibly hard.

  “You do?” she whispers. “I mean…you shouldn’t.” Then a moan that makes my dick ache. “Where?”

  I nudge her thighs apart and rub her with my leg.

  “You want to put your mouth there?!” she squeals, scandalized.

  “I do.”

  “That’s gross,” she argues. “And highly inappropriate considering your situation!”

  I pull away to look at her. My fingers bite into her jaw and I ravish her plump lips with mine. I suck on her bottom lip and nip at it. I tongue fuck her mouth with my own. I devour every mewl and breathless whine. When I pull away, her eyelids are hooded and her cheeks are pink.

  “Feel good?”

  “Yes,” she breathes.

  “I want to do that,” I say, nodding to her mouth, “here.” My thigh presses against her pussy and her eyes flutter closed. “And it’s not gross. In fact, I can guarantee it’ll be goddamn delicious.”

  “I think I’m going to need to get a little warmer for that to happen.” Her big eyes pop open. “Hit me again, Sam!”

  Francis

  Never Have I Ever Used a Vegetable for…

  Hit me again, Sam? Really, Frannie?

  And what did I just agree to? Not that. Certainly not that. Wife and all…

  His brow goes up, that deviant smile causing more havoc to my belly and malfunctioning brain. I try and lock my lips, but I know what’s coming.

  “Not that you’re Sam, the bartender from Casablanca, all-time best romantic film. You’re Luca. Totally different. Though, you could be Rick Blaine. Very edgy. Cynical. Handsome. Did you know Casablanca was his first romantic role? Stole the show. “Here’s looking at you, kid.” Did you know that line wasn’t originally in the—”

  He’s suddenly in my face, his index finger pressing to my lips.

  “Why so nervous?”

  “Nervous? No way! Why would I be—”

  “You turn into your dog, yapping a mile a minute about nonsense.”

  Chandler, upon being spoken about, begins his own yapping tirade. I turn my creased eyes on him for helping prove his point. “And while I have no interest in the movie you’re going on about, I do want to know one thing.” He takes the remaining space between us and eliminates it with one large step. “You think I’m handsome, huh?” His smile lifts on one side. My cheeks blaze crimson and my mouth opens to vomit more nervous chatter. “No need to explain. I get it. You’re into bad boys. Handsome cons, gamblers. If I told you I owned a nightclub once, would you instantly fall to your knees?”

  I gasp. “So, you have seen Casablanca?” I perk up.

  “Who hasn’t? Rick was a badass. He ruled that town and everyone who entered his nightclub. He also had magic hands on the betting table.” He leans in and I swear he’s going to kiss me again. And, gee willikers, I want that. That’s the alcohol speaking on my behalf. The alcohol has forgotten all about his wife. My heart threatens to explode as it beats like a drum in my chest. I beg for his lips to touch mine, his hands back at the base of my neck, empowering me to do the same. My hands itch to touch him. Feel the strength of his muscles against my small palms. I’ve only read in books about the sexual desire of masculinity, and with Luca in front of me, his entire presence, as macho as they come, I can’t deny the strange awareness I feel between my thighs. Oh boy do I want this. I shouldn’t, though! He’s married with a family. But we’ve already kissed several times. What’s just one more…

  I mentally scribble down an IOU to his poor wife for stealing another kiss that doesn’t belong to me. My eyes shut waiting for his touch, but it doesn’t come. I peek through one eye to see him lean past me to grab two miniature bottles off the table.

  When he straightens, he looks cool and collected, unlike myself who feels as if my face is on fire. How extremely stupid of me to think he would want to kiss me again.

  Gathering up my wits, I say, “Well, what about this drinking game? The night isn’t getting any younger.” As if I need any more to drink. Just the small amount has me too loose in the mind and tongue.

  “Sure.” He takes the cap off the bottle and twists one open and hands it to me. I go to throw it back, when he stops me. “Whoa there, killer, take it easy. How often do you drink?”

  “Pfft. All the time!” I go to take another big gulp, but he stops me, his inquisitive eyes not accepting my answer. “Okay, a few times with Bea, even though it’s terrible for her diabetes and Mabel can never know. Oh! And Henry took me out for my birthday once and I had a martini. It was quite tasty. They put a cherry in it and small little ice chips.” He shakes his head, taking the drink away from me. “Hey!” I whine and he downs the bottle himself.

  “Let’s take it slow. I can’t have my little squirrel getting sick while on her big adventure.”

  “I thought this was a kidnapping,” I remind him.

  “It is. You’re still my captive, but it doesn’t mean we can’t have a little adventure in the meantime. We do have two whole days to get to Kansas.”

  I can’t hide the grin forming across my alcohol induced warm cheeks. Even though all the stress and worry he must be going through, he’s not only willing to help me get answers, but wants to give me those thrilling life adventures I crave. The ones I’ve only yet read about in my books. I want to throw my hands around his neck and hug him. Thank him for being so generous and even though he’s still grumpy most of the time, he’s kind and accepting. I hold back from assaulting him and write an IOU in my head for another wrongful thought of where I wish this moment would lead to inappropriate things.

  “Okay. Adventure it is. How about that drinking game?”

  “Never have I ever mixed ketchup and mayonnaise together.” I giggle, feeling the three mini bottles of liquor I’ve drunk since we started our drinking game. We’ve since made ourselves comfortable as two can be, sitting face-to-face in the two fancy desk chairs, our knees every so often brushing together.

  Luca doesn’t take a drink and I throw my hands up in shock. “Are you serious? It’s the best concoction ever! I learned about it in a food magazine. Beatrice and I tested it out. It was magnificent!”

  He shakes his head. “Some condiments are meant to be eaten by themselves. My turn. Never have I ever stayed out past midnight.”

  Shoot!

  I can’t drink to that one.

  Luca laughs loudly. “Seriously?”

  My hands fly up. “It’s just that it’s
important that I open the store on time. So, bedtime is essential. Plus, Chandler likes his sleep, so we… Ugh. I’m super boring, aren’t I?”

  He bumps his knee into mine. “I wouldn’t say boring. Maybe one of a kind is a better description.” I snort and slap his knee. I take a sip from the bottle I’m holding, forgetting it’s empty. “Well, shoot, I’m all out! Maybe we should go out and get more! I can try a con at the bar. Maybe pretend I’m a waitress and you and I—”

  “Slow down, Bonnie.” He laughs. “No need to leave the room.” Luca gets up and pulls out his burner phone and dials a number. “Yes, good evening. I’m calling from room one-oh-five.” He glances at me and gifts me with the sexiest wink known to man. “Every time I call or speak to someone, you pronounce my name wrong. I pay enough to get proper treatment here… That’s right, Moreau. About time someone shows some respect. Now, I need someone to bring me a bottle of your best tequila. And leave it by the door. I prefer your staff not bother me. And make it quick. I’d really hate to add horrible service to the other complaints I’m wavering on speaking to the manager about. Thank you. Same to you.”

  He hangs up and tosses the phone onto the bed. “Now, where were we?”

  “We were pretending I wasn’t a bore. And you’re pretty good at that!” I beam, way too excited about my kidnapper’s con skills.

  He sits back down, resting his ankle on his knee in one of those typical cool guy, relaxed poses. “I think while we wait, we should spice up this game.”

  “I’m not really much for spicy food.”

  He puts his hands behind his head. “Not the spicy I’m talking about, babe. Just a few minutes ago, I had my mouth on your neck. You seemed to enjoy it, then out of nowhere you hid right back into your shell. Why?”

  Why? Because he’s like a shark. I’m a minnow and I can’t decide if he wants to eat me or, well, eat me! I accidently giggle, throwing my hands over my mouth.

  “Wanna elaborate on what’s so funny?”

  “Well, certainly not.” Silent thoughts are best kept silent.

  We hear the sound of a concierge knocking on the door of the room next to us and Luca gets up to peek out the peephole. A few seconds pass, and he opens the door and returns with a bucket of ice and a bottle of liquor. He uses the two crystal glasses on the dresser and pours a hefty amount in each. He hands me one and sits. “Drink.”

  I’m already light on my feet, so I skip the sniffing and take a large gulp.

  Bad idea.

  I cough and almost choke the fiery liquid back up. “What in the heavens is this poison?”

  “It’ll help loosen that tight tongue of yours. Now, let’s get back to our game.”

  God bless it, my chest is on fire. I cough once more and pull myself together to think. “Never have I ever gone back twice to refill my plate at a salad bar.” While I’m at it I should probably write an IOU for that one time too—

  Luca drinks his entire glass and jumps right into his. “Never have I ever had a man go down on me.”

  I choke.

  He stares at me, waiting for me to drink.

  Clearly, I don’t, since that would be cheating.

  “No? For real?”

  My mouth opens and closes. Shame and embarrassment flare across my face.

  Luca’s rare laugh is infectious, sending a tremor of goose bumps down to my toes. “Babe, you’ve never had a man’s mouth down on your pussy?”

  Dear Earth, may a meteor slam into this exact hotel and save me from answering—

  “Francis—”

  “That’s a negative.” There. Aliens can come and attack our planet and save me now.

  More chuckling. “I figured with the way you turned beet red earlier.” Just the mention of him nudging my legs apart has me practically unravelling in front of him.

  “I think that’s truly none of your business and we should keep this light. Never have I ever eaten dessert before dinner.” I smirk as I take a drink. Such a no-no, but sometimes I sneak a piece of Mabel’s pie before—

  “Wow, rebel, never have I ever put my mouth around a man’s cock—Jesus!”

  Luca wipes away the booze that just went spitting out of my mouth onto his face.

  Well, that’s what he gets. Who asks such a brash question?

  “My turn, never have I ever killed anyone.” We both pause and I wait for him to drink or not to drink. I’m hoping I’m not in the presence of a murderer, but you can never be too sure.

  He doesn’t drink and continues on. “Nice try. Never have I ever ridden a man until my legs turned into Jell-O.”

  God bless it. “What in Sam hell is wrong with you?”

  “Drink or don’t drink.”

  “Not drinking. Never have I ever thought about getting a real job.”

  He drinks. “Never have I ever orgasmed from my own hand.”

  Ugh. At least we both drink.

  “My turn. Never have I ever enjoyed a Richard Simmons workout.” He stalls, but with a smile breaching his features, he drinks. “I knew it!”

  “That I sadly admit, I did enjoy. But it was more watching you have the time of your life. Richard was a hard no for me.” He takes another swig, emptying out his glass. “My turn. Never have I ever been fucked by a man.”

  I choke.

  Then slam my drink.

  And choke again.

  “Okay, maybe the tequila was a bad idea.”

  He reaches for my glass and I tug it back.

  “I can handle it. I’m an adult.”

  “With the tolerance of a baby. New rules. I chug, you sip.”

  I pout, pretending I want to drink more, but thankful, because that stuff is the devil’s juice. I put my glass down and straighten in my chair. My vision is a bit off and I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little dizzy. Luca leans forward, too close. I fear he’s able to hear the drumming of my heart. Instead of another wishful attempt at ravaging me, he reaches over to the bottle and refills our glasses.

  “I must say,” I stutter slightly over my words. “This game has gotten a bit personal.”

  “Your innocence has piqued my curiosity and now I’d like to explore more.”

  “There’s really nothing to tell. I’m also not that innocent.” Both truth and lies.

  “And I beg to differ.” His leg stretches, scissoring between my thighs. I fight not to squeeze mine together, desperately wanting the embrace of his thick thigh pressed against my intimate parts. Feeling wicked at my own thoughts, I shake my head.

  “Just play the game. Never have I ever taken more than one free sucker at the bank when making a deposit.”

  “Never have I ever used three fingers to pleasure a woman.”

  Jesus. The room is suddenly on fire. My cheeks are hot. My body, hot. “Never have I ever watered my lawn on an off-watering day.”

  “Never have I ever gotten my nipples sucked so hard you came just by my tongue alone.”

  My legs squeeze together, catching the thickness of his thigh in the process. “Never have I ever gone back for another sample on free sample day at the grocery store.”

  “Never have I ever taken my tongue to your sweet ass—”

  “NEVER HAVE I EVER USED A VEGETABLE FOR PLEASURE!”

  This time he chokes.

  I cover my mouth.

  “Oh God, that came out wrong.”

  “It came out all right, babe. Explain now.” His smile is outright deadly. And for a moment I wish he would just put me out of my misery.

  “It was in a book once.”

  His brow goes up. He’s not letting this one go. Shoot.

  “See, Beatrice gives me these books. Romance books.”

  “Ones where people use vegetables on people?”

  Ugh, he’s not making this easy.

  “Well, yeah, and no. I normally prefer a sweet romance, but Bea, she’s in this book club. They suggest dark stuff. Stuff where girls get kidnapped by older men and have things done to them, with like cucumbers and s
tuff…” I trail off because he looks about ready to fall off his chair. “What?”

  He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “You won’t stay out late and I bet you don’t speed up at yellow lights, but you read smut books about girls who get fucked by cucumbers?”

  I sit up straighter and cross my arms over my chest. “For what it’s worth, he did it out of love. And yellow means slow down. More people should realize that.”

  Luca throws his head back and bellows out, “Jesus.” He pulls his head back to face me. “You truly are something else.” We stare at one another until the humor of it all settles in and I start to laugh.

  “Wow, what a mess I am.” I take a deep breath, calming my laughter. “I bet you can’t wait to dump me on Death’s door and be rid of me.” I exhale a long sigh. Maybe spending the remainder of my days with goats in solitude is what I deserve.

  Luca moves in his chair, his hand reaching forward to cup my cheek. “I think you’re crazy as fuck and I have to admit… I’m fucking into it. And no, I’m not going to dump you on Death’s door. I promise. We’ll figure out why he wants you, but he’s not getting to keep you.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper, leaning into his touch. A ding from his burner phone slices our moment in half and he’s out of his chair, reaching for the phone.

  “Damn,” he mutters, opening each attachment and zooming.

  “What? Is it bad? Let me see? Is Juniper in them?” I grab the phone, which he allows, and focus on the first photo. I can’t help but smile at the view of a goat, assuming it’s Billy with an apple in his mouth looking up at the sky as if he’s deep in thought. I may be walking into my own death, but I’ve suddenly become excited to meet Billy.

  The next photo is of another goat and the cutest little girl I’ve ever seen. Curly, dark brown hair and wide green eyes. She’s laughing while the goat eats something out of her hand. I look up at Luca, who has relief written on his face. I share in his happiness, almost fighting back tears of joy. I flip again, and my heart stops. My smile falls, but it’s not because the photo I’m looking at is bad. It’s because the woman in the photo is beautiful. Long dark hair, a bright smile. Absolutely stunning like the celebrities I watch on television. In the photo, she hugs her daughter as they share in a moment. This time I mistakenly allow a single tear to fall.