“Babe, you’ve turned into a nympho. Seriously, though, are you okay?”
“I really, really am, Boo. Please don’t worry.”
Juno heard voices in the background and then the familiar voice of Blue. She heard her sister laugh. “I guess you need to, um, get off … the phone, I mean.”
Romy laughed. “You guessed, right. You’re okay, though, right?”
“I am. I really am. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Juno clicked off her phone and snuggled down in her bed. Romy sounded happy, and not cowed by what was happening, and Juno had to be happy with that. She fell asleep and was woken three hours later by Livia shouting to Nox that the baby was coming.
Seattle
Romy moaned as Blue’s cock thrust deeper and deeper inside her, his lips hungry on hers, on her throat, sucking at her nipples as he fucked her. She gripped his dark curls tightly, their lovemaking animal and feral.
“Christ, woman, you drive me crazy,” Blue groaned, slamming his hips against hers, sinking balls deep into her ready and swollen cunt. Romy was almost delirious with pleasure and her orgasm hit hard, leaving her breathless and with her head swimming. Blue came, shooting thick, creamy cum deep inside her belly and she clamped her legs around him, keeping him locked inside of her. His dark brown hair was damp with sweat, his skin salty, his eyes sleepy with love and pure desire. He was so beautiful, Romy wanted to cry.
She stroked his face, tracing a small scar on his cheek. “How did you get that?”
Blue smiled. “I wish I could tell you something cool, but I fell off my bike when I was a kid.”
“That’s not uncool.”
“The bike still had training wheels. And I still fell off of it.” Blue looked aggrieved as Romy started to laugh.
“Klutz. Sexy klutz, but still.”
Blue shrugged, grinning. “I wasn’t as suave as I am now.”
Romy snorted. “Suave. You didn’t realize at dinner two nights ago that you had marinara sauce all over your pretty face, Allende.”
“I did. I was just hoping to entice you to lick it off.”
“Ah,” Romy nodded wisely. “You know me well, doctor.”
“I know you well enough to know that food, any food, can charm you like a snake.”
Romy kissed him as he looked smug. “Speaking of snake, put that incredible cock of yours back in me, boss.”
Blue laughed. “Hmm, boss, I like that.” He hitched her legs around his waist again, his cock already hard again. He slid into her and Romy sighed happily, winding her arms around his neck.
“You know, boss, if you like that … I’d be willing to be dominated … in bed. For you? God, yeah, that would be such a turn on.”
He pinched her nipple hard and she yelped in surprise but it made her cunt flood with arousal. “Oh, you’re wet, baby girl,” Blue said, and slammed his cock deeper into her. They made love, clawing, biting, hungry for the other until they both came again, then, making sure their pagers were on, they wrapped their arms around one other and fell asleep.
Just after midnight, the door to the on-call room opened and Mac peered in, spotting them in the small puddle of light from the hallway. Romy heard the door open and she and Mac smiled at each other. Mac touched his hand over his heart and blew her a kiss, backing out of the room, and Romy felt safe and loved. No one is going to take this away from me, she thought, and closed her eyes, locked in the embrace of the man she loved.
Dacre had seen Romy go into the on-call room with Blue Allende and his gut had twisted with rage. He knew the police were looking for him but they had old photos of him, photos before he’d shaved his head and grown a thick beard, adding piercings, a neck tattoo, and thick spectacles. He’d bulked up too; it made the killings easier if they couldn’t match his physical strength.
Gaius Eames had arranged the new identity so he could apply for the orderly job at Rainier Hope. Dacre still didn’t trust the man; he wondered why he hated his half-brother so much when Gaius seemed to have unlimited resources. Maybe Gaius wanted Romy too, and if so, Dacre wouldn’t stand for that. Romy was his. She hadn’t even recognized him the time she’d asked him direct questions; she was friendly and polite, joking around with the patients and with him. He’d changed his voice too, whiskey and cigarettes lowering his register. No one, not even his damn parents, would recognize Dacre Mortimer, preppy Harvard grad, now.
Gaius Eames had asked of him one favor. “Don’t kill your ex-wife yet,” he’d said. “I want Blue to really fall for her so when she dies, he’ll be destroyed.”
Dacre gritted his teeth. “The thought of his hands on her …”
Gaius had smiled. “Think of the ways you could punish her, Mortimer. Those girls you killed had it easy compared to what you’re going to do to the lovely Romy.”
Dacre had liked the sound of that, so he’d agreed. Working at the hospital was another one of Gaius’s ideas as was the small studio apartment close to the hospital.
Now, as he heard the door of the on-call room click closed, he knew that Allende had his hands all over his Romy and it made him rage. Dacre checked his watch—his shift was over in five minutes. He paused, entertaining the fantasy of storming into the on-call room and butchering his ex-wife and her lover. Instead, he finished up his shift and left the hospital. His body tingled with rage and the need to kill. Gaius had told him his little game of killing women with Romy’s initials had been found out—good, it meant she was scared.
Dacre went home, ate a sparse meal of microwave hot dogs, and sucked down a couple of beers. He watched TV mindlessly for a few hours, then, just after midnight, headed out into the city. He was careful always to wear black so that the blood of his victims would not show up on his clothes and when he returned home, he would seal those clothes into a sack and burn them in the furnace at work.
Tonight, he looked for anyone who resembled Romy. He found her working at a bar downtown, followed her when she closed up for the night, took her at the end of an alleyway, and dragged her into the darkness. She was beautiful, with long, dark, wavy hair, doe-eyed, petite. He overpowered her easily and as the knife sank deep into her flesh, Dacre felt the usual release. Staring at the girl unseeing, all he thought of was how it would feel to kill Romy like this, his blade slicing through her tender flesh, severing arteries, destroying her vital organs. This girl died too quickly, his knife cutting through her abdominal aorta clumsily, though he usually liked to draw it out.
He lowered her to the ground as she struggled for life, ripping her shirt open, and finishing her with a few brutal stabs. The girl, her eyes wide with terror and agony, made a gurgling sound as blood filled her throat, then went still. Dacre stood, breathing heavily, staring down at her, only seeing Romy’s face on this girl’s brutalized body.
Dacre sucked in lungfuls of air, smelling the rust-and-salt smell of his victim’s blood, then, leaving her for others to find, walked slowly back home and feel into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Part Three
Chapter 12
Stuart Eames looked up as his soon-to-be-ex-wife approached the table. He stood, dutifully kissing her on the cheek, and pulled out her chair for her. Hilary Eames smiled and sat down.
“Always the gentleman.”
Stuart tried not to roll his eyes. Hilary was obviously in one of her seductive moods. “You look well, Hilary.”
She smiled. “You too. Magda Sasse is obviously looking after you … and I hear her daughter is looking after the Italian, too.”
Stuart sighed. “His name is Blue as you well know, Hilary, and yes, he and Romy are seeing each other.”
“Keeping it in the family.”
He grimaced in disgust. “I didn’t come here to talk about Blue’s love life, Hilary. We agreed to meet to finalize the divorce, so shall we stick to that topic?”
Hilary smirked. Stuart studied her. Hilary had once been considered a beautiful woman, but now she wa
s stick-thin, gaunt, brittle. Her dark hair, once her crowning glory, was now coiffed to hide the hairpieces she used to create the illusion of lustrousness, her blue eyes ringed with kohl, hard lines. Her full lips—enhanced by fillers—made her look slightly ridiculous. Her cheekbones were jutting out and even the amount of make-up she wore couldn’t conceal the greyness of her skin, the pinched look from denying herself food.
Being rich and thin was the overriding reason Hilary lived—that and to cause misery to those she felt envious of. Stuart wondered how he could ever have loved this woman; she was Magda’s antithesis.
“So, you dropping your claim to the financial settlement has me wondering—what are you up to, Hilary?”
Hilary hid a smile behind her water glass. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“Who is he? I know there must be a ‘he’ because otherwise there isn’t a chance in hell you’d relinquish my money unless you had someone else lined up.”
“You think so little of me?”
Stuart stayed silent rather than lie. Hilary shrugged. “Not that it’s any of your business, Stuart, but Giles is …”
“Giles?” Suddenly Stuart started to laugh. “You mean Giles St. Clement? Lord Giles St. Clement? Oh, Hilly, you really are so transparent.”
Hilary’s face contorted in anger. “If you must know, Giles and I are in love, and as soon as the divorce comes through, we are to be married.”
“And you’re moving to London? I can see it now. High tea with the prime minister as you peddle your faux-manitarian causes. Blow jobs abound and suddenly, Lady St. Clement, you’re receiving titles of your own. Honorary damehoods, perhaps?”
Stuart hadn’t meant to be so cutting—it wasn’t his style, and this meeting was, after all, to make sure Hilary did sign the divorce papers—and now he realized he had gone too far. Hilary’s eyes glittered with spite.
“What’s it to you who I marry, or who I ‘blow,’ as you so crudely put it? This is what I want, Stuart, just like your pathetic little hippie is who you want. Aren’t you glad I’ll be out of your life for good?”
Stuart shrugged. “Sure … I just hope Giles knows what he’s let himself in for.”
“Fuck you, Stuart. I never loved you; I was stupid to think I did.”
Stuart’s smile faded. “You think I don’t know that? And you made Bianca’s life a misery too.”
“She spawned your precious lovechild, the saint-like Blue. If you only knew, Stuart, about your bastard son.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Stuart was irked now but Hilary just smiled.
“You have two sons, Stuart. Isn’t it about time you concentrated on your firstborn? Gaius tells me he feels shut out of your new family.”
“That’s not even close to true, Hilary. Gaius just tells you what you want to hear, because it suits him to feel like the redheaded stepchild. Magda has made great efforts to include him. Far more efforts than you made with Blue.”
“You’re just surrounded by saint-like people, aren’t you?”
Stuart gritted his teeth. This was more like the Hilary he knew—spiteful, resentful, vindictive. “I really think we should stick to signing these papers. Do you want lunch, Hilary?”
She shook her head, dismissive. “I don’t have time.” She took the papers from him and scrawled her signature where he indicated. Stuart put the signed papers back in his jacket pocket.
“Thank you. I wish you well, Hilary.”
Hilary smiled at him and for a brief second, Stuart could see the beautiful woman she had once been. Then the malice crept back in her face. “Tell your girlfriend’s daughter to watch out for Blue … he isn’t what he says he is.”
Hilary’s last words were still bugging Stuart as he drove back to Magda’s home. They had decided that he would move in with her after the wedding, selling his massive condo. “I don’t need it,” he’d told her, “this is home to me now.”
Magda saw the preoccupation on his face and Stuart told her what Hilary had said. Magda shrugged it off. “She’s just trying to upset you. Blue is a good man; we all know that.”
Stuart sighed. “I know. I just don’t trust Hilary not to go screw things up for him. She loathed Bianca, and barely even spoke to Blue —until, get this, until he was a young teenager and started to blossom into his looks. Then she would show him off like a trophy. Blue isn’t like Gaius. He hated being paraded around like a prize. As soon as he was eighteen, he left home, just to get away from her. I confess, I helped him move out.” He sat and rubbed his face, but then smiled at Magda. “But all that aside, she signed the papers.”
Magda grinned and sat down on his knees. “You’re a free man?”
“I’m a free man … so, officially, Magdalena Helen Sasse … would you do me the great honor of marrying me?”
Magda laughed, and nodded. “I will, Stuart Gregory Eames. I really will … and if you’ll have me, on Christmas Day.”
Stuart grinned, knowing the arrangements were almost in place for their wedding. He kissed her tenderly, gazing up into her navy-blue eyes. “I can’t wait, my darling. I can’t wait.”
Romy was concentrating so hard on the practice dummy she was performing a surgery on that she didn’t see Mac sidle into the room until he poked her side and made her jump. “Dude! You just killed my patient.”
Mac laughed. “Nah, she was a goner anyway. So …”
Romy hid a grin. “Yes?”
“You and Doc Allende?”
Romy flushed, but smiled. “Pretty much.”
“How long?”
“A couple of months.”
“Rom?” She looked up to see his smile. “Is it love?”
She nodded, flushing again. “It is. I’m crazy about him.”
“Good. You get your man, girl. It’s not like it’s a huge surprise to anyone.”
Romy looked at him sharply. “What?”
Mac held his hands up. “Slow your roll. I didn’t tell anyone. But the chemistry between the two of you speaks for itself.”
He watched her for a few minutes as she worked. “Rom? Did you hear? More murders.”
Romy’s hand slipped and she cussed, ripping off her gloves to see the small gash in the top of her finger. Mac helped her to clean it up. “Girl, why were you wearing gloves to operate on a dummy?”
“Habit,” she said, “ouch.”
“Sorry. Look, it just needs cleaning and a stitch is all. No biggie. Want me to do it?”
“Please.”
Mac studied her face as he helped her. “I know you think these killings are your fault. They’re not, babe. They are the work of a very sick, very bad man. Do you know how many times I thank God that he didn’t kill you that day? And I didn’t even know you back then. You’re a survivor, Romy.”
“But what does that mean when innocent women are being killed because of me?”
“It’s not because of you!” Mac said angrily. “God, I could kill Dacre Mortimer with my bare hands. Have the police told you anything about their search?”
Romy shook her head. “He could be anywhere, Mac.”
“Except here. We have his picture up at every entrance, all the security team has been advised to look out, all the reception staff.”
“I know, and I’m grateful. Thanks, Mac.”
He finished treating her finger. “You deserve happy, Romy. We can all see that you and Blue make each other happy. Live that, not the past.”
Romy hugged her friend. “Thanks, Mac.”
Romy went to find Blue afterward, eager to see him and kiss him but as she approached his office door, she could hear him arguing. “No … no way. I do not want to see you or talk to you. Why can’t you get that into your head?”
Romy stopped, listening but she couldn’t hear anyone replying. It must be a phone call. Feeling guilty, she hovered just outside the door. She heard him sigh. “Look, I don’t know why you’re bringing this up now. Perhaps you heard I’m in love with someone else? I thought so. Ke
ep your less-than-subtle threats and go fuck yourself.” She heard him slam the phone down and mutter to himself. Romy waited a beat then knocked at his door.
Blue looked up and for a second, his face was stormy, dark, beautiful—and terrifying. When he realized who it was, the storm cleared and he grinned at her. “Why are you knocking, baby? Come here.”
Romy went into his arms and he kissed her tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers. “God, I love you, woman.”
Romy chuckled. “Right back at you. I just came to see the schedule of surgeries—and to kiss your face off, of course.
“Of course.” He pulled her onto his lap and reached for the schedule. “Light, today, unless we get any emergencies.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “After the lap, you could duck out and go Christmas shopping if you want. I’ll cover.”
“Nah. That’s what Amazon.com is for.” Romy leaned her cheek against his and closed her eyes. She was so curious as to who he had been talking to, but couldn’t bring herself to ask. “I did some serious shopping at lunch. Speaking of which … I have no idea what to get you.”
“All I need is you, baby.” Blue kissed her. “If I have you, I have everything.”
Romy grinned. “Mushy. Okay, so I’ll ask your dad.”
“Like he’ll know. Honestly, Romy, I don’t need anything.” He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “How about this? Instead of exchanging gifts, we go away together after Christmas.”
Romy smiled. “Is this you trying to get me out of Seattle again?”
“A little,” Blue admitted with a wry smile. “But also, I keep dreaming of us in a rustic Italian villa, making love in the olive groves. My fantasy is you in a summer dress, no underwear, and me fucking you against a cypress tree, my cock buried deep in your silky cunt, my fingers stroking your clit, my tongue in your mouth …”
Romy, turned on, groaned. “God, Blue …”
Grinning wickedly, he snaked his hand into her top, pulling it down over one breast, sliding the lacy cup of her bra down and taking her nipple into his mouth. His other hand slid slowly up her thigh, under her skirt, caressing her through her increasingly damp panties, then slipping underneath to stroke her clit. “I’ll fuck you so hard that the whole of Tuscany will hear you come, beautiful girl.”
The Naughty One: A Doctor’s Christmas Romance (Season of Desire Book 2) Page 8
