Heist

by Beckett Riley

  I plugged my cock into her pussy and her entire body shook while she cried out in ecstasy, but Dagen just held her in place while I continued to pump. I felt the familiar contractions around my dick followed by warm wetness I knew was not coming from the showerhead. Fuck yes. This would definitely be the hottest (and wettest) episode of Lockup. We finally got around to showering, and despite the dirty deed we had just done, Dagen and I gently washed Josie’s entire, perfect porcelain-fucking-skin body... with no squabbling. She lathered up our cocks, making sure to tell us she couldn’t tell which one was bigger, bless her heart.

  But mine was still bigger.

  N

  Dagen

  After our amazing fuck fest in the shower, we went to the kitchen, and Ronan made us breakfast. Josie was wearing one of our T-shirts, looking like a fucking goddess, but it was almost midday, and time was running out. We needed to face reality and plan for Josie’s return and our road trip to Florida. Ronan looked miserable when he was searching for bus schedules she could give Deputy Cumstain. I tried not to think about the fact that she would be with him tonight instead of us. I tried, but I failed and my disappointment must’ve shown because she looked at me like she knew what was going through my mind. The only comforting thing about all this was that she looked as sad as we did.

  “Four forty-five bus gets there at six pm,” said Ronan, tossing his phone on the table, pissed off.

  Josie grabbed her phone and called him. I’ve never wanted to murder someone as much as I did the moment I heard his stupid fucking voice.

  “I’ll be there at five-thirty,” he replied.

  Motherfucker. He should be there at four-fucking thirty for a girl like her.

  We spent our last few hours together talking, laughing, and fucking. Ronan fixed the ripped sleeve of her dress, admitting he took a sewing class in prison so I now have valuable information to blackmail him with. It was almost four o’clock before we knew it and Josie needed to be on that four forty-five bus. She put her dress back, fuck; she looked even more beautiful than she did last night. We helped tie the laces to her hot librarian heels. I’ll never forget those fucking shoes. We climbed into the SUV with Ronan in the driver seat and Josie and me in the backseat.

  “Just do it, bitch,” I told him when he complained about looking like an Uber driver.

  We didn’t talk much during the drive to the station. When we arrived, Ronan shut the engine off and got out to buy her ticket while she and I sat there for a minute, in silence.

  I grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss on the back of it, knowing it would be the last time. She climbed onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck before she kissed me. We made out softly, like fucking newlyweds who knew they had the rest of their lives to spend together. Only, we didn’t. Ronan tapped on the window, and she pulled away and scooted over to open the door, looking at me.

  “Goodbye, Dagen.”

  “Goodbye, Josie.”

  I watched Ronan cup her face and look at her like he fucking loved her before he kissed her the same way I did.

  “I’m sorry,” I heard him say to her.

  “I’m not,” she replied.

  I got out of the car when she walked away and stood next to Ronan. Seeing her board the bus broke my heart. I’m talking Nora Roberts, I’ll-never-get-over-this-shit style heartbreak.

  Chapter Seven

  Josie (Eighteen months later)

  I was in the bookstore’s backroom, almost done after a week of the dreaded inventory most people despise. I liked it though, there was something therapeutic about sorting through books. The new ones always smelled good and the old ones smelled even better. I couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else, but I certainly didn’t feel this way when I was struggling to keep the shop open. That all changed about a year ago when I was contacted by a lawyer with good news; my dad had an unclaimed insurance policy, so I was able to bring my rent up to date. Funny how things work themselves out sometimes. I heard the bell go off and walked out to greet my customer.

  “Hey, Josie,” said a cheerful Alan.

  It was his day off, so he wasn’t in uniform. He was wearing khakis and sneakers with a blue polo shirt.

  “Oh hi, Alan. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Caroline’s getting her nails done a few doors down, so I thought I’d drop in and see how you’re doing?”

  I had broken things off shortly after that night. He had been heartbroken and tried using every trick in the book to get me back, but the thought of ending up with someone like him, frankly depressed the shit out of me. There was nothing wrong with him, he was just wrong for me. And, I had a type... Well, technically two.

  Alan had given up after about two months and moved on with Caroline, the kindergarten teacher. They had recently gotten engaged. Good for him. “I’m doing great, just about done with the inventory. So, big plans with Caroline tonight?”

  “Yeah, we’re going to the movies and then the Speckled Hen,” he smiled, looking genuinely happy.

  “That sounds like fun!” No, it didn’t.

  “Yeah, oh hey, you remember that robbery across the street a while back? Well, apparently the feds finally got a lead and are looking for two lowlife brothers who may have robbed as many as four other banks. Get this, their names are Ronan and Dagen McManus. What the fuck kind of names are those?”

  It’s ten, Deputy Cumstain. Ten banks. “They’re Norse names, you know, like Viking gods,” I replied, trying not to show too much emotion.

  Alan chuckled. “Of course you’d know. You’ve probably read more than a few Viking stories.”

  Oh, I’ve done more than just read about them. “Have they caught them?”

  “No, they disappeared. Maybe one day they’ll pop up somewhere, but whatever. Banks are all insured for stuff like that.”

  I smiled politely, just wishing he’d get the fuck out so I could throw myself a pity party. “Well, I need to get back to it,” I said motioning to the backroom. “It was great seeing you, Alan. You look really happy. Please say hi to Caroline for me.” That girl despised me with a passion because of my history with Alan, but I liked her, and I knew they were perfect for each other.

  “Yeah, I will. Thanks.” He smiled and turned to walk out before stopping himself. “You, you don’t…” He cleared his throat before continuing. “You don’t look...happy. I thought for the longest time that it was me, something I did, and I know you always told me it wasn’t, but I thought it was. Now I realize that it is you, you’re...just unhappy. I hope that changes for you one day, Josie. I really do.”

  I held back my tears, but the moment Alan left the bookstore; I started crying. I knew I needed to move on, but it wasn’t easy. And not knowing where they were or what they were doing was unbearable. I almost wished they had been caught so I would at least know their location, and I could visit them and sneak in a little lock pick inside a bible like in Shawshank.

  I laughed at my brilliant idea and wiped away my tears before going to the back to finish up. A handful of customers and a few hours later, I was finally on the last box. Good thing too, because it was closing time. I recorded the last of the books into my laptop when I saw a small parcel in the corner that the delivery guys must’ve pushed to the back.

  “Fuck.” I crawled over to it and sat on the floor, noticing it didn’t come from the wholesaler but someone in Savanna, Georgia. I took the box cutter and opened it. When I removed the tissue paper, I noticed something dark brown and old. My heart started pounding so hard, I could hear the blood pumping in my ears.

  I took out the set of books. Holy fucking shit. Pride and Prejudice, London 1811. Sense and Sensibility, London 1817. They were all there, all first editions. A small fortune sitting in a dark corner for weeks. I grabbed the box and turned it inside out, trying to find who sent it. I typed in the return address on my laptop, shaking so bad I k
ept hitting the wrong key until I finally got it right. An old estate in Savanna popped up, but it was abandoned years ago. There was nothing or no one living there according to what I found.

  I checked multiple sites, and they all stated the same; dilapidated and abandoned. I went through each book, carefully shuffling each priceless page until I got to Northanger Abbey and saw it. I took a deep breath to calm myself down and carefully removed it from between the pages. I held it up and just stared at the pre-addressed envelope from the lawyer’s office. The same lawyer from last year. Of course. It all made sense now.

  I unsealed it and pulled out a folded piece of paper with a plane ticket tucked in between. Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport, Rome, Italy. One way. It had my name on it and was dated for...tomorrow. The piece of paper had coordinates on it.

  When I typed the numbers in, and the results pulled up, I just sobbed uncontrollably. I looked at the time — nine o’clock. Shit, if I went, I would need to be at the airport by four in the morning and it takes almost an hour to drive there. That’s six hours to decide whether or not to abandon everything I’ve worked so hard for, my bookstore, my apartment, my life.

  It was the only life I’ve ever known. I was terrified.

  I stepped out of the backroom with the plane ticket and coordinates in my hand contemplating if I’d be able to part with my beloved books when I walked past the spirituality aisle, and the stench hit me.

  “Hey, Karen?”

  “Oh, hi Josie! I know you’re closed b—”

  “Get the fuck out.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ronan (Venice, Italy)

  Funny thing how sometimes you never really know what your dream in life is until you meet someone special and realize your dream is to make theirs come true. That’s exactly how I felt when Josie revealed hers. When Dagen and I exchanged looks that morning, I knew he felt the same way. We made it to Florida a few days after leaving her at the bus station, and about two weeks into early retirement, we were ready to blow our fucking brains out. It wasn’t the retirement part; it was the not having Josie part that made it unbearable.

  I can’t speak for Dagen, but I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my entire life.

  When I brought up the idea of maybe making a change of plans, he agreed almost right away. So, for the first time in our lives, we sought to do something the right way and hired an international business lawyer to help us with the legal framework of opening a business in a country we’ve only fucking read about. That was after establishing fake names, obviously.

  Can you imagine doing all this just to be caught and expedited back home? Fuck that.

  Fast forward a year, and we had everything we needed. We left the States, probably forever, and came to Italy. We met a realtor and after a few months, we found the perfect place for Josie’s Books… and Bar. Fuck knows people don’t come to Venice to buy books, so we needed something we could actually make money off. Get those fuckers drunk first and then get them to buy a book.

  Now, getting said fuckers here was also a challenge because of the canals, so we struck a deal with some gondola boys to bring us fat tourists with fatter wallets once this place was up and running. It was all going to be worth it though, and we just received notification from our contact in Rome that our sweet, beautiful Josie landed a day ago and was en route to Venice right now. Fuck, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her smile, her gorgeous fucking eyes, her laugh, her sense of humor, and yes, her pussy.

  I loved every single part of her.

  N

  Dagen

  We bought this old villa after some dead guy’s money-grubbing, meth-head kid was desperate for cash, so we made a lowball offer, and fuck me, we got it, as is. That asshole didn’t even bother to take down the chandeliers and frescoes or silk wall coverings on the property. We figured that shit must be worth a fortune, and lo-and-behold it fucking was when we had it appraised. God bless you, meth head. Josie’s gonna flip out when she sees this place.

  It needed a lot of work, but I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my life. The first thing we did was fix up the master bedroom. We figured we’d be spending a lot of time there, Lockup style, so that was priority fuckin’ one.

  We filled the giant walk-in closet with the hottest librarian dresses and Oxford shoes we could find. Overkill? Probably, but we wanted her to be happy.

  Her happiness was my happiness.

  Speaking of which, the gondola kid should be here to deliver our hot librarian soon. My cock and I have dreamed of this moment for eighteen fucking months. I needed my Josie. Come hell or high water, we were never letting her go.

  We were working on the terrace in the back when we heard a voice coming from the lobby on the canal side.

  “Ciao, bella!”

  Ronan and I looked at each other and stood frozen. I had butterflies in my stomach. Yes, a grown-ass, former bank robbing, bomb detonating, convicted felon with butter-fucking-flies in his stomach. Nora Roberts couldn’t make this shit up. When we heard the familiar sound of Oxfords clacking on the floor, we rushed to meet the love of our lives.

  N

  Josie

  I entered the gorgeous palazzo lobby with the only thing I brought with me: a backpack carrying seven of Jane Austen’s first editions. I wasn’t sure what exactly this place was when I saw a beautiful black wood carved sign leaning against a wall near the staircase. “Josie’s Books & Bar.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I ran my fingertips over the large sign. It was a work of art. This entire place was a work of art. In my peripheral vision, I saw two figures coming in from a terrace and turned to look. I let out a sob, watching my two loves walk right up to me.

  Epilogue

  Josie (One year later)

  Getting the book bar ready for business took nearly six months of hard work, but it paid off, and with the gondola boys bringing us daily fresh meat, we were well on our way to getting a return. But today was Sunday. Our favorite day. Most of everything is closed on Sundays in Venice, so we only open the bookshop and bar until three pm. The rest of the day is ours to do whatever we want, which is mostly talking, drinking wine, and fucking. Fuck yes.

  I sank my hips onto Dagen, his dick filling me completely. I moaned softly and leaned over. “Whose cock is this?” I whispered into his ear before raising my hips just enough so his tip was still inside of me and slapped back down hard.

  “Oh fuck! It’s yours, baby. This is your fucking cock,” he moaned, trying his best to keep his dick from exploding inside my pussy.

  “Yes. It. Fucking. Is,” I said with every wet slap. Unable to wait his turn, I heard Ronan walk in from the terrace and say something deliciously crude before he stripped down to nothing.

  God, their bodies were fucking outrageous. He crawled into bed next to me and leaned over, crushing his mouth against mine while I kept riding Dagen. I picked up the pace and Ronan grabbed one of my tits, sucking on it until I felt Dagen’s dick pulsating, followed by three shots of liquid sunshine hitting my cervix.

  Yes, both my boys were strong shooters.

  Dagen was barely getting over his orgasm when Ronan pulled me off him and climbed over me, shoving his dick into me. Oh, my fucking god. I was so wet it just slid right in. A spent Dagen watched mesmerized as I took his brother’s cock and intertwined his fingers with mine so we were holding hands while Ronan kept thrusting relentlessly.

  He got on his knees and put his forearms under my thighs, raising my hips off the bed while Dagen leaned over my chest to suck and tug on my nipple. The warmth inside me bubbled up until I burst and came. My whole body shook while Ronan pushed through it and both of them had proud smiles on their faces when my pussy sounds filled the room.

  They loved that.

  Ronan came almost immediately after and grunted as he gave me one last pump. And my shots of sunshine? Ther
e they were; one, two, three...four? Holy shit.

  “Fuck, Josie.” He pulled out his soaking-wet cock and held my trembling knees apart, waiting for it. Dagen, still holding my hand, kissed it before he sat up to look. Watching their cum slowly spill out of me drove them nuts. They called it the world’s greatest cubby hole.

  When I was done, they both lay next to me on their respective sides of the bed. Ronan grabbed my hand and kissed it just like Dagen did a minute ago.

  Some days, we fucked like porn stars, other days we made love like the soulmates we were, but no matter what, they always made sure to tell me they love me afterward. Always.

  I raised my head and leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Ronan’s lips and then Dagen’s. God, I loved my boys. My sweet, funny, caring, hot-as-fuck, bank robbing, convicted felons.

  We usually kept the terrace doors open at night during cooler months, so we lay in our bed with our legs tangled into a beautiful, messy vine, and held hands while we listened to the singing gondoliers roaming on the canals.

  La Fine.

  About the Author

  Born somewhere in the United States, Beckett now resides somewhere in the United States where she writes raunchy stories. Hey, a girl’s gotta have some secrets.

  Website: https://beckettriley.wixsite.com/mysite

  FB: https://m.facebook.com/Beckett-Riley-113264527027893/

  beckettwriter@gmail.coms