Dr. Orgasm (A Holiday Romance Collection Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  Luna hugged her brother from behind.

  “Hello and goodbye, bro. I have to scoot.”

  “Hello and goodbye. Loser.”

  “Dillhole.” Luna grinned at him and waved at Scarlett and Inca before she left the teahouse.

  Olly sipped his coffee. Tommaso pushed the paper at him.

  “You see this?”

  Olly glanced at it. “Same as most people round here. Most local people anyways,” he added, a ribbon of petulance creeping into his tone. Inca shot him a warning glance. Tommaso smirked, shaking his head.

  “All right, then.” He got up to go. “Inca, I’ll see you later?”

  “Yes. I’ll see you later. Eight? My place?”

  Tommaso nodded, smiling, then said his goodbyes. Olly watched him walk out, then turned back to Inca.

  She glared at him. “What’s your problem with Tommaso?”

  “Nothing. Just don’t like rich guys for whom nothing is a problem. Including laying claim to the people I love.”

  Inca was annoyed now. “If I remember rightly, you didn’t want this person anymore. And I’m not a possession to be laid claim to.”

  She stomped out into the kitchen, annoyed. Taking a deep breath, she opened the back door and went outside for some air.

  He watched her from across the street, well-hidden back amongst the trees. God, she was so beautiful with that long dark hair caught up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck and her curves in that T-shirt and jeans. The swell of her breasts, the strip of golden skin between her T-shirt and her jeans …

  He closed his eyes. He needed to kill again. The thought of finally killing Inca was becoming all he could think about. His cock got hard just thinking about his knife cutting into her flesh, hearing her shocked, terrified gasp of agony, seeing the ruby red blood spill out of her.

  But once she was dead, that was it. The end. So he knew he had to keep his distance until the perfect moment. He knew how to sate his bloodlust on other women. But he liked the idea that Inca knew he was coming for her and that she was his ultimate goal, the suffering of his other victims nothing compared to what he would make her endure.

  He disappeared into the trees and found his car, driving into the city. He would sit for hours waiting for the perfect girl, then he would follow her. He thought about the other girls he had killed. The singer had been a mistake, a risk. What was her name … what was her name? Ita. She was the only one who could lead the police to him.

  He had been there watching when she sang at Carmel’s that day before she died. He had watched her slap that stupid, drunken fucker who tried to feel her breasts. Spirit. She had that.

  Ita.

  He remembered the look in her eyes when she realized it was really happening, her long dark hair sticking to her face with perspiration. Her fear. Oh, and she'd looked down on him, dismissed him, laughed at him. Told him to get out, disdainfully. Until she could not speak, her mouth moving aimlessly, loosely, open and shut, dying, losing control. No more laughing.

  Or the girl with the spider’s web tattoo on her belly. Sexy. He'd come across her in a deli on Fifth. She had been arguing with the insolent-looking cashier. He'd helped her out. Followed her home. Arranged to bump into her later. She'd been grateful and invited him in for a drink, looking at him with interest. So easy. An hour later, she had been slumped in her chair, looking at him again, this time in confusion as he removed her shirt. He knew she thought he was going to rape her, and looked down at her in disgust.

  Whore.

  He had told her then exactly what he was going to do to her, that she wasn't worthy and he wouldn't sully himself on her. She tried to move or scream as he raised the knife. Then he had seen resignation as the blade plunged into the center of the spider’s web again and again. So much blood. He liked the idea of Inca having that tattoo; he imagined her with it as he stabbed her to death. It made him hard.

  He perked up now when he spotted her. Indian. Gorgeous. She looked so much like Inca that his breath was almost taken away. Sweet face, warm smile. He followed her home almost laughing out loud when she drove back to Willowbrook—so close to Inca—and waited until after dark.

  After midnight, with no moon, the storms clouds painting the landscape black, the house was hushed. Footfalls, a whisper of movement …

  He stood over her, watching, the knife in his hand. He breathed deeply in through the nose, out through the mouth. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him, still mostly asleep, not really seeing him. He smiled, but said nothing. Her eyes closed for a moment and then opened again. She frowned, her face creasing with confusion.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  The question thrilled him, shocked him, delighted him. He stroked her face and smiled. “Yes.”

  And he drove the knife deep into her belly.

  Tommaso stroked her cheek. “You look unbelievable,” he said gently. Inca flushed with pleasure. Her dress was a dark gold, reflecting on her skin, her hair pulled over one shoulder. Tommaso’s eyes lingered on her mouth. “Inca, mio caro, how would you feel about making our relationship more official?” His lips were on her throat and Inca closed her eyes, letting all the tension of the past few days drain from her.

  They’d had a quiet dinner at a little place in the city, then Tommaso had driven her back to his mansion. “Raffaelo is away on business,” he told her, with a wicked grin. “We have the place to ourselves and I …,” he trailed his fingertips down her belly, “am going to fuck you in every room in this house, my darling Inca …”

  A moan escaped her as he took her in his arms now and she nodded. “Yes, Tommaso. We can talk about us.”

  “Good.” He pulled his tie from his neck and, grinning, wound it around her eyes. “Do you trust me, Inca?”

  She hesitated a little. “Should I?”

  Tommaso gave a throaty chuckle. “Absolutely not.”

  Inca laughed and felt him take her hand and lead her somewhere else. She felt a draft of cold air but said nothing as Tommaso began to strip her. She felt his lips on her skin, felt him take each nipple in turn into his mouth. She stroked his dark curls as his kiss touched her belly. Then his face was in her sex, his tongue lashing around her clit, his hands pushing her legs apart. His fingers gripped her hips tightly as his mouth found her and she caught her breath when his tongue plunged deep inside her.

  “You taste of honey,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through her. She felt him stand and kiss her mouth. “I want you to feel my cock inside you, Inca. Feel how much I want you.”

  He guided her hands to his cock now, thick and huge and hot as she stroked him. “It wants to be in your sweet cunt, Inca, always.”

  Jesus …

  She could feel herself becoming unbelievably wet as he continued to describe what he wanted to do to her, and by the time he laid her back on what felt like a table, she was desperate for him to be inside her. He teased her, sliding two fingers in and out of her before he took her almost violently, thrusting his engorged cock deep inside of her, harder and deeper each time until she was crying with pleasure. His thumb rubbed her clit and she came explosively, her body jerking and trembling, but Tommaso would not let her rest. He pulled her to the carpet and tugged the blindfold off, only to bind her hands behind her.

  “You like this, bella ragazza?”

  Breathless and excited, she nodded, and he gave a soft laugh. “Good. Now …” He rolled her onto her back, her bound hands pressing into the small of her back. She gazed up at him; his green eyes were intense, almost demonic against his swarthy skin and dark hair—God, he was divine. His body—hard and defined—covered hers.

  “You are mine, yes?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Tommaso. I am yours … oh …”

  He slid back inside her, gently this time, but as his thrusts became more forceful, the weight of his body pressing down on her, her shoulders burning from having her hands bound, Inca found she enjoyed the sweet pain of it.

  Tommaso had a satisfied loo
k in his eyes—almost victorious. “You like the pain?”

  Astonishing herself, she nodded. “From you, yes,” she whispered, and he chuckled.

  “Maybe another time we can explore that further …”

  “Maybe.”

  He drove her to another shattering orgasm and she clung to him as his lips found hers. He smoothed her damp hair away from her face and gazed down at her. “Ti amo, Inca Sardee. Ti amo.”

  Inca’s eyes filled with tears at the depth of passion in his voice and in that moment her heart swelled and she kissed him fiercely. “I love you too, Tommaso.”

  Much, much later, she fell asleep in his arms and didn’t wake when he slid from the bed. For a few minutes, he watched her sleep, her dark hair spread on his pillow, watching her deep, regular breathing, her skin glowing in the low light of the room.

  Tommaso tugged his pants on and wandered down to the kitchen. Lately he had been plagued by insomnia and nothing, it seemed, not even exhausting himself fucking Inca, could help him.

  Tommaso Winter knew darkness. It ate at him constantly and, despite his happiness with the beautiful woman in his bed, he found himself sinking back into the blue funk he knew so well. Only Raff knew how to drag him out of it; only Raff knew the depths of it. He called his brother now.

  Raffaelo was in Rome, checking on his favorite and original club. Tommaso glanced at the clock—Rome was nine hours ahead of Seattle, which made it eleven a.m. He knew Raff would be parked in his favorite café right now.

  “Tommaso.”

  “Hey.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Inca’s here.”

  There was a silence. “What’s going on, brother?”

  “I told her I loved her.”

  Another long pause. “Oh, damn.”

  “Yeah.”

  Raffaelo sighed. “Look, don’t freak out. Did she say it back?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know …”

  “You’re freaking.”

  “I’m not. Yet. I need you to talk me down. Stop me from ruining this.”

  Raffaelo knew his brother well. Through the damage their father had inflicted on both of them when they were young and the loss of their mother, Raffaelo had been the one to hold his brother up. And ever since then, every time Tommaso went through any heightened emotion, Raff was his rock. His anchor.

  They both knew what Tomaso was capable of when he felt insecure. Tommaso closed his eyes now. “I don’t want to hurt her, Raff.”

  “You won’t. Listen to me. So, you’ve said it. Did you mean it?”

  Tommaso nodded to himself. “I did. I do. She is everything.”

  He heard his brother give a hiss of frustration. “Tommaso, get yourself together. You barely know her. You’re projecting.”

  “No. No. It’s really not like that.”

  But he knew Raff didn’t believe him. He heard his brother curse softly. “I’m coming back.”

  “No, no. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have called you. You know me.”

  “Exactly. Let me come home and help you. There’s no reason, if you really love her, that this time can’t be different.”

  Tommaso went back to the bedroom after ending the call and saw that Inca was now lying on her back, the sheet tangled around her hips. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, the soft curve of her belly as she slept. He lay down beside her and stroked her soft skin, tracing a line between her breasts down to her navel.

  She murmured in her sleep and turned towards him, half opening her eyes. “I love you, Tommaso,” she whispered before her eyes closed again and Tommaso was glad she was asleep again quickly, so that she would not see his tears.

  The news broke the next morning and the entire town was horrified. Jasmine Khan had been one of their own, a well-loved girl found murdered in her own apartment.

  Inca felt sick. Jasmine had helped out at the Sakura more than once. Inca had been glad to help her out as she studied for her college degree. Jasmine had only been seventeen, sweet, intelligent … and now this.

  Olly looked shattered when he came into the Sakura that morning. The whole town was buzzing with police.

  Inca hugged her friend. “Oh, Olly.”

  He relaxed into her embrace. “It’s bad, Inks. Really bad.”

  Nancy’s face was creased with worry as she looked between the two. “Come sit down, Olly, before you fall down.”

  Inca didn’t want to ask the question, but Olly must have seen it in her eyes. “Yeah, sweetheart. Your name was carved into this victim too.”

  Inca’s hands clenched into fists and her temper broke through. “Then why doesn’t he come after me? Why kill an innocent woman? All those girls? Just kill me!’

  Olly took her shoulders and his face looked fierce. “I never want to hear you say that again, Inca Sardee. You are not to blame for this. Don’t ever, ever say that to me again.”

  He tried to smile to soften his words. Tyler came in then, accompanied by Tommaso, who was talking at him rather than to him. Tommaso’s face was serious, and he appeared to be pressing his point with some fervor. Tyler looked rather taken aback.

  “Hey.” Inca smiled at them both, hoping to break the tension. Tyler smiled back rather wanly. Tommaso kissed her cheek.

  “Bella,” he said warmly and sat down, nodding to Olly, patting his shoulder. “Chief. Guess you’ve had a rough morning.”

  Olly nodded. “You have no idea.”

  Inca offered Tommaso some coffee.

  “No, thanks. Look—”Tommaso began, but Tyler shook his head.

  “Tommaso, this can wait.”

  Tommaso frowned. “Forgive me, Tyler, but I don’t think it can. Nancy?” he called out, and Nancy poked her head out of the kitchen. “Nancy, would you join us, please?”

  Tyler sighed and sat down. Nancy looked confused but joined them, pulling out the chair next to her husband. He took her hand and squeezed it.

  “Thank you.”

  Tommaso was being oddly formal, Inca thought. She had no idea what was going on and waited for Tommaso to begin.

  “Tyler and I are concerned.” He held up his hand as Tyler started to object. “No, Tyler. I know you think I’m being overly cautious. But the fact is, a young Indian woman was killed here last night. We all know what’s been going on in the city and I don’t think it’s hysterical to suggest that, for the meantime, we take precautions. Inca, please, don’t go anywhere alone, especially at night. Do you understand?”

  Nancy looked annoyed at his tone. “Yeah, Olly beat you to the punch, albeit less patronizingly.”

  Inca coughed, interrupting her. “I think what Nancy means is, thank you for your concern.” She tapped her mom’s arm as she was about to protest. “I’ll take care, I promise. I do think you can be over-cautious, but, hey, it’s not like we don’t have people around us all the time.”

  Tommaso shook his head. “Until you are in that apartment isolated from everyone.”

  Inca glanced at Tyler, but he nodded. “He’s right. I’d feel better if—”

  “You’ll move into the mansion,” Tommaso announced suddenly. “It’s the best solution.”

  Inca started to protest, but he held his hand up to stop her. “I won’t take any arguments. Do any of you feel that this isn’t the best arrangement? Do you realize how much security we have access to? No-one would get near Inca.”

  No one had any answer to that, and so Inca found herself agreeing. She would move in with the Winter twins until the killer was found. Tommaso left soon after, to arrange things, Olly following him to re-join the investigation across the street.

  Inca blinked at Tyler and Nancy, grinning slightly.

  “Well, I guess I have roommates. That happened fast.”

  Tyler reached out to pat her arm. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can always stay with us.”

  Nancy nodded, gesturing towards the door. “Tommaso was eager, wasn’t he? A bit too eager, if you ask me.” She gave Inca a meaningful look, a
nd Inca flushed.

  “He’s just being a good friend, Nance, and he’s right; he’s got security out the wazoo. And you two really don’t want me hanging around like a moody teenager, do you?”

  Tyler and Nancy laughed, and Nancy tugged gently on Inca’s ponytail. “Kiddo, you know you always have a home with us. Just watch that Tommaso doesn’t get the wrong idea.”

  Raffaelo was tired when he arrived back at the mansion, but he listened to what Tommaso told him in silence, then nodded. “You’re right. She should stay here.”

  Tommaso was vaguely surprised. “I thought you’d object.”

  “That you want to protect the woman you love? Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want anything to happen to Inca either.”

  “Thank you.” Tommaso turned to leave his brother’s room, knowing he was exhausted, but Raffaelo called him back.

  “Tommaso … I hope that, by Inca being here, you won’t …” He trailed off, but gave his brother a meaningful look. Tommaso cocked an eyebrow.

  “Won’t what?”

  Raffaelo sighed. “You know what I mean. Inca is an independent woman. She’s under our protection, yes, but we have no right to dictate what she does, or where she goes.”

  Tommaso’s smile faded. “You think I would try to control her.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  Tommaso looked annoyed now. “Inca is different.”

  “I know. I’m just saying … don’t get too entrenched with her that you can’t see anything else. She’ll feel suffocated.”

  “You think I’m suffocating?”

  “You can be. Even with your good heart, you know what has happened in the past. If Inca really means that much to you, give her space.”

  Tommaso gave his brother a tight nod and left the room. Raffaelo pulled off his shoes and lay back on the bed. It would be strange having Inca living here. Neither of the twins had ever lived with one of their girlfriends before, but then again, they’d always had each other.

  Raffaelo had known this was coming for a couple of years now, and he was glad. It was time. They were thirty-five— too old to be sharing with a sibling. They needed to move on, but he’d been reticent about how to broach the subject with Tommaso. Tommaso had always been the insecure one of the two— again, Raffaelo thought darkly, more fall-out from their father’s shitty parenting. But Raffaelo liked Inca and didn’t want her hurt because Tommaso hadn’t worked out all of his issues.