by Winters, KB
Rourke’s hand reached out and found mine again.
“We’re fine. We just need to find some shade and give our eyes time to adjust.”
We were hundreds of miles away from home with little money. No car. And no way home.
Great.
Chapter Eleven
Rourke
Not exactly how I planned to spend my next trip to Vegas, in a shitty fifty dollar a night hotel room while a sexy paramedic was showering in the tin can bathroom about eight feet away, but at least we were alive.
I knew I was alive because the strain on my pants grew tighter by the second. My cock swelled to life thinking about that hot water running down her curves, reddening that creamy white skin. It was a decent distraction, but soon enough the water turned off, and I turned my gaze away from the door before Margo thought she was trapped with a fucking creeper.
A few minutes later, Margo emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam wearing nothing but the faded off-white towel that barely covered any of the good parts, certainly not those shapely legs that looked to be about a mile long, despite her petite stature.
“You’re back,” she said.
“For a couple minutes,” I said with a half smile. I held up two thin plastic bags in answer. “I got what I could without spending all the money.” That fucking Milano prick only had about a hundred and fifty bucks in his wallet and that had to last us for at least another night.
Margo came closer and turned both bags upside down, letting the goodies fall to the center of the bed, plucking the orange and yellow dress from the pile. “You thought this would make a good on-the-run outfit?”
I shrugged and wiggled my eyebrows. “Actually, I thought it would make your tits look fantastic.” It had one of those little knot things right in front, and I knew it would push her creamy skin up and out. Right into my line of sight.
“And the hula girl shirt?” She held up the offending blue and orange monstrosity.
“It was all they had in my size on the clearance rack.” I wouldn’t have risked the fucking Milanos hunting us down for a credit card so I could buy some normal damn clothes.
“We’ll certainly look like Midwestern tourists in these clothes. There’s no bra in here, Rourke.”
“Didn’t know your size,” I told her but the truth was she had the kind of tits that a bra wouldn’t do justice to.
She glared at me, making it clear she didn’t believe me. But Margo wasn’t the type to make a big deal about something like that.
She tucked the dress under her arm, trying not to drop the towel, and asked, “Have you gotten in touch with your family yet?”
“Nope. I didn’t want to use the Milano phone just in case old Lorenzo has them tracked or bugged.”
Her eyes went wide. “Not a trusting sort, is he?”
“Doesn’t pay to be too trusting in this business.”
And considering what I knew about the old man’s sons, one he couldn’t control and the other he’d never prepared for his role, he’d be stupid to trust anyone.
“All four men in line to take his seat when he keels over are worthless bags of shit, so trusting the wrong people could be deadly.”
“You’re not going to call them from the hotel phone, are you?” She looked so cute, all worried after she took out two men to gain our freedom.
I held up a cheap phone. “Got a burner.”
Margo grinned her approval and went back to sifting through the pile on the bed while I set up the phone and made the call to Patrick.
“Rourke, my boy, glad to hear from you.” The sound of my uncle’s raspy voice was a welcome damn sound.
“Yeah. It’s good to still be breathing. How are things there?” I couldn’t even say how many days had passed since I was kidnapped, which meant I needed a serious update on the Connelly family business.
“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll let Eamon talk while I take care of some…other things. I knew you’d make it, Rourke. You are a fucking survivor. Never forget that.”
I wouldn’t. “Thanks, Patrick.” Even though he insisted we all call him by his given name, he’d been the best father three guys could ask for.
He passed the phone to his oldest son. “Rourke, thank fuck you’re alive. That prick Daniel hasn’t told us shit!” Eamon was all kinds of wound up, and I could imagine him pacing back and forth, running a hand through his hair.
“Last I saw him he was sprawled on the floor of some shitty warehouse.”
“Dead?” Eamon asked, hopeful.
“Nah, he had a run in with a Taser.” I turned back to Margo who let out a soft, feminine giggle at my words, but whatever I’d been about to say was stuck in my throat. Margo still had on that damn towel but she’d torn the price tag from the tiny pink panties and stepped into the leg holes, sliding them up her legs and over her hips, all without showing me a goddamn thing.
“Are you there, Rourke?” Eamon sounded annoyed which meant he might’ve called my names a few times.
“Yeah, sorry. Got distracted. I’m not alone.” I let the words sink in before I continued because I knew Eamon, and he loved to jump to conclusions.
“In this middle of all this bullshit you’re getting your fuckin’ dick wet?”
I smiled but held in the words on the tip of my tongue. “So you’re not getting laid on a regular basis right now, is that what you’re saying, cuz?”
He blew out a long breath and barked out a laugh. “Of course, I am, how the hell do you think I’m staying sane right now with Gio dead, about twenty grand handed over to Ralph for damage to the Wet Kitty and the big one, we’ve got fucking Lorenzo.”
I let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of shit to deal with.” And, not to pat my own back, but it was even more without me there to handle the business end of things.
“Yeah,” he said, obviously taking all the credit, “tell me about it. Where the hell are you anyway?”
“Vegas. With Margo Byrne who was also kidnapped. We escaped together about an hour ago.”
It was Eamon’s turn to let out a low whistle that was accompanied by a string of expletives that would have earned him a smack upside the head if Ma had been around. “Byrne’s baby girl? Fuck, man.”
“Yeah, and she tased Daniel and head-butted one of his fuckin’ guys while I took out the other one. We have about seventy-five bucks left and we’re in a fifty-dollar a night room off the strip. Oh, and we haven’t eaten in at least a few days.”
Eamon was quiet for a beat, trying to process the information, the most valuable I was sure was the news about Margo. “You know this means the Milanos aren’t just fucking with us, right, man?”
“As soon as I found out who she was, I knew.” I didn’t bother telling him that I’d only found out a few hours ago. “They’re trying to become the top dogs all by themselves,” I said, thinking out loud.
“Or some other asshole is funding this little scorched earth campaign of theirs.”
My adrenaline was pumping, the way it always did when Eamon and I were on the same wavelength.
“So we need to make it so that Lorenzo sees that whatever he’s getting paid, isn’t worth the price he’ll end up paying.”
“Exactly,” Eamon said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Look, I have some friends down there so let me reach out to them, and I’ll get back to you. This number?”
“Yeah, it’s a burner. I’ll keep it on, charged and close.”
“Talk soon.”
The call ended and I looked up to find Margo looking at me expectantly. “Well?”
I sucked in a deep breath and told her what she needed to know. “So now, we wait until Eamon calls back. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“In here? The TV doesn’t even work. I’m telling you right now I can’t sit inside another silent room for hours on end.” She had that look of restlessness about her that I knew well. Understood even better.
“I can think of a few things we could do,” I told her, letting the
desire drip from my voice.
Her eyes were wide and her mouth curved into a sultry smile. “So fast? No thanks.”
I laughed. Margo was all sass and wit and sarcasm. Even when I got in her personal space while she was damn near naked, she didn’t back down. So I leaned in until our faces were inches apart. “I’ll make you pay for that Margo. For now though, I need a shower.”
“A cold one?”
I looked at her over my shoulder. “Hopefully not.”
Chapter Twelve
Margo
Hopefully not. Those words echoed in my brain as Rourke disappeared into the tiny bathroom with the discolored bathtub and blue tiled shower walls. When the sound of the shower turned on, all I could think about was what he looked like naked. In nothing but suds and water.
Probably close to perfect. Fucker. And here I was, no razor, no makeup, crazy poodle hair and no bra.
Great.
The more I thought about him, the more turned on I became. My brand new panties would be wet in no time if I continued down this path. But, the little devil on my shoulder added, you could live in the moment. It might be your last. And that was the part I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Rourke and I could still die. It wasn’t like those Milano creeps would just give up simply because we’d gotten away. This wasn’t over.
And I was right back to dying. I didn’t want to die horny, and I certainly didn’t want the last sex I ever had to be a quick but unsatisfying one-night stand, which technically ended when he left, and I finished myself off.
“That just won’t fucking do,” I told myself and slipped off my panties before they were useless. There was no way in hell I would die without at least one taste of a man like Rourke.
No way in fucking hell.
The devil took hold of me as a smile crossed my face and an idea sparked. Rourke had made it no secret that he was attracted to me. The way his gaze lingered on my breasts was a good hint, but the scorching heat in his eyes when he watched me pull on my panties was certifiable proof. Now I just had to decide how I wanted to play this.
Shower or bed? My gaze went to the bathroom door and I axed that thought. The motel bathroom was tiny and the shower was barely more than a stall, which meant the full-size bed would have to work. I removed the towel and draped it over the back of the lone chair pushed under the small table before climbing onto the bed. The bedspread from the eighties wasn’t ideal but this wasn’t romance; it was lust, plain and simple.
He wanted me, and I wanted him. But just for tonight. Rourke was a criminal just like my dad. I had no desire to get involved with a guy like that. I knew them too well, had grown up around dozens of men just like him, and they all had one thing in common. They didn’t settle down until it was absolutely necessary, which meant this could only ever be one night.
Just in case it was our last night on earth.
The shower turned off and I held my breath until movement sounded on the other side of the door. Several deep breaths later, I felt calm. Well, as calm as I could be, aside from all the fucking lady hormones ravaging my body. Clenching my thighs tight, I leaned back on my elbows and arched until my boobs were displayed to perfection.
I just hoped Rourke didn’t choose this moment to act like a gentleman and turn me away.
The door opened, and he stepped out. The towel he held cinched at the waist barely covered him and gave me a nice view of the outline of what was beneath. Rourke froze about two feet from the bed. His gaze took in all the details of my naked body while I did my best to seem cool and calm. Like I seduced handsome gangsters every day.
“I, uhm, forgot my clothes.” He said with a devilish grin.
My lips curled into a smile. “Me too,” I cooed. I took advantage of his shock, cataloging everything about this mostly naked man in front of me. His body was, in a word, fan-fucking-tastic. He was tall and lean with muscles carved into every inch of his body, abs for days, sculpted pecs topped by light pink nipples and that sexy little vee at the hips that made all women lose their damn minds.
“What is this, Margo?” He didn’t sound angry or like rejection was imminent but he was confused.
“This is me,” I told him and sat up, “going after what I want.”
“Oh, and you want me?” he asked in barely a whisper.
“I do. More importantly, I want your body. And, I think you want mine.” If not for his grip on the towel, the raging erection beneath it would have revealed all of him to me.
“I do,” he barely bit out from the strain of standing right where he was. Not moving, barely breathing. “You sure?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Do I seem unsure?”
“No, but I don’t imagine I’m your type.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Rourke. Everything about this,” I motioned to him from head to toe, “is my type. I don’t love how you make your money, but that’s not my business. Not now.” And not ever.
“So…this is just sex?”
“You want it to be more than that?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I curled myself up and off the bed and went to him. “Look Rourke, we both know you don’t want anything serious and certainly not with me. But I like you and I want you.”
“Because you think we might die?”
“Partly. But mostly it’s because I think you’ll rock my world.” I trailed one finger ever so slowly from his chin, down his neck and, still taking my time, tracing the shape of his pecs and letting my fingers roam over all six ridges of his abs before tucking a lone finger into the towel wrapped around his waist.
“Will you rock my world?” I asked in little more than a whisper.
He growled when the towel fell, but when my hand wrapped around his long, thick cock, the sound was more guttural. Dark. Hungry.
“Margo, you’re playing with fire.”
Maybe so, but now that I had him in my hand, there was no way in hell I’d back out. “Maybe it’s you playing with fire?”
One hand stroked his cock as I memorized every ridge and imagined how it would feel buried deep inside of me, making me clench and scream. My thumb slid over the wet slit on the head of his dick and Rourke snapped.
His eyes were ten shades of dark with flecks of gold giving him the look of a wild cat, graceful and deadly. Strong, hot hands went to my waist and lifted me up, but before I could wrap my legs around him and feel the length of him pressed between my legs, he tossed me on the bed and stroked his cock. “You want this?”
I nodded.
“Tell me.”
“I want you, Rourke. All of you.”
His gaze never wavered, never looked away as he crawled onto the bed between my legs, hovering over me. “Tell me what you want, Margo.”
That raspy note in his voice sent another rush of wetness between my thighs, and I thought I might die if he kept teasing me. Or, I could tease back.
“I want you to fuck me. I want to come all over your beautiful prick. Make me cry out your name while I come.” His gaze turned black, and he licked his lips. “I want to taste you. Suck on you until your legs tremble and you forget your name.”
“Fuck,” he bit out and lowered his mouth to mine in a kiss that was anything but nice and sweet. It was rough and dirty, hard and intense. No man had ever kissed me like that, like he wanted me too much to worry about things like tenderness, and that was just fine with me. Every stroke of his tongue against mine made me wetter, my nipples harder.
A cry escaped when his mouth left mine but it turned into a low, never-ending moan as his mouth explored every inch of my body, tasting the hard tips of my nipples with his whole mouth, licking the underside of each breast until I wriggled with uncontrollable desire. Down my belly he went, kissing and nibbling the bruises that had popped up from the kidnapping and the hits.
“God, Rourke.”
His shoulders pushed my legs wide, and he looked up from between them with a wicked smile.
“God Rourke, I like it.” He
teased.
A sarcastic comment had been poised to fly out of my mouth but then Rourke opened me up and licked on my pussy lips until a full body shiver went through me. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch as he licked me, first with only the tip of his tongue in slow, barely there strokes against my clit.
Then his tongue went flat and wide and his eyes gleamed as he licked me from one end to the other, over and over again.
“Yes,” I moaned time and again as his tongue worked faster and faster. Both hands flew to his hair and I didn’t know how I could tell, but he was smiling as I gripped his hair and started fucking his mouth.
“God, yes!” I didn’t know what had come over me, but this girl taking what she wanted and being so dirty about it wasn’t me.
Rourke’s tongue slipped inside, and he gripped my ass as I ground against him, faster and harder. My orgasm was so close, and I pulled back, just a little, hoping to make the moment last. Rourke, however, had other ideas. His thumb replaced his tongue, hitting that spot that made thoughts impossible, circling my clit again and again. Then, he growled and I lost it.
“Oh Rourke, yes!” Those were the only words my mind could remember. I must have said them a hundred times while Rourke licked and sucked the rest of the orgasm out of me. Pulsing, leaking, and convulsing like a madwoman, I let my head fall back while I struggled to catch my breath.
“Oh, fuck.”
“That’s next,” he promised as he got to his knees and stroked his cock in slow, hypnotic strokes. “You still sure?”
My mouth watered at the sight of his cock. “More than sure,” I told him and reached out to stroke him.
“Good. Show me where you want me.” His commanding tone sent a shiver through me, but I couldn’t do anything other than obey, which I would have to talk to myself about later. Much, much later.
His head fell back but only temporarily because he was as intrigued as I was, watching as I brought all nine inches of him toward my swollen wet pussy. When his head breached the opening, and I pulled him deeper inside of me, we both moaned. It had been too long since I had a man inside of me and never a man this size.
