Wanderer (The Nomad Series Book 2)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  It was the open road.

  Now home is wherever they are.

  Celeste and Skylar.

  My girls.

  It’s fucking mind blowing how shit can change so quickly. How I went from a loner to a man with a family.

  A family.

  Sounds strange.

  Especially since I don’t know a damn thing about my daughter other than she’s gorgeous.

  Balancing the food in one hand, I pound my fist against the door and make a mental note to get a key made. After a few attempts, she doesn’t answer and I place the food down. Reaching into my cut I pull out a leather pouch.

  Being a criminal keeps you prepared for anything.

  It takes me two minutes to pick the lock and step inside her apartment. Tomorrow she’s getting a fucking fire safe door with a deadbolt. The scent of her perfume hits me as I gather the pizza boxes from the floor and step into the apartment.

  Glancing around the living room, I spot her curled into a ball on the couch fast asleep. I drop the pizza boxes onto the counter and wander through the house looking for the baby, but there isn’t any sign of her. Making my way back to the couch, I kneel in front of it and push the hair out of Celeste’s eyes.

  So peaceful.

  So fucking gorgeous.

  I hate to wake her but need to know where Skylar is. Gently, I shake her shoulder until her brown eyes flutter open.

  “Hi,” she says groggily.

  “Hi,” I murmur, caressing her cheek. “Where’s the baby?”

  Yawning, she stretches out her legs then curls them back to her chest.

  “She’s with my parents. They asked to keep her for the night. I had a little too much to drink at Gina’s,” she explains, reaching out to grab a hold of my shirt. “Shit,” she mutters, running her free hand over her face.

  “I’m sorry, Cobra, I didn’t even think before I said yes. If you want me to go get her I will.”

  Threading my fingers through her hair, I lean over her and fix my eyes to hers.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. Sure, I wanted to spend time with Skylar. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to know everything about her. That doesn’t change the fact that a couple of days ago I vowed to get to know her mother better and make up for all the years we had lost. It doesn’t change the promise I made to tally her smiles again.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “When was the last time you had a free night?”

  She studies me for a moment before pushing herself up and swinging her legs over the edge of the couch.

  “Honestly? I don’t remember,” she admits. “I’m not complaining.”

  “No you’re not, but you wouldn’t be wrong if you were,” I counter as I rise from my knees and sit beside her on the couch. My hand cups her knee. “Can’t imagine it’s been easy on you.”

  “I’m not looking for a medal, Cobra,” she asserts quickly.

  “How ʼbout a good time? You in the market for a night out?”

  Stretching her legs across my lap, she cocks her head to the side and stares at me.

  “Are you asking me on a date?”

  “Seems overdue,” I answer with a shrug. I point to the pizza boxes on the counter. “Breakfast.”

  “Pizza for breakfast?” she questions.

  “Ice cold pizza,” I tell her.

  “That’s hangover food,” she accuses.

  “Only if it’s accompanied by a side of Tylenol,” I point out, shrugging my shoulders. “Otherwise that shit’s the breakfast of champions.”

  Grinning, I run my hands down her legs, stopping to squeeze her thigh.

  “Come on, gorgeous, live a little with me,” I urge.

  “Famous last words,” she whispers.

  “But words that are always worth the memory.”

  Releasing her, I slide her legs off my lap and stand. Pulling her up from the couch, I start for the bathroom.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Need a shower, and if I know you, you’re going to want to get yourself all dolled up.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, I’m fucking starving and what better way to save time other than showering together,” I say, pushing her into the bathroom. “Take your clothes off.”

  I kick the bathroom door closed, push down the toilet seat and sit down to remove my boots. Surprisingly, she doesn’t give me her lip. When I peer back at her I’m treated to that sweet shimmy of her hips as she works her pants down her legs.

  “That’s my girl,” I growl.

  “I’ve never had shower sex before,” she confesses, kicking her pants across the tile floor.

  “Giving me another first, yeah?”

  “All of them.” She winks as she pulls her shirt over her head.

  Standing in front of me in nothing but her bra and thong, she reaches for my shirt.

  “Let me help you,” she whispers. Carefully she works my shirt over my shoulders and bends her head to press her lips to the gauze covering my shoulder.

  “We should probably keep this covered,” she murmurs, tossing my shirt behind her.

  “Whatever you say, nurse,” I rasp.

  Taking hold of her hips I push her back so I can stand. My fingers work the button on my jeans. The zipper is next before I push the denim down my legs and kick them to the side. Her eyes dart down to my cock and it twitches in satisfaction.

  All yours, babe.

  All yours.

  Spinning her around, I reach behind the shower curtain and twist the knobs, turning the water on. Reaching behind her, she unclasps her bra and pulls the straps down her arms. My eyes dip to her breasts and a groan rumbles through me.

  “Get in,” I demand.

  Her hands move to the waistband of her underwear but I grab a hold of her.

  “In. Now.”

  Eyes latched onto mine, she steps into the shower under the spray. I follow her in, watch as she tilts her head from side to side, making sure the water soaks through her blonde hair. My gaze drifts to the pebbles of water sprinting down her body, soaking her underwear so it clings to her pussy.

  Growling like a starved animal, I close the distance between us and take her face in my hands.

  “Didn’t realize how much I missed this until now,” I admit. “Makes me wonder how I ever lasted.”

  Bending my head, I brush my lips across hers. My tongue snakes out, runs along the seam and demands entry. Never one to deny me the opportunity to take from her, her lips part and my tongue invades her mouth.

  Hot.

  Hungry.

  Insatiable.

  She wraps her hands around my wrists, feeding off our kiss, matching the stroke of her tongue to mine and rocks her hips against mine. Tearing my lips from hers, I groan wildly and push her back against the cool tiles. She yelps, and fuck, my dick likes that too.

  Dipping my head, I go in for another kiss, this time assaulting her lips with my teeth before sucking her tongue in my mouth. Grabbing her hands I lift them over her head, pinning them with one hand as I reach down and take a hold of her tit.

  Her fucking tits are enough to drive me mad and for a fleeting second I regret the shower sex. Imagining her sprawled on her back pressing her tits together as my cock glides between them. Yeah, that’s a fucking beautiful picture right there. Be even prettier if I shot my load all over those creamy breasts, rubbing every drop over those tight, pink nipples.

  “Fuck,” I grunt, closing my eyes.

  I shake my head as I battle with my raging cock.

  “What’s the matter?” she hisses.

  Breathless.

  Wanton.

  “Don’t speak,” I plead.

  Her voice alone does things to me. After another moment, I drop to my knees and spread her legs apart.

  “Give me that pussy, baby,” I beg, palming her through the underwear that clings to her.

  “God, yes,” she rasps as my fingers tear the lace away.

 
Bare, pink flesh, soaked and swollen stares back at me, begging to be devoured.

  An unintelligible sound rolls up from my throat as I slide my fingers between her lips. Her legs shake as she pushes her hips off the tiles and nudges her pussy closer to my mouth.

  “Give me your mouth, Cobra,” she cries. “Make me feel alive.”

  The selfish fuck I am gets harder because she begs for it. Giving in, I swipe my tongue down her center. That first taste is like the whiskey I’ve become used too.

  It goes down smooth.

  Burns once it settles.

  Leaves you craving the whole fucking bottle.

  Licking her from the bottom up, I flick my tongue over her clit. My strokes are slow, gradually picking up speed. She grinds her pussy over my face, crying for my tongue to give it to her harder.

  I flick my tongue faster.

  Oversensitive, her body slows and her fingers glide through my hair. She rotates her hips, circling her clit over my tongue.

  “Slow,” she whispers. “It’s too much.”

  Never enough.

  Twirling my tongue in circles, my fingers tease her and she changes her mind again, deciding she wants more.

  Needs more.

  Loving my tongue, her legs quiver as she gets close. It won’t be too long before she loses herself. I glance up at her and find her lips parted, one hand playing with her tit, squeezing her nipple between her fingers as she stares back at me.

  “Goddamn girl,” I grunt against her.

  “More,” she demands, pulling my hair with the other hand. “Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

  Shoving two fingers into her pussy, I give her back my tongue and get ready to send her to heaven. Crooking my fingers, I press against her walls.

  “More, fuck,” she cries out as I flick my tongue over her clit repeatedly, wondering if my jaw will lock before she actually comes.

  I give her a third finger. Fuck her hard, lick her fast and then my gorgeous girl goes off like a firecracker. Screaming out my name, she pulls my hair and pulses against my tongue.

  That’s it, baby, get lost.

  When she starts to come down, I pull my fingers out and look up at her, watching as she pushes the water away from her face.

  “You’re going to kill me.”

  “Best way to go, baby,” I hiss as I drop down onto my ass and lean all the way against the far wall of the tub. Wrapping my hand around my shaft, I give it a nice, long, strong pull before I crook my finger.

  “Get on, babe, and fuck me like your life depends on it,” I grunt.

  Pushing off the tile, she stumbles toward me and plants one foot on each side of my thighs before she lowers herself to sit on my cock.

  “It’s your turn to beg, Cobra,” she whispers as she grips my good shoulder and takes me all the way inside her.

  “Beg. Plead. Cry for that shit,” she says.

  Yeah.

  She was going to kill me.

  Or we were going to kill each other.

  Either way, we were fucking to our death.

  Definitely not a bad way to go.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Shower sex might be the best thing ever.

  Whoever says it’s awkward and messy isn’t doing it right. They need to try it again. Over and over until they feel what I felt. No one should leave this earth without experiencing that.

  “You’ve got that look on your face,” Cobra points out, lifting the chopsticks to his mouth to mask the grin he’s sporting.

  “What look?”

  “The look you get when you’ve just been thoroughly fucked,” he says proudly, popping the piece of raw fish into his mouth.

  “You’re a pig,” I tease, taking my kid friendly chopsticks from my purse. You know the kind, the ones that have a piece of paper rolled between the sticks and secured with a rubber band at the end.

  “What are you doing?” he asks before washing down his sushi with a hefty gulp of sake.

  “What’s it look like I’m doing?” I pluck a piece of fish off the tremendous platter he ordered and bring it to my lips. Pausing, I frown as he looks at me. “Would you prefer I use my fingers?”

  He cocks an eyebrow before bowing his head and smirking.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised,” I say, popping the piece into my mouth. “Most conversations with you always lead to sex on the brain.”

  Smiling, he shrugs his shoulders innocently and picks a piece of sashimi off the platter. Expertly he lifts it between the chopsticks and reaches out to feed it to me.

  “Open up,” he says.

  “See,” I tease, parting my lips.

  His smile intact, he continues to watch me chew.

  “Hey,” he says, clearing his throat. “Do you remember the first time we went on an actual date?”

  Lifting an eyebrow, I tilt my head to the side and stare at him as if he’s lost his mind. Does he really think I don’t remember every single second we’ve ever shared? He may have tallied my smiles, but I counted the seconds, the minutes and every hour. My mind is a filmstrip of moments we spent together.

  “Stupid question,” he answers, reaching across the table to pick up my fake chopsticks. “Of course you remember. You probably still have the salt and pepper shakers you stole from the table.”

  Okay, so maybe I’m a kleptomaniac of sorts.

  “Only the salt shaker,” I confess. “The pepper shaker broke.”

  “And you didn’t save the pieces?” he laughs, lifting the chopsticks to stare at them for a moment.

  “So, what’s the story behind these?”

  “When Gina graduated college, we went out to dinner to celebrate. She insisted on sushi and it was my first time. The thought of eating raw fish was never appealing to me.”

  His tongue peeks out and wets his lips.

  Ignoring the dirty thoughts he entices I roll my eyes and continue.

  “We went to this place on New Dorp Lane in Staten Island. I think it was called Sushi Excellent. Anyway, she ordered half the menu and I barely got a morsel of food in my mouth. Halfway through the dinner, the waiter handed me these bad boys. We laughed for hours and when the check came, I felt cheated. A hundred and fifty dollars for dinner and I was fucking starving. I deserved something for my efforts.”

  “So you took the chopsticks.”

  “They’re lucky I didn’t take the fancy plates,” I counter with a grin.

  I snatch my chopsticks back and watch him laugh.

  “I really wanted the plates,” I add.

  “Always gotta take something from a restaurant,” he teases, glancing around the table. “What’s it going to be tonight?”

  Following his gaze, nothing catches my eye. Then I lift my head and watch as his lips quirk around the white porcelain cup before he takes another sip of sake.

  “I’m taking the cup,” I answer, pointing a finger at him as he lowers it from his mouth. “That way every time I see it in my cabinet, I’ll remember tonight and the way you smiled at me.”

  “You keeping a tally too?”

  “Maybe,” I admit, leaning back against the chair. “How many do you have so far?”

  “Not enough,” he rasps as he gives me a wink. “But the night is still young, gorgeous.”

  And just like that he had another one to add to his list.

  I gave him fifteen more smiles before we stumbled through the door of my apartment, laughing and tearing at one another’s clothes.

  He got my smile.

  I got another memory.

  And before we both fell asleep, we vowed to keep them coming.

  I think I heard somewhere your ears ring right before you kick the bucket, and right now my fucking ears are singing. I guess too much fucking will do that to you. At least that’s my theory. If someone offered me all the tea in China and told me the only way to get it was to go another round with Celeste, I’d have to pass. My dick actually hurts.

  Poor girl.

  She probably won’t be
able to walk until next Tuesday.

  Eyes shut tight, I lift my hands to my ears and will the ringing to stop. When it doesn’t quit I force my eyes open and struggle to focus. The first thing I see is Celeste’s hair spread across my chest. A smile curls across my lips.

  It’s the best way to wake up.

  Well, second best.

  First would be waking up with her lips wrapped around my cock, but there’s always tomorrow.

  Shit, look at that.

  When did I start living for tomorrow?

  The ringing sounds again and this time I’m able to recognize the sound and it turns out I’m not dying after all. The fucking doorbell is ringing.

  Glancing at the nightstand, I stare at the alarm clock and the offensive red numbers that read too fucking early. I nudge Celeste gently but she’s dead weight.

  She might have been fucked to death. The jury’s hung on that one.

  Rolling her onto her side, I slip out of bed and glance around the room for my jeans. Pulling them on, I glance back at her naked ass and listen to her snore.

  Cute as fuck she is.

  How did I do this? How did I spend so much time without this? It’s easier for a man who doesn’t know what he’s missing, but that isn’t me. I had her. Lost her and kept on living. Now I’ve got her again and I can’t imagine ever surviving without this again, without her.

  Crazy fucking shit.

  Deep shit.

  The kind of shit that makes you want to rewrite every fucking mistake you’ve ever made just to have more time.

  Drawing in a deep breath, my lungs burn as I walk out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind me before making my way to the front door.

  Another buzz of the bell.

  A fist against the door.

  If it’s Deuce, I’m going to kill the fucker.

  Pulling the door open, my breath gets caught in my lungs as I stare back at the two people who were like parents to me. Two people who welcomed me into their home when the one I was born into fell apart.

  I abandoned Sal and Nancy Spinelli just as I had their daughter.

  The man who taught me how to rebuild a car holds my daughter on his shoulders and stares back at me in shock, while the woman who made sure I had a warm meal every night gasps.

  “Jagger?” Nancy whispers.