Return to poughkeepsie, p.38
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       Return to Poughkeepsie, p.38

           Debra Anastasia
 

  She pulled him on top of her, scratching his back before hugging him tightly.

  He lay there for a few minutes before sliding to her side. She’d never been much of a cuddler, but he made her snuggle in now. “Boom, baby. How you like me now?” Beckett wanted to stroke her hair, but it was a knotty, bloody mess. He felt proud.

  She laughed. “Pretty damn good, I’ll give you that.”

  “I love your laugh. I need more of it.” He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.

  Her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own: running across his chest, playing with the hair there. “Hmm,” was all she managed.

  Lying in his arms felt more right than wrong—even though it was depraved and dirty, it was perfect.

  “It’s been so long I thought I was going to have to take over Cole’s old priest robes.” Beckett chuckled.

  “No ladies in Maryland?” Eve was surprised.

  “No. We had a deal, remember? Right?” Beckett sat up, pulling her with him. He looked at her, holding her shoulders. “I know it’s been a really long time for you too, right?”

  “If you say so.” She lifted her eyebrows.

  “Are you kidding me? Who was it? I’ll kill the motherfucker to death.” Beckett’s eyes went wild. “Was it the cop?”

  Eve untangled herself and saw her reflection in his mirror. “You cut my hair!”

  She stood and headed for the bathroom to inspect the damage. She shook her hair out and watched as some chunks came loose. “Freaking hair knife amateur,” she mumbled. He was still carrying on about sex with other people as she figured out how to turn on his complicated shower.

  The water came from all sorts of angles, and she stepped into it, wetting her hair before he followed her, still ranting. He ran his hand over the top of his head and grabbed the bottle of soap with the other.

  Stealing the soap, she poured it into a loofah, smirking at him. “Use this to keep your panties clean?”

  “Are you even listening to me?” Beckett stole the sponge back and took over washing the blood off her skin.

  “No. I’m too busy making fun of your totally girly shower setup.” She found his shampoo and added it to her hair.

  She turned to face him when she felt him stop his ministrations. Instead he looked at her feet. The bottom of the shower swirled with pink water and long blond hairs.

  “Looks like a fucking crime scene.” He dropped the loofa and ran his hands over her. “Bruises and marks all over. Jesus. I even cut your hair.”

  When she bent down to get the sponge, Beckett slipped inside her again. She yelped and laughed. “Nice prison maneuver there.”

  And then he pounded the laughter out of her, eventually pulling her upright and pushing her against the glass shower door. She could see through the door to the mirror in the bedroom, her refection showing soapy breasts pushing rhythmically against the glass.

  He finished quickly. “Wow. Sorry about that. You naked does that to me.”

  She shook her head. They rinsed off again, and he didn’t have any conditioner, so her newly butchered hair would be a ball of knots.

  Beckett insisted on toweling her off, and she rolled her eyes but let him. He tucked the towel around her before grabbing his own. They took a few minutes to bandage and treat their various wounds.

  “Hungry?” He held out his hand when they were finally done.

  She looked at him for a minute: stupidly good looking with his low-slung towel and dimpled smile. “I could eat.” She let him hold her hand on their way to the kitchen, both of them in their towels like a TV couple. She sat on a bar stool as he whipped up a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Gandhi sat expectantly at his feet, long tongue lolling out. After some eggs had cooled enough, the dog was rewarded with a mouthful. He plated their eggs and sat next to her. She loved him, really loved him. With her heart. The wave of it hit her hard.

  When they’d finished, he cleared their plates, and standing at the sink, he loaded the dishwasher. Seeing this deadly guy do something so mundane in his towel was incredible.

  “What?” He caught her staring.

  Eve bit her tongue—she had a running practice of not saying shit. But this was something she had to do. “I like seeing you. Being here with you. The way you move turns me on.”

  His face registered shock before he reacted with a suggestive dance around the kitchen. “You like me now?” He dropped his towel, even though there was no music.

  “Now I like you a little less.”

  He stopped dancing and growled. She took off before he could launch himself at her, losing her towel as she scrambled up the stairs. She almost got the door to his bedroom closed before he busted in.

  “Seriously? You’re powerless against my mad dancing skills. Just bow down.” He began gyrating again.

  “Okay, please. If it makes you stop.” Eve climbed onto his bed and covered herself with blankets.

  He danced over, making a huge show of his manhood bouncing around until she flat out laughed.

  He crawled under the covers with her. “If that’s what it takes to make you laugh, I’ll become a nudist and follow you around like that wherever you go. Grocery store? Me. Bam. In line at the DMV? Me. Still there. Pow.”

  He was thrusting under the covers, punctuating his speech as best he could with his penis. She smacked him on the chest before he trapped her hands. She let him.

  Face to face again, he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Eve pulled her hands free and forced him to lay back so she could rest her head on his chest.

  They listened to each other breathe for a while.

  “I don’t want to leave.” He was being candid again.

  “We’ve got time.” She touched his face. “In fact, I should have bought us all the time we’ll ever need—an insurance policy, if you will. While I was chatting with Sevan, I liberated a nice pile of evidence he’d collected about Vitullo Weapons’ less-than-savory dealings. If someone comes calling, we can always threaten to leak it and tank their legitimate business. It’s not perfect. But it’s something.”

  Beckett kissed her again. “You’re a genius. The best fucking weapon there is.” He smiled. “But actually, I meant I don’t want to leave your side. Naked or not, I want to be right next to you for the rest of the time I have on this planet.” He looked from her lips to her eyes and she could see he held nothing back. Pure honesty.

  “The way we do things, chances are forever is a pretty short time.” She hated to think of it. Having him here, knowing he was safe gave her peace. No one could hurt him without going through her first.

  “I’m sorry about that.” He touched her face as well.

  She smiled at the irony of two murderers being so tender with each other, so in love that the prospect of dying made them afraid.

  “So what are we, Bonnie and Clyde?” He titled his head with the question.

  “They were fools who got trapped and died.” She straddled him.

  “Romeo and Juliet?” He found his place inside her quickly, ready for her like a machine.

  “Dramatic assholes. Also wound up dead.” She began rocking, reaching a hand behind her to grab him.

  “Oh, God.” His eyes fluttered into his head briefly before he returned to their conversation. “No one gets out alive, killer.”

  “Then we can be Eve and Beckett.” She used every muscle she had to sheath him, multiply the pleasure of his time inside her. All the while her hand manipulated him, finding ways to increase his sensations. “Because I’d like to come first.”

  He fought back, grabbing her breast with one hand and parting her so he could tease her release lower. Then nothing else mattered. Her voice grew hoarse from screaming his name and cursing his torture. At the tipping point of no return, at the very edge of her orgasm, he stopped.

  She gasped at the loss of him, his exquisite talent. He tossed her onto her back, kissing her slowly until her breathing was under control. “You want to
come first? Your wish is my command.”

  When he turned his back to straddle her and slipped lower, she fought him, writhing until her head hung off the edge of the bed. “Race to the finish?”

  He groaned and held up a finger. “Fine, but I get power tools.”

  He pulled a serious-looking vibrator out of the drawer by his bed.

  She mocked his voice. “I needed priest robes.”

  “I’ll have you know this thing is brand fucking new. I bought it for you. Smell it.”

  She covered her face. He wrestled the latex ball close to her nose. “Inhale, damn it.”

  Because she had no choice, she did. Indeed it did smell overwhelmingly new. “That was nasty.”

  “You want nasty? My next assault between your legs will be on another fucking level.”

  She burst out laughing.

  “You are destroying the mood. Suck my dick.” He pushed her head into position.

  In an instant she took him in completely, remembering when he hit the back of her throat how goddamn huge he was, though the soreness between her legs should have reminded her already.

  Before he could get oriented, she did everything she remembered he liked and hated. Teeth, tongue, and a swirling hand motion started his hips pumping and his mouth cursing—every sensitive spot hit like the assassin she was. No build up, no slow seduction, she gave him everything and he responded in kind, his fingers and mouth fighting back, forcing her to release him and take a moment to gasp.

  And so it began, for every sexual task she set to, he matched and bettered her, yin and yang. Sucking and biting, his fingers asked her to experience things only he could create for her. Then the vibration started at a dull roar. He dragged the vibrations from back to front, her legs twitching when he found her melting spot. And then he pressed. It was as if her body was electrically wired to his desires. Her orgasm came quickly, while he watched from inches away. She’d stopped sucking him off for fear she might actually injure him. She was flat-out screaming and growling for him now. She grabbed the backs of his thighs, clawing her desire into his skin.

  “That’s right. Come. I know you have more.” And then he began with the fingers, punishing her body into submission. Her release was ridiculous, pouring from her and soaking his mattress. It was minutes that seemed like hours of an out-of-body experience. The heaviness gone, finally free. She was boneless and useless, but when she opened her eyes and saw the room upside down, she still remembered she’d lost the battle.

  It was time to win the war. She stole his battery-powered torture stick and used it to take his balls on a joyride. He braced on the mattress and fucked her mouth for all he was worth. When his cursing filled the room, a good number of people might have been frightened, but not her.

  She took liberties with this powerful man that only she had the guts to do. Fingers, hands, teeth—scraping and teasing until she knew he was full to the breaking point. And then she spread her legs so his only view was this power she had over him.

  “Holy fucking shit.” Beckett was about to pull free, so she grabbed his ass and locked him in her mouth, swallowing what he had to offer, killing him the entire time he came.

  And she took back the win.

  After yet another shower, Beckett had his girl in his arms on the couch in the living room. G was a snoring mess after a thorough belly rub from Eve.

  “I won the sex—so we’re clear.” She gave him a kiss on the lips.

  “You won the battle. For us, sex is a war, stuffin muffin. And I’m a warlord.” He growled at her.

  “Okay. Keep telling yourself that.” She rested completely against him now.

  Beckett pulled her closer as he rearranged himself to sink deeper into the couch, rubbing his foot on his dog. No enemies lurking, no fucking errands to run for His Geezerness Rodolfo, and an ace in the hole against future troubles, thanks to the cunning Ms. Eve. He was a little bit terrified by how much he loved this moment.

  Sneak Peek

  The Poughkeepsie Brotherhood

  book 3

  EVE PARKED HER MOTORCYCLE outside Starbucks in the crisp November air and used her credit card to pay for street parking. Beckett had given her hell for not going with him to Maryland to see the new baby. But although she was thrilled that Cole and Kyle were finally getting their child, the sight of a baby still killed something in her and she could find no way to tell him that. So he was pissed, and left strict instructions for her to take douchebags with her everywhere she went until he got back.

  However, at the moment, instead of accompanying assholes, she had her piece on her and a knife tucked inside her jacket. It had been months since their showdown with Rodolfo Vitullo, and neither he or anyone else from Vitullo Weapons had bothered them at all. Besides, she just needed a quick cocoa.

  She got on line and ordered her usual. But when she went to pay, Ryan’s voice was in her ear. “Let me.”

  Eve nodded, keeping her eyes on the counter. She knew having to face Ryan was coming eventually now that she was living in Poughkeepsie again. It was a miracle it had been this long, but she just wished she’d seen it coming. As they waited for their drinks, she looked him up and down—still handsome, but more rugged than last time. And he still had love for her in his eyes, which made her look away.

  “Ride here on the back of someone’s bike?” he asked, gesturing to her helmet.

  She responded with her best not-fucking-likely glare.

  “You have your own?” He grabbed her drink before the barista could call Eve’s name, then took the next order right out of the lady’s hand.

  “I do.” She tapped her foot and looked at her beverage.

  “Come with me to a table, and I’ll let you have it.” He gave her a smile.

  He was trying. She hated how deeply she’d hurt him. “Fine.” She followed him to a corner spot and sat, resting her helmet on the extra chair.

  “This is where it all started.” He slid her cup across to her waiting hand.

  She said nothing, but took a sip of the piping hot chocolate.

  “Fancy meeting you here.” He tried again. “I was just thinking about you.”

  She could see women looking at him. He made a nice package in his crisp slacks and button-down shirt. She sighed.

  “Listen, I’m not trying to make this awkward for you. I just wanted you to know I looked into my uncles’ records. I unearthed some buried juvie reports.” He twirled his coffee in his hands. “There was some information there I wanted to address with you. You were—”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she interrupted. “Why change your memories of them? You should have left well enough alone.”

  His jaw tensed. “Because as much as I said I didn’t believe you, I didn’t think you’d…” He looked around before lowering his voice. “…kill people without a reason. Now Taylor, yes. I still think he’s a barnacle on a dragon testicle.”

  Eve suppressed a laugh.

  “Okay, whatever. I’m nervous.”

  She smiled at him and sighed. “You know you taught me to laugh. I didn’t do it enough before you.”

  He stopped talking and took a sip of his coffee. They sat together, the distance between them so much greater than the table.

  “You with him now?” Ryan stared out the window.

  “Yeah.” She crossed her legs and accidently brushed against his under the table. “Sorry.”

  “For kicking me or for throwing your life away?” He leveled his brown eyes on her.

  “If you thought that was a kick, we have an issue.” She tried to make light of his question, but things were getting awkward. She got to the point. “You need to move past me now.”

  He shook his head and frowned. “I disagree. I’m not one for giving up.”

  “Let’s review: You’re a cop. I’m the exact opposite of that.” Eve touched his hand. “And besides, he’s where I’ll always be, even if it’s just in my head. You deserve better.” She stood and grabbed her helmet. “That so
unds fake, but I want the best for you. I really do.” She shrugged, knowing he’d never understand how much she wished they could be friends. She’d miss him.

  He nodded instead of answering, and Eve tossed her cup out on the way to her bike, a thousand emotions swirling through her. By the time she looked up, it was already too late.

  Ryan watched her leave, silently hating how goddamn beautiful she was. It would be a hell of a lot easier to sit rejected if he didn’t have a giant hard-on. And if she wasn’t driving a motorcycle.

  Fuck me sideways. He hung his head. Damned if he hadn’t lost her forever. And it sucked. Son of a bitch. He looked down at the table, running his hands through his hair until the red and blue lights reflecting off the walls of the coffee shop caught his attention.

  He stood and turned, looking for the source, and he saw Eve kneeling on the sidewalk with her hands in the air.

  Ryan walked briskly outside, where two policemen had their guns drawn and pointed at Eve.

  “Keep your hands nice and high where we can see them,” one of them admonished.

  Ryan couldn’t stop himself. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Step aside, sir. This is police business.”

  “Really? Then you won’t have any trouble sharing.” He pulled his badge out of his jacket and showed it to the men.

  And look of panic flashed between them. Although they were in uniform, they had what appeared to be an unmarked car.

  “What’s your station house? Because I know this isn’t a local situation.” Ryan stepped closer to the armed men and looked at Eve. She was staying put, hands in the air.

 
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