The Gangster's Girlfriend

Closing her eyes in shame, Miranda fought for control. This was so unlike her. Confusion was as strong as her desire. She was frigid. She didn’t enjoy sex at all. In the six years she was married, she had never once looked forward to sex. In the three years since her marriage ended, her few sexual urges were satisfied by masturbation that she only felt the need for perhaps once a every other month. Sometimes she went two or three months without the need. Even when she needed a release with masturbation, she needed a lubricant. Her body had never once created the moisture that flooded her now without first reaching a climax that often took so long her wrist was sore when she was done.

“Tell me what you are thinking.” Husky and low, the words slid down her spine.

Shaking her head, she sought out the memory of the last time she and her ex-husband had sex. The discomfort, the shame and counting the seconds until he was finished. She needed to remember that. It didn’t matter what she imagined with Declan Kelly, the reality would be different. That knowledge allowed her to get herself together and look him in the eye. “The entire interest, the vig, Peter called it. I do the audit and find the people or person stealing from you and Peter only pays back the principal.”

He was surprised, and his amber eyes darkened. “A vig keeps running until the money is paid back. That’s a lot of money to kiss away.”

“I have no doubt it’s nothing compared to the theft you’ve experienced or I wouldn’t be here now.”

He was very still as his eyes roamed over her body. She fought her body’s reaction and maintained a level gaze.

“You have a deal.” He nodded.

She stood. She had to get away from him.

“Sit back down.” An order, velvet gloved over an iron fist. “Please.” The word softer when she didn’t move.

Legs that were weak sighed with relief as she sat back down but refused to look at him. “What? What more business is there to discuss?”

A light smiled played over his beautiful lips. “Sweetheart, this isn’t about business. What I want to talk about now is pleasure, yours and mine. Stay with me. We can have dinner and then we can learn more about the desire that is between us.”

Miranda gasped in outrage and shock at his words. How could he k

now? Was she so completely transparent? “How dare you?”

Shaking his head, he sounded sad, “Darlin’, do not be denying your desire for me. There is no need, as I find myself suffering the same. True, a desire this strong is not a common thing, but to deny it does nobody any good.”

No, she couldn’t do this. She stood up, and he did too. “Stop, no. No way. I will do the audit, but that’s it. I will not get involved with you at all on a personal level. Criminals are absolutely a no-go for me, ever.”

Turning away, she made it to the doorway of the office before he reached her, his hand on her wrist. His touch was a brand on her skin. He pulled her around to face him, and he was so close to her that she had only to lean forward to touch her body to his. She froze, terrified of touching him.

“Miranda, why does this attraction frighten you? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Stepping back, she attempted to yank free, but he tightened his grip. “I am not your sweetheart, so quit talking like that. I’m sure your wife or girlfriend or whatever wouldn’t appreciate it. I’m not a toy to be picked up and played with. Take your hand off me.”

Sighing, he let her go. “I have no woman, Miranda, and I believed that being honest and forthright would be welcome. I mean no disrespect to you. I had no idea that deep down you are a child when it comes to sexual pleasure. I apologize.”

Miranda opened her mouth to argue with him, but she couldn’t find the words. He stepped closer, and as he leaned into her she could feel the heat of his body. Her mind screamed to move, but she was frozen. His lips were soft as they teased the corner of her mouth with light, fluttering movements. Heat hit her hard and flooded over her, and still she couldn’t move. At her lack of reaction, his lips moved over hers, just grazing, without the slightest bit of pressure. Yet everywhere they touched, she felt it down to the core of her, and she opened for him without thought. With a sigh, he swept into her parted lips. His tongue was hot, and the taste of him was sin and sweet in a heady mix. Slowly, almost gently, he explored her mouth, and with long, sure strokes of his tongue, he tasted her. Shock held her in place. She wasn’t responding but she couldn’t pull away. It felt too good. Deeper he moved into her mouth, his tongue sliding over hers causing her to tremble with need. He was drawing her into his own mouth, the soft, hot cavern of him, and she moaned. The sound woke her from the dream he had woven around her, and she pulled away, swaying as she went.

“No.” It killed her that her voice shook and her body trembled. There was so much she wanted to tell him. That he was wrong, she knew about sex and how painful and lonely it could feel. How she could never be what he wanted her to be because she wasn’t like other women. But she couldn’t. Closing her mouth she half ran down the hall and out the front door. He was right, and she had no defense against him.

Chapter Three

Miranda was awake before her alarm went off, already tense about seeing Declan again. Sleep had been torture, too light and then too deep, and with dreams filled with Declan that she wanted to wake from but couldn’t. She was still aroused from her dreams. Her nipples were hard, and she was shockingly wet again. Her fingers found the moisture between her legs, and she was fascinated by it. Her dreams flooded her: Declan hard inside her mouth, his soft and lovely lips on her body, his tongue hot and wet on her skin, him sliding into her. Her fingers moved over her clitoris, and she trembled as an orgasm overtook her.

As her breathing evened out and she pulled her fingers from her body, shame hit her hard. She needed to get herself under control. The attraction she felt for Declan was a moment of craziness, because he was so gorgeous and she hadn’t had sex in years.

Rolling out of bed, she took a very quick shower and was in front of her closet. At five seven, she was a size ten, and although she was larger than the pinheads in the fashion industry told her she should be, she didn’t care enough to change it. She had what her college roommate had described as Marilyn Monroe curves, and they drew appreciation from men. Combined with her natural light blond hair, dark blue eyes, and creamy, pale skin, Miranda had never had a problem attracting male attention. Her problem was that she didn’t want it. Her work outfits were never fussy. She preferred the basics of either wide-leg trousers in the winter or a skirt in the few nice months. Her skirts usually skimmed her knees, paired with a button-down blouse of basic colors. She also had several long pencil skirts. After yesterday, Miranda thought it would be safer to cover up against Declan’s roving eyes, so she went with plain black pants and an even more boring black blouse. Putting her long hair in a severe bun, she completed her look with plain black flats.

That night on the El, she gave herself a lecture that she hoped would keep Declan at bay and her body in control. Fidgeting with the strap on her large bag she carried, in addition to her small purse, she looked down at her accounting calculator from work. She felt more comfortable with something familiar. As her stop approached, she prepared to get off out of habit and had to move to sit back down. The stop near Declan wasn’t until Addison, several stops from her own Western stop on the Brown Line. From her near-run from Declan’s house, she had found herself on North Broadway in Boystown, as most people in Chicago knew it, despite it being listed as East Lakeview on the city maps. It wasn’t an area she often went to, normally staying in her own Old Town area. Although she did enjoy the shopping in Lincoln Park, just south of Boystown, from time to time.

Ignoring the somersaults her stomach was doing, she rang the bell, and barely ten seconds had passed before the heavy oak door opened. It was the smaller, blue-eyed man who opened the door. “Mrs. Beckett, I’ll be needing both your bags, ma’am, and your cell phone, please.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice was ice, and her back was straight as a board.

“Please, ma’am. I’ll just be storing your things in the cupboard, and you can retrieve them on the way out. It’s for security reasons.” He looked uncomfortable but persistent.

“I need the large bag. It has my calculator. I brought it expressly for the purpose that I do not want to use anything else but this.” Her words were clipped.