The Gangster's Girlfriend

“Likely in the area of thirty thousand, perhaps as much as forty-five thousand.”

His granite glare scared her. He was now the lethal gangster Peter had warned her against, that she had believed him to be the first day. Turing away, she began to clear up her mess. She needed to get away from him, now. Her nerves were so frazzled the ledger nearly slipped from her hand as she turned to give it back to him. He had left his desk and was only a few feet from her, and she moved back, startled by how close he was.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I’ve finished. Here, you probably want to shred my notes so that no one—well, I’m sure you’re used to that.” She held out the ledger along with the legal pad and torn pages. “I really have to get going. I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow for The Garrick.”

He took what she handed him and tossed it on his desk without looking where it landed, and she turned away to escape him.

“Miranda, talk to me, sweetheart.”

She shook her head as she moved to the door of the study. “I have to go.”

“Damn it, Miranda, what the hell is the matter now?”

Declan’s exasperation set her off. “What’s the matter now? The same thing that has been the matter since I met you, but you keep refusing to listen. You’re going to kill them, aren’t you? You can dress it up as nicely as you want, but it doesn’t change that if you scratch the surface you’re just as bad as any member of the Outfit. If Peter doesn’t pay, your men are going to hurt him enough to scare the shit out of him so that he comes through with the money, like you would anyone you lent money to. These men fucked up big time, I don’t dispute that, but anywhere else they’d be fired or prosecuted. But not in your world. That wouldn’t be enough to make sure it never happens to you again, would it? You’ll kill them and make sure everyone knows what they did, and why they paid with their lives. I can’t be with someone like you. It goes against every fiber of my moral being. I’ve said it over and over again, and still you persist.”

“I persist, damn it, because you say the words but everything else betrays you,” he said. “I can see the longing in your eyes. I can see the way your body reacts to me with your hard nipples, and the way your breath catches, and I can smell your desire, Miranda. That very first day I stood next to you and smelled the wet heat of your pussy preparing to take my cock into you.” His laugh at her blush mocked her. “You might not want to want me, but you do, and the lies you tell don’t change that.”

Miranda wanted to run. She could see the front door and freedom, but her legs wouldn’t carry her away. How? How had he slipped through her every defense? Turning to him, she found he had moved, and he was so close, too close. She stepped back and crossed her arms. It was a blatant tell, and she couldn’t give a damn how it looked. His beautiful full lips tipped up, and he reached out and ran a finger down her arm. Through her thin silk blouse, fire followed the path he left.

“Don’t touch me.” Miranda flinched to hear the words escape her in a breathy, shallow whisper.

Declan smiled wide then, a hunter assured he had won his prey. “You say the words,” he said as he reached out and encircled her wrist in an unforgiving grip. “But your body says something very different.”

Slowly, he pulled her arm away from her body. Her other arm fell to her side, and her body was open to him. Her breasts were swollen and begging for his touch; her nipples, so tight and hard she was in pain, were on full display. He leaned down and kissed one nipple lightly. It was a mere flutter of touch, but it still burned through her blouse and her bra. She bit her cheek to hold back her moan, but there was no holding back the gush of liquid heat that spread through her. He moved to her other breast and gave it the same light kiss, and she sighed. Just as she believed that kiss was the end, his mouth captured the painfully hard nipple, and sucked it hard into his hot mouth.

She couldn’t breathe. Just when she believed she might black out, he released her breast and her legs gave out from beneath her. He caught her and swung her up into his arms. Heat seeped into every inch of her body at having so much of him pressed up against her. She wanted to sink into him; she wanted to crawl inside his skin. Then he cradled her into his lap, and she could feel him hard and thick beneath her. The feeling of him pulled her violently out of the haze of desire. She pushed away from him hard, and in his surprise, he let her go.

Landing with a thump on the floor, she saw they had made it to the long leather couch. Miranda’s face was hot with shame, and she couldn’t look at him. Looking down, she saw he had managed to undo not only her blouse but her bra, and she fumbled to close it again. It didn’t help that her breasts were still heavy and hard with need. A moan of distress escaped her when her hands refused to do what she wanted them to. His hands were there to do up the bra, and she groaned and slapped at his hands. “No, stop it. You have to stop it. I can’t do this. This isn’t me. I don’t have sex with practically random strangers, who are criminals, no less. I’m fucking frigid! My nipples do not get hard at the sight of someone. I don’t fantasize about someone’s dick and get wet just t

hinking about what it would be like to taste him. I can’t even get wet masturbating on my own, for fuck’s sake. No, I can’t do this. You have to stop. Please.”

At last, she managed to work the clasp of the bra back together, but gave up on her blouse. She had only managed two buttons, and they didn’t line up. She looked up at last, begging him to understand.

Declan kneeled in front of her. “Ah, sweetheart, I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Cupping her face, he brought her mouth to his, and she went freely, without any urging. He was the sun and she was so cold at the very idea of being without him. His mouth covered hers and his tongue brushed her lips in a gentle stroke, and she opened to him. Her whole body was on fire, tuned in only to the heat of his mouth and the strokes of his tongue. Her hands were in his thick, silken hair, begging for more from him.

When he broke off the kiss, she was stunned, her breath coming in deep, gasping swallows. Standing, he pulled her with him, and with a hand tight around her wrist, he pulled her after him. Moving slowly but deliberately, he made his way up the stairs to the second floor. She knew without a doubt they were going to his bedroom, where there would be no turning back. Yet she could admit it now: there had been no turning back the moment she met him. Every instinct of self-preservation had screamed at her to get up and walk away from his offer, but need had clawed at her to say yes. Need to taste his mouth, to learn the silk of his skin, to have him deep inside her. That need had been so great, she knew now, that saying no had never been an option.

Miranda’s whole focus was on him, her body was screaming for his touch. When he flicked on the lights, she got the impression of dark brown walls and a black leather king bed. She shook her head. The lights were too much, and he sighed and flicked them back off, and she was relieved again. Then he moved back to her and picked her up and laid her on the bed. He turned on the lamp on the bedside table closest to her, and although she flinched, the light was low enough she nodded her acceptance, and then he moved down to her.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ve been dreaming about your body for three days now and hard every second for you. I need to see you now. So beautiful, so damn beautiful.” Declan trailed a finger over her breast, and he kissed her with hot, savage hunger.

Her hands moved greedily over him, and she moaned with frustration at her inability to undo the buttons on his shirt. Pulling away, he ripped his shirt open and yanked his undershirt off. She grew hungry with the need to learn his body with her tongue. His body was beautiful, honey-brown skin tight over muscle and sinew. A light dusting of hair covered his chest and trailed down in an arrow to the top of his trousers. Her blouse received the same treatment as his shirt, and with a flick of his wrist her bra was opened again, and he seemed to know exactly what she was craving as he leaned down and caught her mouth again and rubbed over and into her body. She sighed with relief and satisfaction, but moaned when his mouth left hers again.

Miranda ran her hands through his thick hair, needing to touch him and bring him back to her mouth. Then she felt his mouth at her breast, and her hands held him in place; she was desperate for more of his mouth on her. He teased her with gentle kisses and soft tongue strokes that made her stomach clench with need. He blew lightly and licked again, and she cried out, “Please, please don’t tease.”

Chuckling at her pleading. “But, sweetheart, it makes it that much better, I promise.” Finally, he sucked her breast into his mouth. His tongue swirled over her nipple as he drew his mouth down and allowed her breast to leave his mouth. As he gave her other breast the same treatment, his fingers continued to toy with her other breast, shaping the weight of her and plucking at her tight nipple. Miranda couldn’t wait, she wanted him deep inside her, needed him there because she was so damn empty.

“Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” Declan asked, as his hand moved under her skirt and stroked lightly down the furrow through the silk, and she moaned his name, begging. “Hmmm, I think maybe so.” Pulling her panties down, his hands grazed her skin, leaving a trail of fire where they touched her. His hand was back, stroking the seam of her again, and she choked out his name. His fingers seemed so large against her, and if she hadn’t been half out of her mind with need, she would have been ashamed at just how wet she was from him. He slipped one long, thick finger into her slick tunnel, and she shuddered with need. “Almost, sweetheart, you’re almost there,” he whispered against her breast before he took it into his mouth and then slipped another finger inside her.

“Now, please!”

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I’ve damned near come twice without being inside you. I need to know your body is ready for me. How long has it been since a man was inside you?”

Thinking wasn’t something she seemed able to do until he moved back up and over her, drawing her mouth to his. It was a flutter of a kiss, and he whispered the question again as he looked deep into her eyes. “Four years. It’s been four years.”