Return to Poughkeepsie (55 page)

Two quick motions was all it took to lift her and free himself. As she slid down his body, he entered her. And she accepted him. He had the pleasure of watching her face register his presence inside her. Beckett bent his knees so he could get as deep as God would allow. She held his shoulders.

“Tell me I’m enough for you,” he demanded. “Can you be with me even though I’m so wrong?” She was satin and warmth. The way she squeezed, he was desperate to move, pound, inject her.

She looked at him. “This is. You are. I can’t do this any more if it’s not with you. So please fuck me straight to hell.”

“Jesus.” Beckett was gentleman enough not to play with words at a time like this.

The bed was too far away, so he knelt again, turning her expertly so she settled on her knees. It was all about the power between his legs, the need that woke heavy for him in the mornings, every morning for years. At first it was only a complete thundering—fast, hard, and deep. He found her breasts and grabbed at them, pinching her nipples while he drowned himself in her. He dragged his hands away from her chest, scorching his way, digging his fingers into her back until he had her hips. He went faster, bringing more friction, more pressure. He was fixated on the sight of it. In and out, he watched as they became one. He found the flair of her hip, her womanly hourglass staggering him. His primal male mind made only pure noise: More. Her. His.

And at last he felt the gathering behind his dick, warning and promising of his release. Beckett sat back on his heels and pulled the knife from her hair, throwing it aside. With his other hand he found her and began the relentless friction that would make her an animal as well. He used his fingers wisely, his thumb never stopping, over and over finding the spot that he hoped made her vision dissolve into pure white. Two other fingers explored the sensitive parts, pinching a bit to make her whimper. Because of his hold around her neck, she could not flail.

“Come, Eve. You know you have to. I’m not stopping. I’m never going to stop.”

A low growl began in her throat, so Beckett picked up the friction—all fingers rubbing and pressing, forcing her to forget herself.

She was sweating now, her back moist against his own sweaty chest. He looked over to the full-length mirror against the wall, and damn it, he could see her. Her body painted against his, nipples hard, breasts taut. Her hands pressed to her stomach, poised and waiting.

And then he felt her release. Liquid against his hand told him she was at absolute peak pleasure. She gasped and screamed.

“Pinch your fucking nipples or I’ll cut them off.”

She did as he asked. Her eyes rolled back into her head. “Pleasepleaseplease,” she begged. And though he knew she had no idea what she was asking for, he did.

At that moment he resumed, fucking her from behind with everything he had. He released her neck and pushed her forward. As she continued to come he flipped her over, manipulating her legs so he stayed within her. And then she was on his floor, orgasm almost done.

Beckett heaved her legs over his shoulders and had at her. No mercy at all: pulling out completely, slamming back in. Inside her was his dick’s paradise, the satin twitching and clenching, the tip of his penis engorged—the sensations took away any good sense he’d had. He knocked off her legs, spreading her wider and used both hands. One he slipped underneath her, fingering the sensitive spots there, while his other rubbed her furiously. And as her orgasm resurfaced, he released all his passion into her.

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.