Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM) (22 page)

Dan said, “Rachel gave the painting to Brandon and he left, propping the chair in the door for her. He thought she was here having sex with Peter, but she was busy stealing Justin Timberlake. She rolled the bust right out the back door in that oven and loaded him into her car. Pretending to be a victim was pretty smart.”

“Pretending to be a girl was even smarter,” Poppy added.

“She fooled me. Shit she fooled everyone.” I never questioned Rachel, even when I knew the truth about her…condition. Dr. Bronner had certainly earned his five thousand dollars.

Dan came to stand beside me. His shirt sleeve brushed my arm, and I tried to squelch the tiny thrill his touch gave me. “There is no brother. That was her cover. She is Roger, not Rachel.”

“And she tried to kill Bran,” Poppy said. She and Joey stood by the sink. His arms were around her waist, and she was nestled into his body. I was having a hard time adjusting, but I’d survive. Poppy went on, “She wanted it to look like he was the one blackmailing everyone. She was going to get off scot-free.”

Dan nodded. “She was going to disappear and take the money.”

“God what a freaking bitch,” Joey said. “Who’s this chick again? I might know someone who could pay her a visit—”

“That’s not necessary.” I smiled nervously at my cousin, giving him the well-known shut-the-fuck-up look. “We’re letting the law handle this.”

He shrugged. “I guess that’s good too.”

Peter said, “I knew there was something weird about that girl.”

I had to know. I’m sure everyone was wondering the same thing, so I came right out and asked. “Did you…uhm…see her…parts?”

The room grew silent as we waited with bated breath to hear Peter’s response. He stared at the wall clock and flushed to his roots. His silver hair gleamed in contrast. He muttered, “No. I had a…medical problem…which I’d forgotten my, er, medication for, so we called it an evening right after you left.”

Dan coughed into the silence. “Cake anyone?”

We pounced on the cake and coffee, talking about anything except Peter’s erectile dysfunction.

Mallory came near. “Caesar, I want to let you know that the assistant position is open at the Albright, and I’d be quite happy if you took the job. You’d be an excellent fit for the Albright.”

“Thank you, Mallory. I appreciate that. However, I’m going to try a new venture.”

“Me too, Caesar.” Jean lifted his cup and announced, “Here’s to Chad Schumacher.”

I spit my coffee out. Dan calmly handed me a napkin. “
Grazie.
”

Jean went on, “I’ve been commissioned to create a bust of Mr. Potter.”

Shep nodded happily, his platinum hair undulating around his exquisitely handsome face. “I’ll be sitting for that.”

No kidding.

Jean used the flat of his palm to toy with his nipple ring, which was completely unnecessary. “He’ll be doing more than sitting.” He leered. “If you know what I mean.”

“I believe we do.” What a pair.

Poppy stuck her knife deeply into the cake. “So what’s this mean? You two are together now? In public?” She pointed between them with the raspberry-covered knife. “What about
Mr. Potter
? You going to do it, Shep? Gonna let Auntie Cricket and Uncle Beau know that you like to play with boys?”

Shep turned a bright vermillion red. “We’ve been together since that afternoon at the country club. Jean and I.” And fuck me if Jean didn’t actually reach out to squeeze Shep’s hand. I looked to Dan, whose warm eyes watched me carefully. I smiled crookedly at him. Shep blathered on, “I’m sorry, Caesar. I…was upset about Rachel because I’d come to the gallery to see Jean Friday night, it’s true. I didn’t know what happened—and I didn’t want to ruin this good thing by doing something so stupid. I thought I’d let him down.”

Poppy glared at him. “Shep, goddammit, you’re going to have to let Schumacher know the truth.”

“I told Estelle she’s handling it or she’s fired. That’s her job. They’ve splashed my face on every bus and billboard in New York, so I don’t think they’ll let me go. I think…” he grinned sheepishly, “…I think I may have a book deal. It’s a lot of money.”

“That’s my boy!” Jean laughed heartily.

He who is brave is free.

~Seneca

Dan and I crossed the Verrazano Narrows Bridge at seventy miles per hour. Zipped once again in his leather jacket, the cool night embraced me. I let my arms fall on his hips, my hands settle on his hard thighs. My fears, tonight, I put to rest.

The sky was blanketed in yellow haze, but beyond that, the city lights twinkled like the Milky Way. Who needed the real thing when we had this multicolored galaxy spread before us blazing with possibility? It was breathtaking, and outside, at this speed, I felt ready to take on something new.

We only stopped to pay the toll, which was surprisingly cheap for a hometown boy on two wheels, and then we were cruising into Staten Island, following the highway to that now-familiar Richmond Road exit.

We were going to have sex at his house. I mean, where else would we go?

By the time we arrived at the Green residence, my thighs were shaking. I climbed off the Harley gingerly, careful not to fall on the driveway like a fool.

“So. You like the bike?”

I nodded. “I do, actually. It’s more fun than I expected. Maybe I could drive it sometime.”

His mouth twitched. “We’ll see. Maybe. If you’re good.”

“I’m always good, Dan Green Albright. You’re the lawbreaker.”

“So figure it out, Romano. That’s a yes.”

We went into the house, throwing our jackets on the painted banister. My hands were cold and I flexed them, knuckles cracking in the still house.

“Do you want a beer?”

I shook my head, and with a deep breath and a shove, I knocked that new man in my life onto the couch. He smiled, surprised when I straddled his lap, my thighs spread over his. I tried for sexy. “Nope. What I want is to…to… I want…” But Christ, I couldn’t dirty talk to save my life. I could, however, stutter with the best of them. I slumped, my forehead resting against his. “Shit.”

Dan smiled, smug as hell. “What do you want? You want to fuck me?”

“Yes. That. Then I want to take a shower and maybe, if you’d like, I’ll spend the night and we can…do that again in the morning. I brought a toothbrush. And tomorrow you can make waffles.”

“Sure thing. Whatever you want, Caesar. You know that I’m sworn to serve.”

I let my fingers trail through his black hair. “So. I just want to say, before we do this thing, that I think—”

All humor gone, he gripped me by the back of the neck, his eyes narrowing fiercely. “Are you still looking for an excuse not to let this thing happen between us?”

“I’m sitting on your lap, in your house, and I have a hard-on. What makes you think I’m not letting this thing happen?”

He ground his pelvis into me. “I like you sitting on my lap.”

“Yeah. I got that.”

His voice turned rough with honesty. “I have no lies, no secrets, what do you want to know? The scars? Fire. On the job. I got a settlement. I left the force. You know any out cops? No. I didn’t enjoy being the only one, so I took my cash, and this house, and I’m free.”

“Free? Define free.”

Dan’s eyes darkened, his hand lingered on my neck and he drew me in. I plastered my chest against his, gripping his shoulders in my cold hands. His words rumbled against me. “I’m free to start something with this hot piece of ass I tasted the other night.”

“Yeah. Hot, huh? You like my hot piece of ass, Albright?” My face must have flamed purple. Dan’s eyes widened in surprise, but he looked overjoyed. This was fun, actually. “What?”

“Well, look at you. Mr. Dirty Talk.”

“I can be butch.”

“Mmm-hmm. If you say so.”

His dick was pressed into the crutch of my legs and I wormed my hand into his jeans. I whispered, “Let’s take these off you,” exactly as he had to me. His smile tickled against my lips. I licked the seam of his mouth, and he let me in with a laugh.

“You hoping to lead me around by my dick tonight?”

“Something like that.” I kissed him before he could comment, because surely he had something more to add. With one hand I fondled that heavy, big-headed treat swelling inside his jeans, and with the other I fisted his thick hair. I licked and tasted Dan—mint, coffee, chocolate, the night air, the heat of his mouth, the sweet flavor of need. I sucked his tongue, nipped his lower lip and worried his smooth skin. His lips were firm, but giving, and in that moment, he was all those things I most wanted in a lover. The scratch of whiskers against mine, the tight, muscular flesh under my hands, the hairy pits and broad chest, the sharp jaw, the big hand gripping my ass—currently stealing its way into my underwear—that smell of leather and soap, the strength, the physicality. The humor. That irritating smile and the know-it-all wink.

Shit. I had it bad.

He pushed me away, eyes twinkling. “We’ll see, Romano. I may have some other plans tonight. I can’t seem to get enough of this. It’s all I thought about. All day. All yesterday.” His fingers grazed my cleft, reaching deep. His fingertips wanted inside me, and that was exciting and terrifying and electrifying. I’d have to think about it. He murmured against my lips, “Little virgin ass. I feel like it’s mine. Like two days, and damn, you belong to me. I can’t get enough of you.” He leaned in and kissed me again, this time sliding forward. And then he literally tossed me from his lap. “But, hey, I wouldn’t want to stop you from your goal, Romano. Far be it from me to stand in your way.” He offered me that wink.

I sank between his legs, letting him relax into the cushions, and dragged his pants down just enough to let his erection out. It was wide and purple-capped and veined and wet on the top. I gripped that monster in one hand and set his velvety skin against my lips. I was exactly where I wanted to be right now, in this position on my knees, letting him have my mouth. Never, ever had I felt so…partnered. Lead him around by his dick? No. I wanted to lead him by the hand.

I caught his brown-eyed gaze, his expression made my own pants a bit too tight in the crotch, and I drew him into my mouth, slow and steady, tasting his salt. I swallowed and tightened, and he moaned, raw. “That’s it, Caesar, suck my dick. Use your tongue.”

I did. His eyes drifted closed, his soot-black lashes long against his cheek, his mouth tense, his jaw set grimly in that concentrated
please God don’t let him stop sucking my dick
line men get when they want to come more than anything else in the entire world. He thrust sharp and rude into my face. His hands dug into my hair, and for a heartbeat he lost all control. I let him choke me with his cock. Then his hands flopped onto his thighs and he sighed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rough. Jesus. You’re just so perfect. Deeper, Ce. Go deep, baby.”

Since he asked so politely, I took it all. I’d spent the last few encounters with Dan doing my own mumbling and begging, so here was Dan’s comeuppance. He was purring against me. I squeezed around him, one hand slipped down to hold his sac and I set a pace pushing to win. His thighs grew tense and then with a heaving heavy lift of his pelvis—he came hard in a quick squirt of ocean-flavored milk right down the back of my tongue. He spurted his load, his legs trembled, and I quietly swallowed, letting him finish until he slumped back into the couch with a goofy smile on his face.

I laid my head on his thigh, and his hand felt my hair, combing through, stroking me in that sure way of his. He got his breath back, and he hauled me to my feet. He stuffed his soft prick into his pants, and then he winked and kissed me. “You can lead me by the dick any time you want, Romano. Just know that your turn is coming.”

“Promises, promises.” Naturally, my stomach chose that moment to growl. I hadn’t eaten since Poppy’s cake. “But first, I think you should feed me.”

“I thought I just did.”

“You’re such an ass, Albright.”

He took my hand, pulling me toward the kitchen. “Yeah, but if you want it, it’s all yours, Romano.”

LB Gregg began writing in the spring of 2008 at the encouragement of author pal, Josh Lanyon. She never once looked back (although occasionally she looked down and tripped over her own feet). 2009 saw the publication of her best selling Men of Smithfield series.

LB lives in the Connecticut hills with two lazy dogs, three above-average children, and a smoking hot husband who, thank the good Lord, loves to cook.