by Amelia Wilde
I became aware that I was breathing nearly in moans—I sounded like a bear! I made myself stop.
“Don’t stop,” he said huskily. “Give in. Give everything up to me. You have no choice.”
The pleasure of his finger and the jets twisted in waves, in pulses, so relentlessly. The goodness of it filled me, and in a blink of an eye, I felt my orgasm building and I shattered apart with a cry, throbbing with feeling.
He pulled me back away from the jets as my climax subsided. Everything was fuzzy.
“Okay,” he said. “I have to take you.” He yanked me all the way in and hoisted me into his arms and kissed me. “I need to…” He was panting. “Come on.” He carried me up the hot tub steps, out of the water, and across the suite, both of us dripping.
“Do me, fuck me any way you want,” I said, kissing him as he carried me. He banged my feet into a wall.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I’m not.” I could’ve lost half my leg and not cared at that point. He carried me the rest of the way down the hall and threw me down on the bed. He went up on his knees, cock erect, watching me wildly. He really did seem a bit wild, actually.
I rolled over and grabbed a condom from the nightstand and turned back to him, but before I could open it or put it on him, I just went to him and took his cock in my mouth, clutching his butt cheeks hard, taking him all the way to the back of my throat.
“Baby!” he said.
I sucked and tongued him creatively, then I gripped the base of his cock nice and hard and did him with my mouth and hand at the same time. He thrust into me, over and over. Then, with an almost animal force, he grabbed my hair and pulled me off him. He didn’t have to say it twice.
Not even once.
I ripped open the condom and put it on him. Then I lay back and let myself be an offering to him, spreading my legs wide to him—I cared about nothing right then, nothing but being taken completely.
He stayed there on his knees, watching me, like part of the fucking was to just revel in the look of me, submitting utterly to him.
It was a very wonderful part of the fucking—being so crazy turned on and knowing he was coming to me.
And then, with a stormy expression, the look of a man not in full possession of his senses, he crawled over me, all six-foot-whatever of muscular testosterone. He positioned the head of his fat cock into my opening, guiding himself just so, and drove in.
I sucked in a breath. He was so huge; it was this intense sensation with him, heading just to the edge of pain. I loved how it felt, the surprise of driving fullness.
He pulled out and drove in again.
“I can’t stop,” he said, ramming into me hard, again, again. “I can’t stop, Ice, I feel like…”
“Then don’t,” I said, reveling in the intensity of being pounded by this thoroughly out-of-control man. “Fuck me, take me. Just…fuck me.”
He drove into me relentlessly, and then a cry wrenched out of him, wrenched out the feeling from the depths of him. He stilled, cock pumping inside me, then he collapsed on me, panting.
I held him against me, one hand on his back, one on his hair, held his head to my shoulder.
I listened to his breathing—fast, like he’d been running. His breathing was the loudest sound in the quiet of our bank robber hotel suite.
I held him and listened, wondering how he’d become this guy. Who he’d lost, what he’d lost. A criminal, he called himself, with hate and anger. But he’d once been a doctor.
“Fuck me, take me, just fuck me,” he said. “Somebody needs dirty talk practice.”
I pushed him off me. “Fuck you,” I said, and he laughed.
Odin and Zeus came back late that afternoon. They were thrilled with the catfish sandwiches, which were apparently a delicacy for bank robbers. They seemed unalarmed by Thor’s having stolen a car for us to drive on errands, though I couldn’t help but notice that Thor didn’t tell them about the driving-in-front-of-a-cop-while-orgasming caper.
Was that whole incident really just another way an outlaw acts like an outlaw? Not important enough to mention?
Or was it something he preferred to hide?
Odin and Zeus talked about their day. They were feeling good about what they’d seen—roads, alarm company, security, routine.
Zeus said, “What really gets my dick hard is the way Odin’s traffic light disruptors work.”
“We took control of a light just on a drive by,” Odin said. “Fucking-g thing of beauty.”
“Lucky we didn’t blow them on the Baylortown job.” Thor tilted his head at me, eyes twinkling. “Oh, right, there aren’t traffic lights there.”
I hit him. He caught my wrist and kissed my hand.
We feasted and drank a lot that night, the four of us. Room service carts were wheeled in and wheeled out, hot tub baths were taken. It was quite the drunken bash.
After about my fifth glass of champagne, I decided to model more of my new underwear, happy I’d saved most of it from a bath.
Zeus acted aloof about my getup—he was in some kind of strange, smoldery mood, but Odin took one look at me and slowly took off his glasses, which got me crazy, as usual. He stood and stalked toward me.
I backed away until I hit a corner.
He kept coming until he mashed right into me.
It really was a kind of dance with these guys, and I loved every step of it. Odin trapped my hands above my head in the corner, mauling me deliciously, then he picked me up and brought me into another bedroom and we fucked, with Thor playing a fabulous supporting role.
Right afterwards I noticed the tattoos on both their ankles.
“What is that? Clouds and lightning?” I asked, squinting as Odin pulled his pants back on.
“It’s nothing. Let’s get back to Zeus,” Odin commanded.
I liked that they had matching tattoos, but I could see they didn’t want me making a big deal out of it. I jumped up and quickly changed back into everybody’s favorite sundress.
We went back out to find Zeus smoking a joint, dancing all by himself to Gonna be Starting Something—yes, the Michael Jackson song. He’d used this interlude to put together a special playlist. Thor and Odin joined him in the dancing.
I watched the three of them, filled with a kind of awe, thinking that when guys can dance around to an oldie like Michael Jackson with total abandon and still seem powerful and dangerous, they really have reached the far end of the tough-guy spectrum. Michael Jackson! These were my kind of bank robbers.
“Come on,” Thor called.
I jumped up and joined them. We danced while drinking champagne straight from the bottle. I was so getting into this outlaw thing.
The next song was Beat It also, of course, by Michael Jackson. I put on my new wig of long brown hair—Thor and I had picked it up thinking about the heist—and it gave me the opportunity to swing my hair to the music, a pleasure I’d lost when we’d cut mine off.
When Elton John’s Saturday Night’s All Right for Fighting came on we all four danced like crazy people, and my bandits even seemed to know most of the words. I got up and danced on the coffee table, and then Thor took his turn to do a special dance on the table, and then Odin did a strange sort of athletic dance later. We were all laughing. Even grumpy Zeus laughed a bit, though he refused to get up on the table and dance, much as we all begged.
I sighed, thinking it was so sad, Zeus not dancing or taking part in our dirty fun. I eyed the latest set of flowers he had destroyed, petals ripped in half and left in little mounds near the vase, which contained only stems. Apparently not all the room service waiters had gotten the memo about bringing flowers to our room. It made me want to cry. Then again, I was totally bombed.
Later the subject was robbery. “It’s ninety percent nerve,” Thor said to me after the waiter had delivered a cart with a pyramid of chocolate candies. “Bank robbery is ninety percent nerve, and the nerve makes the magic.”
I teased him about being new age-y. A
new age bank robber. That almost got me a spanking punishment, but it was quickly commuted to the withholding of chocolates. I took some anyway and we wrestled around, fighting over them, and eventually Zeus threw Thor in the hot tub. My badass Peter Pans were all about the decadent criminal lifestyle.
The next day we were all hung over and subdued, and Odin and Zeus did a bit more surveillance, and there were some practice runs. And that night, the eve of the robbery, my bandits behaved like monks. They ate healthy meals and they went to bed early without sex. They pulled into themselves, each in his own way. Marshaling their inner reserves, I suppose.
Something Zeus said made me think that this was their usual pattern—a night of wildness two nights before a robbery to blow off steam, but a night of good behavior right before the robbery.
Suddenly it was the next day, and we were on our way to knock off another First City.
Thor had convinced them to let me babysit the car outside the bank, swearing up and down I had the nerve for it. Zeus was weird about it, like there was something voodoo about me taking Venus’s place as car sitter, even temporarily.
But really, what if somebody double parked and screwed up their escape? So he relented. They were such pros in so many ways, but when you lifted the corners, they were all a little bit wounded.
I knew how they were going to pull it off—the four of us had had a lot of discussions about First City procedures and I felt like I’d really helped them refine their ideas. It would be a cinch, but still, I was pretty apprehensive.
Thor stole a different car for the job—an old Thunderbird—and not from the hotel parking lot. The idea was that we’d ditch it and switch to the van on the other side of town; the van was waiting for us, all tricked out with compartments.
So there I was, driving my guys in a stolen car, wearing the brown wig over my short platinum hair, and gloves, of course, because my fingerprints were on file, being that I’d been in the banking industry. I had my own throwaway phone in my pocket. I felt like a real bank robber.
When they’d robbed my bank they’d blown up two cars and set smoke bombs, creating chaos to aid their getaway.
This time, they were going for the traffic light chaos—Odin had created little electronic impulse-emitting devices for placement on lights; these devices would throw the timing off. He’d jogged around town putting them on there at dawn. They’d also messed with the back parking lot cameras.
They wore their fine business suits, and Thor put on the earpiece that let him monitor police communications. I let them off in different areas—Zeus would go in alone first, then Thor and Odin would go in together afterward with Starbucks cups as their props, like colleagues out for a midmorning coffee run.
After I dropped them off, I drove around the block once, as we’d practiced the day before, and pulled into one of the secluded spots in the back, almost in an alley.
We’d identified this place ahead of time.
I let the back door hang open an inch, so that it would be easy for Thor and Odin to get in, and positioned myself between the seats in the front so that I could slam into the passenger side quickly and let Zeus take the wheel, but still with access to the driver’s side if I needed to maneuver the car for any reason.
I would be such a good partner to them. But it would be bad if I could never go home. That is not something I wanted.
I waited, heart pounding, engine running.
A few bank customers went in the back way—most FCNs have front and back entrances.
I was to call if I saw cops.
They’d estimated the robbery would take seven minutes.
At minute eight, I started freaking out. No cops entered, and I heard no gunshots, but a lot can go wrong in a robbery. Never had I realized quite how much could go wrong, in fact, until I was sitting there in minute nine, thinking of all the ways.
And then the door opened and my three guys came walking out—fast—carrying bags, wearing their masks.
I opened the driver’s side door and slid into the passenger side. Zeus buckled up and they all tore off their masks and we were off, gunning through the alley and out onto the street.
“A second robbery. That should result in some fucked-up publicity for your old boss,” Odin said. “And you’re going to be happy with our take.”
Thor said, “Very happy, Ice.”
“Sounds to me like some naughty tellers weren’t keeping their second drawers light,” I said.
Zeus rolled down the window. Cars jammed the streets, honking, but mostly the routes to the bank were affected. They’d chosen the Thunderbird for its pick up. If we had to run, it would be in the Thunderbird.
We rolled out of the business district, not talking. I had this feeling it was too easy, but I didn’t want to jinx things by saying that aloud.
We parked around the corner from the van—illegally, but hey, that’s the luxury of a stolen car—and got out with the money in bags and briefcases.
We headed into a department store, splitting up inside—Thor and I pretended to be a couple looking at shoes, Odin and Zeus wandering on their own.
This, too, we’d practiced the day before.
The entire escape plan was completely different from the one they’d used with my bank. My guys seemed far more worried about anybody making a connection from one bank job to another than about outwitting the cops on any single job.
It made me so sad to think that after this I’d be dumped in a truck stop in Nevada. Blindfolded. Furthermore, Thor had told me we’d have to fuck up my haircut, otherwise people would know it was professionally done. “If your story is that we kept you blindfolded and drugged most of the time, your hair has to look like we cut it ourselves,” he said.
At least I got to keep the color—the stylist had left a bit of roots. The hair color version of pre-ripped jeans.
Out the corner of my eye I saw Zeus heading for the door that led to the street the van was on. Then Odin.
“They’re out,” I said.
Thor took my hand and we wandered toward the exit, out onto the sidewalk, and into the back of the van. Zeus and Odin were in the front, as usual.
We headed out to the highway, took a curlicue, and hit I-59 going northwest.
The mood loosened once we were zooming along.
Odin boasted about what fucking-g awesome robbers they were, one of his favorite hobbies.
Thor counted up the money. Let’s just say many Paris Hilton comforters would soon be ordered.
That’s when the trouble started.
11
At first it was just Zeus not liking a car behind us. Evidently, it’s hard to tell if a car is following you on the highway; the only way is to slow down or take an exit.
Zeus slowed.
The suspicious car slowed.
That got everyone’s attention.
My stomach twisted in knots. “You think it’s the cops?”
“No,” Zeus said ominously.
Oh. The other guys. The ones they were actually scared of. Odin and Thor argued about taking the upcoming exit. They pulled out their phones, scanning special maps that I didn’t have on my phone.
Odin suggested the exit after. It was a better place for bailing, he thought. There was a flea market. An antique car show event next to it. Some kind of fairgrounds that would be good and busy.
“Fuck if we’re bailing,” Zeus said. But he took the exit.
So did our tail.
Thor sucked in a deep breath, sat straight, belted in. “Put your wig back on, Ice,” he said.
As if on cue, Zeus took a violent U-turn and then gunned the engine.
“Crap!” I grabbed the door handhold, shoving on my wig.
Thor continued, unperturbed by the car chase. “Zeus can probably outrun this guy, but you may need to bail with us. You can’t let them catch you. And you have a good chance to get away, because it won’t be you they’re focusing on. It’s us they want.”
I gripped the handhold more t
ightly as the van careened around a corner. “Can I help? If it’s not me they want?”
“No. And don’t try. It’s better for all of us.” We swung around another corner, tires screeching. “Don’t look out there,” Thor said. “Look at me, and try to relax.”
“Are you saying that because I’ll have less chance of being injured in a car crash if I’m not tensed?”
“Yes,” Thor said. “That’s kind of why.”
“What? But telling me that counteracts it, right?”
He grinned sadly. Was he just trying to distract me?
“How bad is this?”
“Do we have skills?” he asked.
“They must’ve staked out the van,” Odin said from the front as Zeus sped up ominously. “This isn’t even the robbery, it’s the goddamn van.”
“What I wouldn’t give for those fuckin’ eight cylinders in that T-bird goddammit,” Zeus growled, turning again, practically tipping us over.
“Fucking-g American pussy van,” Odin muttered.
“I don’t want us to die in a car,” I said.
“You won’t.” Thor grabbed my hand. “If we bail, you just concentrate on getting out of sight and finding a hidey hole. Then you ditch that jacket and that wig and forget about us. Remember our story? You’ve been drugged and blindfolded for two or three days.”
“Right.” I nodded.
“You don’t know how long it’s been,” Thor continued, “and you don’t want to talk. Remember how we talked about how you don’t have to say shit?”
I nodded. I didn’t have to say shit.
I couldn’t believe this might be the end for us.
I wanted to say something poignant to Thor, to all of them. I wanted to say what they meant to me, but I didn’t know how.
It was huge, what they meant to me. Maybe too huge. They’d shaken my life out of its stupor. But it was more. They’d shown me that home could be many different things.
The ride turned bumpy, like we were going over railroad ties or something. Or maybe it was the van.
Odin said, “There’s a DD south of the city. That’s our meet-up spot. On the sevens at the seven.”