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Speakeasy Sweetheart

Page 5

by Clare Murray


  For a moment she thought he was planning to leave her there, perhaps as punishment for her earlier excursion. Then his head dipped lower, kissing her belly and--

  “Blaze!”

  Briefly his eyes glinted at her above her stomach. “Why not? You did it to me. I swear, baby, you’re the most innocent non-virgin I’ve ever met.”

  Sasha let out a wail of mingled protest and pleasure as his tongue flicked against her clit. He was right—she was innocent for a non-virgin but he was far more skilled than she could ever have expected. She’d certainly never experienced this.

  With her hands bound, she couldn’t push him away. Nor could she control his head. She was completely helpless, writhing in incandescent pleasure, straining at her bonds as he continued his attentions.

  The intensity of his tongue half took her breath away. He wasn’t letting up, wasn’t giving her time to collect herself. She couldn’t control the rush, the sweeping ecstasy that started in her core and quickly crashed through her body. Blaze stayed with her, holding her steady as she whimpered, eyes closed tightly.

  Was he going to untie her now? Half-consumed by aftershocks, Sasha tugged at the leather. It held firm.

  “You took five years off my life this morning,” Blaze said. His biceps bulged as he propped himself above her.

  “It wasn’t a barrel of laughs waiting up for you last night either.” Her gaze strayed downward, admiring his rippled stomach.

  “Giuseppa said you sang.”

  “Maybe I did.”

  “I’m sorry to have missed hearing you.”

  Her gaze went to his face, but she need not have worried. He seemed to genuinely mean what he said. Sasha allowed herself a small smile. “I’ll give you a private concert anytime you like.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “If you hurry up and take off your pants.”

  Chapter Five

  Blaze was tempted to tickle Sasha senseless after what she’d put him through earlier. He loved having her underneath him, helpless to do anything but receive pleasure. He’d tasted her thoroughly, gently holding her down when she just couldn’t stay still.

  He never knew what she was going to say or do next. Her tough exterior belied a surprisingly tender soul within. Blaze suspected she’d been hurt one too many times in her life. He resolved to do a better job taking care of her, even if it meant spending a little less time on business and a little more on pleasure.

  He was certainly on the right track at the moment.

  Freeing her wrists, Blaze tossed the belt aside. Her hands immediately looped around his neck, pulling him atop her.

  Blaze grinned. “What do you want, honey?”

  “You.”

  His grin widened. The girl went all coy during sex. He got the impression she was used to a quick fuck, no bells or whistles, probably in the dark. Well, now that she was with him her horizons would have to broaden.

  “I’m right here. What else do you want?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “Um. You, inside me?”

  Blaze was nothing if not obliging. With one quick thrust he obeyed her request—even if she’d mumbled the words.

  She stoked him up so fast, so hot, that he had a difficult time hanging on to his self-control. He could hardly get enough of her, already mentally picturing her in different positions, in different places throughout the apartment. And once summer was here, he’d drive her to the beach and he’d make love to her on the sand.

  Sasha raised her legs, wrapping them around his waist as he drove harder, faster, thrusting into her as if the world were going to end. Soon she was gasping, ready to climax for him all over again.

  Just as she let out her first cry, Blaze lost all control. He dropped his forehead to her bare shoulder as the waves of pleasure hit him deep. God, she was incredible. Nobody else made him feel this way, had ever caused him to fall so hard so fast.

  The fact that Vincent Cornell was also after his girl just made Blaze more determined to hold on to her. Bellissima, Giuseppa had said. Blaze absolutely agreed.

  He’d seen the girls in Cornell’s club. Most of them were desperate for money, selling their bodies while Cornell reaped the profits. Many were tarnished creatures, shackled to Cornell by dint of the man’s fearsome temper. Cornell murdered without compunction, on the road to becoming a crime boss.

  Blaze looked down at the beautiful woman he was cradling in his arms. He felt fortunate to have gained her trust, maybe even her love. He was very much enjoying being both a teacher of and a pupil to her body, figuring out what turned her on and pushing her to try new things.

  “Where are you from?” he asked. Not around here—she didn’t know the city very well at all. Especially if she’d walked right into Cornell’s goddamn speakeasy.

  “Maine.”

  “Huh. Your grandparents moved pretty far north after emigrating…or was it your great-grandparents?”

  “My…” She paused, her delicate nose wrinkling as she thought. “I think my father’s side of the family was from Belfast and came over just after the potato famine.”

  “My grandfather came out of Dublin. Could hardly understand his accent when he was drunk.”

  Sasha tensed. “Do you drink much?”

  “I like an occasional drink as much as the next man. Downing a bottle of gin a day isn’t my style. Prohibition makes it cursed expensive anyway.”

  He brushed a caress across the smooth skin of her shoulders as she relaxed against him. “My dad was an alcoholic.”

  Was? “Is he dead? Is that why you’re all alone in the big city?”

  She nodded. “I came here unexpectedly. Someone I knew said there could be opportunities for me. I didn’t expect to get involved in crazy problems right away.”

  “I’m not that crazy.”

  “As we discussed earlier, you’re a big problem. Not a crazy one.” She hesitated. “I’m not a problem for you, am I?”

  “No, baby. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

  “Well, I know your priority is going after Cornell—”

  “And protecting you from the bastard.”

  “Can’t you just tell the police what he did?”

  Blaze laughed hollowly. “No. Sean was bootlegging. Cops probably figure Cornell did them a favor by getting rid of another alcohol smuggler. The worst part…”

  She waited him out, not pressuring him as he stared out the window. She deserved the whole truth, not just a partial explanation. Blaze took a deep breath.

  “I was supposed to do the run, not Sean. But I was sick that night. By rights, I should be the dead one. It wasn’t even his idea anyway.” Bitterness choked him, almost as strong as the day his brother had been shot.

  “You were a bootlegger?” Sasha asked.

  “For a year or so, yes. My entire family lived in a Hell’s Kitchen slum. We had to get out somehow. I heard about what Capone was doing in Chicago and decided to get a piece for myself…at least temporarily. We put the profits into creating a restaurant business.”

  “You’re no Al Capone.” Sasha studied him intently. “You’re not ruthless enough.”

  “I’m only ruthless when it comes to Cornell.” And you. He barely kept himself from saying that last part out loud.

  Her stomach growled, lightening the mood somewhat. She looked down, chagrined. “Did you say you bought us some bagels and cream cheese?”

  “Hell, baby. Why didn’t you tell me you were so hungry?”

  “I could stand to lose some weight.” She pinched her stomach. “I’m no movie star.”

  “You look like a normal woman. A beautiful woman. What did you eat today?”

  “I had some garlic bread, and the couple I worked for gave me some tea to drink.”

  Blaze was already up, slicing the bagels he’d bought earlier and spreading them liberally with cream cheese. She followed him to the table. “Tell me about the job,” he commanded.

  “It’s an ad hoc arrangement. They want someo
ne to assist with bookkeeping and understanding the occasional letter written in English. I’m going in next week to organize their records.”

  “You speak their language?”

  Sasha giggled around a bite of bagel. Swallowing, she said, “No. I can’t speak a word of Yiddish. They just need someone patient enough to speak really slowly to them, with lots of hand gestures. They’re new to the city and their only son is busy studying.”

  Blaze watched her as she ate. Despite his earlier worry, he was proud of her for having the gumption to go out and look for a job. The fact that she’d actually found one—even if it was temporary—increased his admiration. He liked a woman who occasionally seized the initiative, even if he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight anytime soon. He had already canceled tomorrow’s plans, opening up the entire day to spend with Sasha. Dougal would understand. Hell, Dougal would probably cheer him on.

  “What do you want to do tomorrow?” Blaze asked.

  “I have fifty cents. Is that enough to go to Coney Island?”

  “You don’t have to spend your own money,” Blaze said roughly. “I’m happy to take you if it’s what you really want to do.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him. “It’s been a long time since I went somewhere just for the sake of fun.”

  Blaze knew exactly what she meant. He hadn’t done “fun” for years. He only hoped that throwing caution to the wind didn’t mean Cornell got the drop on him—on both of them.

  * * * * *

  Coney Island. Sasha sensed Blaze’s excitement, even if he pretended otherwise. He whistled a jaunty tune as he walked in with a bag of fresh bagels. This time he brought lox.

  Sasha rolled her eyes as he brandished the bag suggestively. “If I eat lox off you now, we’ll be stuck in bed half the morning.”

  “Only half?” He sat down and began parceling out the food. His boyish good humor made her smile. Although he wasn’t moody, she’d never seen him this cheerful.

  “I suppose we could experiment with tying you up,” Sasha said.

  He smirked. “Not going to happen, honey. Do you want your bagel sliced in half? We can eat it on the go. Oh—I bought you a new coat. The ocean breeze can be a bit nippy.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Being fussed over was a pleasant change from doing everything on her own. She shrugged into the new coat, glad of its warmth when they opened the door and stepped into the chilly breeze. Sasha tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked down the street, munching bagels as they went. “Is Coney Island a long way away?”

  “Nah. There’s a new subway that will take us there. Been a while since I visited, though. I hear some things have changed.”

  Sasha gave herself free rein to look around as they continued onward. When they reached the subway, it seemed slow compared to modern busses, but the ambiance was just as busy as she remembered. People hurried to get on and off, clutching newspapers and bags. She tucked her hand into Blaze’s pocket as they rode, content to snuggle against him.

  Living in a city wouldn’t be so bad if she lived with Blaze. For that matter, she thought she could cope with existing in the Jazz Age. The creature comforts were still here, just slightly more primitive. And nobody preferred rap music over the blues.

  Besides, what would she miss about her former life? She’d tried hard to get help for her father, but he refused to even think about joining a twelve-step program. Sasha couldn’t help him if he didn’t help himself.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Sasha hesitated, wondering whether to gloss over the sensitive topic. No, Blaze didn’t deserve any prevarication. If she wanted the truth from him, she’d have to ante up, set an example for him.

  “I was thinking about my dad.”

  Something in the way his expression relaxed told her she’d done the right thing by telling the truth. “You missing him?”

  “I miss what he could have been, I guess.”

  A nod. “Yeah, I think that about Sean sometimes. What he’d be like today…if he would have children. That was supposed to be our last bootleg run. What happened to your mother? Is she still around?”

  “She died in a crash after walking out on my dad.” An airplane crash, actually. She’d become a flight attendant, leaving Sasha at home under the pretense that school would keep her more or less stable. Looking back, she couldn’t really blame her mother for leaving her increasingly alcoholic father. But it didn’t make her death any easier.

  Her death had left Sasha terrified of flying. Not as if her phobia would trouble her in this day and age, of course. “What about your parents?” she asked Blaze.

  “They live a few blocks down from Dougal. I’m surprised we didn’t run into them on Saturday.”

  His tone was noncommittal. He was the eighth son, wasn’t he? She wondered suddenly if his parents blamed Blaze for his brother’s death. That would be unfair. Blaze was his own worst critic, holding himself accountable all these years. And his brother and sister-in-law had seemed welcoming enough.

  Sasha had no siblings. Was that part of her apathy toward returning to her own time? Apart from her father she possessed a few aging cousins and an elderly great-aunt. She doubted anyone would miss sending her the annual Christmas card.

  If, that is, she continued to exist at all in the twenty-first century. The thought gave her pause. Should she decide to stay here, would an entirely different child be born to her parents in the future?

  What if Blaze had managed to get her pregnant somehow, despite the condoms? What would she do then? Stay or go?

  Blaze stepped sideways, dislodging her grip on his pocket. He immediately enveloped her hand in his own. “We’re here.”

  Thankful to have that thought process interrupted, Sasha followed Blaze as he led her off the train. His eyes lit up as they emerged into the sunlight. “Boy, this place has changed. Lots of people here even on a Monday.”

  Despite the crisp edge of the early fall weather, there were a fair amount of people indulging in Coney Island’s offerings. Couples strolled along the boardwalk, teenagers played games, and a few hardy souls splashed knee-deep at the edge of the surf. Blaze stood still for a moment, seeming to digest the sights with evident satisfaction. She wondered how long it had been since he’d last been here.

  “I have money to go on rides and buy hotdogs this time,” he said half under his breath.

  “You’re welcome to one, but don’t sit next to me on the roller coaster afterward,” Sasha told him.

  He grinned. “I’m not letting you sit next to anyone else, baby. Let’s go. We can eat later.”

  Carried along by his enthusiasm, Sasha followed as he led the way past eateries and amusement stalls. She gulped. He was going for a roller coaster.

  “I remember when this one was built,” Blaze said, looking up at the soaring tracks. “I always wanted to ride it. But I never had a spare quarter for the admission.”

  Sasha eyed the contraption skeptically, noting the large dips and hills. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “You asked the same about my Cadillac. Are you so worried about my behavior?” Blaze asked innocently.

  Sasha coughed. “I think we’d better try to keep our hands to ourselves in that thing.”

  Blaze paid the admission fee and they walked toward the giant coaster. Along with a few others, they piled into the small cars. Sasha gasped as the ride jerked forward.

  “Are you scared?” Blaze asked.

  “Maybe. Okay, yes. I’m terrified.”

  In high school, all the popular girls rode the scary rides with their boyfriends du jour. Sasha had never run with that group, so she’d simply avoided going on anything more strenuous than a carousel or the bumper cars. Those, at least, hadn’t required a partner.

  “I’ll hold you tight,” Blaze promised.

  As they ascended the first hill, the cars rattling and juddering, Sasha felt some of her earlier worry leave her. She’d never done anything like this before
. The wind from the ocean blew her hair into hopeless tangles. The stress about her growing attraction to Blaze, the fear that Cornell was after her, all of it went away as she was faced with the imminent arrival of the track’s peak.

  The car reached the top, giving them a brief view of the island. Then they rolled forward and she could only focus on the track ahead. Sasha shrieked as her stomach dropped, clutching Blaze’s hand ferociously.

  As the coaster slowed and began climbing the next hill, she realized she was actually looking forward to the next breathless rush. Next to her, Blaze was laughing, the first time she’d ever heard him do so.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked as they finally disembarked.

  “No,” Sasha agreed, taking his hand again. She blinked, surprised at her own response. Usually she’d have said something sarcastic. But Blaze deserved honesty from her.

  Which probably meant she’d have to tell him about the door at some point and hope that he believed her. She grasped his hand tighter, responding to the unspoken fear that she might lose him. Fuck, she really was becoming attached to him, despite the surreal situation.

  At least she knew for certain he wasn’t her great-great-uncle or something. Despite his shortcomings, Dad had taken the time to laboriously piece together their family history. There wasn’t an O’Rourke on either side of her tree.

  Sasha stared at the old—current, she corrected herself—advertisements plastered around. Salted peanuts, some brand of safety razors she’d never heard of, cigarettes. All of it seemed less intrusive than modern ads, especially the ones that jumped out unexpectedly from websites. She could get used to this.

  As they walked down Surf Avenue, Sasha thought she had never felt so alive in her entire life. She and Blaze wandered around, spending nickels here and there to play games. She seemed to have a natural knack for skeeball; he preferred shooting. Finally, worn out from laughing, winning prizes and seeing the sights, they sat down to eat hot dogs together at Nathan’s.

  “Sean used to love these hot dogs.” Blaze stared into the distance. “I can’t believe they opened up the beach and a boardwalk since I was here last.”

 

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