Leaving Lando

by Mia Madison

  My stomach chooses that moment to rumble so loudly they’ll hear it at the other end of the state. “When’s the last time you ate?” he demands.

  “I had a sandwich.”

  “When, Bree?”

  “Lunchtime,” I retort. “When do you think?”

  “You might not want to get snippy with me when your bare ass is within easy reach of my hand.”

  My clit swells. “Whatever.”

  “Your lunchtime is what? About nine o’clock in the morning?”

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  He mutters under his breath and reverses course, going back to the kitchen. The house is cool, and now that the heat of sex has worn off, I’m getting chilled. When he opens the refrigerator, a draft of cold air hits my ass and I shiver.

  “Sorry, Red.”

  “If you’re going to cook, you could put me down.”

  “I’m getting you a snack. It’ll tide you over until I can cook something decent.”

  The man has a plan, and will not be deterred. Bossy.

  The refrigerator shuts and he carries me back into the living room, where he pauses for a moment. A soft click tells me he’s turned up the thermostat. We go into his bedroom then, and into the master bath, where he sets me down and hands me his robe. “Put that on.”

  Since I’m cold, I don’t argue for once. Instead of the shower, he turns on the taps to the oversized sunken tub. I smile in approval.

  The snack turns out to be cheese and champagne. I have no complaints about that either, or about finding myself a few minutes later in a steaming bubble bath with him. “Mmm.” I turn sideways on his lap and snuggle up against his chest. “I like the way you think, Detective.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” His mouth slants over mine. Like the kiss this morning, it’s endless, patient, seductive. I’m getting far more drunk on him than the champagne.

  My hand finds his cock, stroking him as we kiss. When my soft moans are coming with every breath, he shifts me into reverse cowgirl position and slowly fills me, then leans me back against his chest.

  He can touch me everywhere now, and he does, playing with my breasts, pinching my nipples, nuzzling my neck, teasing my clit, while his hips move just enough to stroke in and out of me. Before long, I’m twisting impatiently, tightening around him, my body demanding more.

  “You heat up fast, Red.”

  “With you, how could I do anything else?”

  I feel his smile against the skin of my shoulder, and then he turns my head and captures my mouth in another deep, drugging kiss. One of his hands tweaks my nipples in turn, while the other goes to work on my clit.

  When the climax shudders through me, he doesn’t stop. He brings me again, and again, and even though I’m riding him, he’s the one in control. Only when I’m thoroughly sated, limp in his arms, does he turn us so we’re on our knees and I’m braced against the edge of the tub.

  He starts off slow, rocking against me. Water sloshes around us, waves cresting against the sides of the tub. Sensation swirls through my veins, like thick golden honey, sending me spiraling up to a distant peak.

  Eventually he goes a little faster, but still keeps his pace deliberate, fucking me with deep strokes that reverberate all the way to my womb. Maybe it’s the warmth, and the water, but this feels so much more intimate than in the kitchen. It’s like I’m turning inside out, parts of me I didn’t even know existed flowering, laid bare for him.

  “Lando,” I moan, putting everything inside me, all the things I can’t say, into his name. And he responds. His mouth brushes my skin, and then he sets his teeth on the sensitive point where my shoulder meets my neck.

  He doesn’t need words to tell me I’m being marked. Claimed.

  Branded.

  He speeds up until he’s fucking me hard and fast, one hand working my clit while he pummels me. I’m powerless to resist the pleasure swamping me, filling me, overwhelming me. My body peaks, then shatters, over and over.

  Then he wraps his arms around my torso, pulls me upright, and leans back at an angle, so I’m lying on top of him and his powerful thighs are holding us both up out of the water. His pace slows again, his fingers still toying with my clit, keeping my system revving.

  “Lando …” This time it’s a plea. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but he seems to understand.

  “Can’t get enough of you, Red.” His free hand skims my belly, then plucks at my nipples, just roughly enough that I clamp down on him. “How am I supposed to stop fucking your sweet little cunt when you keep coming?”

  “Can’t — help it,” I gasp.

  “I know, babe.” He waits me out as my body convulses around him. “That’s the beauty of it.”

  “Can’t take … much more.”

  His hand wraps lightly around my throat. “You can take whatever I give you.” He taps my clit, and it’s enough to send me into another screaming climax, my hips pumping wildly, driving me down onto his cock. “If I could fuck you for a year without stopping, you’d still come for me.”

  I think the man has literally fucked my brains out, because I can barely string words together. But that demands a response. “Conceited much?”

  It comes out slurred, like I’m totally smashed, but it’s not the champagne. It’s him — and he knows it. “I bet you’ve had more orgasms tonight than the rest of your life combined.”

  He’s right, damn him. “Arrogant.”

  “It ain’t braggin’ if you really done it.” His teeth close over the same spot on the other side of my neck; he’s going to give me matching hickeys. I’m coming with every stroke now, my body perfectly primed to respond to his.

  “Beautiful,” he says when he releases me. “Tonight, Brianna, you’re mine. And I’m gonna fuck you in every way possible.”

  Tonight. I latch onto that word, clinging to it like a lifeline. It brings me back to reality, and the fact that the world’s best fuck buddy will never be more. Knowing that, I can be strong, and enjoy whatever the night brings.

  “Do your worst, big boy.”

  “Like to think I’m giving you my best, Red.” He lifts me off his cock, turns me, and lowers me onto him again, so I’m wrapped around him lotus style. “Now let’s bring this home.”

  So we rock together, and I come and come and come, until at last Lando lets go and fills me up, his arms holding me close, his lips at my throat. I somehow feel thoroughly used and utterly cherished at the same time.

  But he’s just getting started.

  8

  Promises

  I make lasagna. It’s an Adamo family specialty, the recipe handed down through the generations, and fuck knows we need the fuel.

  Brianna’s sprawled in the banquette I built into my dining nook, wrapped in my robe, watching me work. Even now, I’m hungry for her, though her eyes are half lidded and she’s as limp as overcooked spaghetti.

  Sure enough, by the time I’ve got the lasagna in the oven, she’s passed out. I lift her carefully into my arms, taking care not to bump her head on the table, and carry her into the living room, where I settle in my recliner with her cradled in my lap.

  Bree stirs, but I tuck her against me and murmur wordless reassurances and she settles again. I turn on the tv and tune it to a game, with the sound down low, then reach for the book sitting on the side table.

  A beeping from the kitchen wakes me. It’s a good thing I set the timer on the stove. Bree’s still out cold, snuggled against me, and my cock is hard as iron.

  I dreamed about her. Again. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I stand up with her and start for the kitchen.

  She wakes and looks around. “Huh?”

  “Just need to take the lasagna out.”

  “I fell asleep. Sorry.”

  “It’s all right; I did too.” I’ve never done that before, held a woman in my arms while we dozed. In fact, I’ve seldom slept with a woman at all, not in the literal sense.

  I put her down by the dining no
ok and go to deal with the lasagna. She doesn’t sit. “Can I help with anything?”

  “You can set the table if you like.” I set the lasagna on the counter and slide the bread into the oven. “Placemats and napkins are over there, silverware in this drawer here.”

  By the time the bread’s done, I’ve thrown a salad together. Brianna’s found the wineglasses without prompting, so I grab a bottle of red. Now I just need to act like a half-civilized human being and get through the meal without fucking her again.

  I knew I’d have a hearty appetite for Bree, but she’s got me feeling more than lust. It’s almost need, as though I could never get enough of her, even if we did transport ourselves to a magical dimension where we could fuck nonstop for a year and a day.

  She’s put our place settings facing each other across the table, which is just as well. I take my seat and ask, “Are you warm enough?” I pulled on some sweats and a t-shirt when we got out of the bath, but Bree wanted to keep my robe on.

  “I’m fine.” Brianna salutes me with her wineglass. “Thanks for cooking.”

  “My pleasure.” I serve her a generous portion of lasagna, then do the same for myself, watching as she forks up a bite. Her eyes close. She moans.

  My cock kicks.

  “This is fantastic.” She takes another bite. “Orgasmic.”

  I stifle a groan. “Do me a favor and don’t use that word right now.”

  That gets me a wicked grin; she seems revitalized by her nap. Finishing her wine, Bree tucks into the lasagna, using her garlic bread to mop up the extra sauce. “Seriously, this is amazing. Why aren’t you running a restaurant or something?”

  “For one thing, a bunch of my cousins are already doing that. And for another, I knew I wanted to be a cop.”

  She props her head on her hand. “Did you always know?”

  “Pretty early on, yeah. What about you? I got the impression from Rome that you and your sisters didn’t plan the bakery.”

  “No, we always loved to bake, but we never thought of making it a business. But then Dad died, and we weren’t making a go of the farm, and that lawyer started hassling us to sell it. It was your cousins Bianca and Anjelica who said we should sell our stuff in town. Without them, we’d still be trying to figure it all out.”

  That lawyer is a man named Ralph Turnbull who works for Bruno Santiago, a brutal criminal who masquerades as a successful businessman. He wanted the Callahan farm to expand his drug business into the northern part of the state.

  I suspect he’s also Zachary Oman’s boss, so nailing Zoma could put us one step closer to stopping Santiago. We know he hasn’t given up his plans for our town; he’s just biding his time. The man’s both crazy and obsessive.

  “So what did you want to do?” I ask Brianna.

  “In high school, I was in a band. So, you know, fame, fortune, platinum-selling records, all of that. But I always figured I’d travel. Get one of those vans and bum around the country, and see as much of the rest of the world as I could.”

  Her tone is light, but she’s playing with her food, not meeting my eyes. Just as well, because for an instant I’m blindsided.

  It makes sense, as independent as she is, that she’d want to travel. I’ve done a bit of that myself, and it’s a good experience. But Bree didn’t say anything about coming back.

  I have no claim on her, and it wouldn’t be right to try to stop her — not that anyone could — if her heart’s set on going. All the same, it leaves me with a hollow feeling in my chest.

  I’ve done my roaming, gotten it out of my system, and now I’m home. Not that I never want to travel again, but I know this is where I belong.

  The thought of Bree leaving, being gone for months, years, maybe forever, is like a kick in the gut. In the few short months since Romero and Jade met, she’s become part of the fabric of my life. And after tonight, I want to see more of her, not less.

  Trying to mask my feelings, I match her carefree tone. “So you’ll be one of those van life people, posting your journeys on Instagram?”

  She shrugs, still not looking at me. “It was just a dream. We’ve got the bakery now.”

  “Bree.” I wait until she meets my gaze. “If it’s important to you, you should do it.”

  Her chin trembles; her eyes grow suspiciously bright. “Hey.” I tug her from her seat, stand to meet her, and fold her in my arms. “It’s okay.”

  “I’m being stupid,” she says in a choked voice.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I always thought I’d ask Quinn to come with me. These last few months, staying with different nonnas, it’s the first time we haven’t lived under the same roof. But we can’t both go and leave Jade with the bakery. She’s got Romero; she’s planning their wedding.”

  I cup her face in my hands. “First of all, there’s no law that says just because the three of you have the bakery, you’re tied to it forever. You started it, you can stop it.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. It exists for you, not the other way around.”

  “Easier said than done,” she mutters.

  “Yeah, but the point is, you can cross that bridge when you come to it. You’re not locked in with no options.”

  “We have a lease. I think we’re pretty locked in.”

  “I’m pretty sure your landlord would understand if something needed to change.” Since their landlord happens to be my cousin Antonio, I feel comfortable saying this. Tonio’s a self-made billionaire, and also a good guy. He’d work with them.

  Bree gives me a wry smile. “I keep forgetting the rules are different in Adamoland.”

  I snort. “Adamoland?”

  “Your family runs this town. Hell, you run most of the damn state. What would you call it?”

  There’s no resentment in her voice, but it gives me pause. “I never really think about it, to be honest. When I look at my family, I see them as individuals, people I know and love and fight with. But you’re right. Collectively, we do have a lot of influence in some arenas.”

  “I’m not complaining. Just saying, most landlords wouldn’t be so understanding.”

  I give her my best Marlon Brando imitation. “One day, he’s going to ask you for a favor …”

  “Shut up.” Laughing, she shoves at my chest, the sadness banished for now. I count it a win.

  “Let’s get the kitchen cleaned up, and we can move on to the next phase of this evening’s entertainment.”

  “Do I get to make dessert?”

  “No, you get to be dessert.”

  Her blush is delightful. “I like baking for you,” she says, uncharacteristically shy, but stubborn.

  “Another time.”

  “You’ve got it all planned out, don’t you?”

  I whisper in her ear,

  “The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

  But I have promises to keep.”

  Bree shivers in my arms. “Are you keeping track of all your promises, Detective?”

  “You better believe it.”

  “I do,” she whispers back. “I do believe it.”

  I mould my hands to her ass and squeeze. “Work fast, Red.”

  9

  Next Year

  A knock sounds at the back door of the bakery. It’s Lando, here to pick me up. He saunters in, gives my ass an affectionate pat, peeks into the goodie bag, and tugs me close for a kiss.

  “Hi,” he says when we come up for air.

  “Hi.” I’m a little breathless, as always after one of his kisses. Even the mild ones leave me boneless.

  “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” I look around a final time, check the closing to-do list, and shrug on the sweater and extra-warm hooded jacket Lando bought me.

  Things have not been going how I expected.

  We didn’t sleep at all that first night together. After Lando fucked my brains out several times over, he made me coffee and took me to work. So there I was, wearing the same pair of jeans for the third
day in a row … but the rest of my outfit was all Lando.

  I had on another pair of his boxer briefs, one of his t-shirts, and a flannel shirt he made me wear under my jacket, which I took off as soon as I got to the bakery so I didn’t melt.

  It was so obvious we’d finally done the nasty that Quinn and Jade didn’t say a word.

  I didn’t mind my lingering soreness; in fact, I relished it. Most of that day, whenever I had a free moment, I played back the memories of our night together, cementing them in my brain. So far, everything was going according to plan.

  That afternoon, I decided not to announce to the entire police department that Lando and I had been together. I messaged him that I’d be a little late with the goodie bag and Jade gave me a ride to Carlotta’s, where I changed my clothes, and then back to the bakery.

  Lando was in the alley in his truck, waiting for me, when I got back. He followed me inside … and we never made it to the police station. After that, he took me home, and we had a replay of the previous night, except he made spaghetti instead of lasagna and we actually got a little sleep.

  It’s been a week now. A week. And he isn’t giving me space at all.

  I was all geared up to play it cool and keep my distance, but Lando won’t let me. Every night, I’m getting my brains fucked out on every conceivable surface and in every possible position. The man is both insatiable and highly creative.

  Not that I mind. At all. But it’s messing with my head.

  Because we aren’t only having sex. We hang out, and talk and laugh and give each other shit, the same as always. He even took me with him to check on Jeeter at the motel. It feels an awful lot like having a boyfriend.

  And then there are those moments when he’s sweet to me, and that door in my heart bangs open. Nailing it shut is getting harder and harder. But I have to find a way.

  Yes, Lando is the best fuck buddy ever, but that’s all he is. He’s never said a word about my wanting to travel, except telling me I should go. And why should he care if I leave? If I disappeared tomorrow, he’d have women lined up ten feet deep to take my place.