LifeoftheParty

by Trudy Doyle

  He stared at her from across the bed, his face going crimson. “Where do you get this shit from? I loved you.”

  “Because I was pregnant.”

  “Dammit, woman!” He slammed his fist to the bed. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You were pregnant because I loved you. Can’t you see that?”

  “No,” she said, coming around to him. “I don’t believe you. If that were true then why won’t you come in me now? I’m even on the Pill and you still won’t. You come on my dress, my underwear, my tits, in my ass. In my mouth the same way you did with your whores, but in my vagina? Never.” She ripped off her jacket, rushing to the blank space by the side of the door. “Come on over here, Doug. Press yourself against the wall and let me suck your sacred sperm and then you can shove twenty bucks down my tits.” She lifted her skirt, still naked underneath from their tryst in the park, her eyes wild, her nails scraping the plaster. “Come and make love to me like your whore.”

  Rage. Pure and white hot. He lunged at her like an animal, teeth bared, claws out, pouncing. When he landed he was pressing her against the wall, ripping at her clothes, his mouth biting hers. She slapped him, his face, his ears, but he couldn’t feel any of it, so perfect was his anger, so precise his lust. Her blouse came off in tatters, some buttons clattering to the hardwood, two or three bouncing to land silently on the rug. He shoved his hand up her skirt, yanking at her garter belt. She squirmed, stockings running, his hands sliding to her ass, lifting her up. When he ripped her skirt he made his fatal error, freeing her to knee him solidly in the belly. He reeled back and, wind gone, fell to his knees.

  “Ha!” She laughed, triumphant, her candy-red pumps taking a celebratory strut around him. She yanked off her ruined skirt, tossing it into his face. “Look at the big stud now,” she said, bending over. “You’re fucking pathetic.”

  He took a gulp of air, regaining his breath, watching her. Bra, garter belt, ruined stockings, those pumps. That was it and that was too much. When she bent over him, he could see halfway to heaven, when she turned her ass it was Eden. But that pussy, that pussy. A perfect triangle of perfect mystery, what men lusted, fought and died over. He understood it now. Fully. The thought of anyone, anyone ever coming near her sent his blood boiling again. He shrugged off his jacket, loosening his tie, a bead of sweat trickling down his face.

  “Pathetic,” she repeated, crossing her arms. Her fatal error.

  His gaze swiveled upward. He lunged again, knocking her to the floor.

  “Bastard!” she cried, rolling over, squirming loose to climb to her feet. But he was on her in a second, twisting her arm behind her, pushing her face-first into the bed.

  He held her there, squashing her hand to her back with his knee while he shrugged off his holster, while he yanked his tie over his head, while he ripped his own shirt from him. Her legs kicked futilely while he unbuckled his belt. As he unzipped she cursed him repeatedly. He spread her legs and shoved himself inside her.

  She screamed.

  He didn’t care. He didn’t care if she screamed, if anyone heard, if the walls came tumbling down. All he cared was that he was buried deep and she was under him. But it wasn’t enough and he knew it.

  “Bastard,” she whimpered, fingers bunching the quilt.

  He pulled out, turning her over.

  She looked up at him, her chest heaving, her eyes shiny with tears.

  He had never been more ashamed.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his heart clenching.

  “So am I,” she answered. “Over and over again.”

  “Gina.”

  “Kiss me.”

  He fell into her, mouth, body, lips, raising up as she wrapped her legs around him, slipping his cock into her so easily it seemed a natural harbor. As he held her on the edge of the bed he began to move, kicking off his shoes as her candy-red pumps crossed over his ass, sliding his trousers down his legs. He stepped out of them and lowered her back to the bed.

  He fell in deeper, her pussy like velvet, her tightness indescribable. As he fucked her she groaned softly, but he needed to give her more. He pulled up and flicked her bra open, her gorgeously full breasts tumbling out. He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, pulling, tugging, sliding his tongue around the areola until his lips rested just south of it. Then he sucked, burning brand after brand across one breast and then the other, until she writhed and stiffened beneath him, clawing her nails down his back.

  “Gina,” he groaned, kissing her, sucking her tongue, devouring her.

  He had never kissed her like this before. His mouth savaged hers, biting and nipping, her hips arching into his. Then she dragged her mouth away, kissing a trail down his chest to land at a nipple. She sucked it into her mouth, pulling, tugging too, until he felt a burning deep within his groin and he pumped faster, driving deeper inside her. Then she let loose, her mouth trailing again, until she stopped near his right breast, the tiny reminder precariously close to his heart. When she kissed it he froze.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you that morning,” she said softly. “Never until the day I die.”

  “Don’t,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Don’t ever say that again.”

  “I’ll say what I want. Just like this.” She kissed him, whispering against his mouth, “I’ll never leave you again.”

  All at once, his head was spinning. “Gina, dammit, Gina.” He shook it quickly, clearing it somewhat. Then he leaned into her, his heart to hers, the autumn sun turning her face to gold.

  He pushed himself up until his arms nested around her, her chestnut hair spilling about her head, her lips deep red and swollen from their kissing, her face flushed. When her sherry-colored eyes, heavy-lidded and smoldering with heat looked into his, his heart surged with inexplicable joy.

  “I love you,” he said, kissing her. “I always have, and I always will.”

  She gasped, and it was all he could stand. He pushed himself up and pumped his hips, fucking her until she cried out again, her neck arching in climax. Then so was he, his body stiffening, spiraling, blinded by a white-hot spasm of pleasure so intense he collapsed against her, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied every ounce of himself into her. . After a few moments he fell to her side, breathing heavily.

  She smiled, brushing her fingers down his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” he said with a grin. He kissed her hand. “Christ, I love you.”

  “I’m glad. Ecstatic.” She laughed. “Truly. And hungry.”

  “For food?”

  “For food. For everything.”

  Incredibly, he began to harden again. Everything would have to come first. He rolled up, raising himself over her.

  * * * * *

  FIFTH DISTRICT, CITY OF CAMDEN POLICE DEPARTMENT

  DETECTIVE UNIT

  4:46 P.M.

  “So that’s her,” Captain Halchak said, snapping the blind back into place.

  Doug glanced to where she stood, chatting with Stewart as he poured her a cup of hours-old coffee. “That’s her. The infamous Gina Bardone.”

  “Getting along better, I suspect?”

  He tugged at his collar, smug at what lay beneath. “You can say that.”

  “And so can you.” The captain glanced to his desk and the handkerchief Doug was unwrapping. “Whatcha got there?”

  “Someone strolled into Gina’s room while we were at Falco’s office this morning. Left this off the hook. Thought I’d run it by the lab.”

  “You don’t say. Hey, someone called today looking for you. Fellow by the name of Parks.”

  “Oh yeah. Falco’s county campaign manager. Did he say what he wanted?”

  “Only to call him. Something about a list.”

  “From the fundraiser we went to last night. Whoever it is who’s sending those emails, he was there.”

  Halchak perched on the end of his desk. “Narrowing it down then?”

  He glanced out the doorway as Gina
waved. “Oh yeah. In more ways than one.”

  Chapter Nine

  FIFTH DISTRICT, CITY OF CAMDEN POLICE DEPARTMENT

  INVESTIGATIONS LABORATORY

  5:06 P.M.

  “There aren’t any.”

  Gina stared at the technician. “No prints at all? But that’s ridiculous. That phone’s from a public hotel. Unless…” Her gaze snapped to Doug’s.

  “It’s been wiped clean,” he said, finishing her thought.

  She picked up the piece of plastic. “Which is even more scary if you think about it. That someone went through all the trouble.”

  “To leave us now with nothing.” Doug nodded to the man “Thanks, Sid. If you don’t mind, I’d like it if you didn’t mention this.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, sliding a dusting brush into a tube. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  As they walked to the car, Gina latched on to Doug’s arm. “Who was in my room, Doug?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But whoever they were, they were either really stupid or really smart.” He pulled her closer. “You hungry?”

  She nipped his sleeve. “Ravenous. I haven’t had anything in me besides coffee—and you—all day.”

  “Likewise, doll,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “What do you say we take a hop over the bridge.”

  “To Philly?” She looked to the west, the sunset coloring the skyline. “Where shall we go?”

  “I know just the place.”

  * * * * *

  TAVERN 17 RESTAURANT

  RADISSON PLAZA-WARWICK HOTEL—RITTENHOUSE SQUARE

  PHILADELPHIA, PA

  6:05 P.M.

  “Your table’s ready, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Doug looked to Gina. “Shall we?”

  “Oh absolutely.” She rose off the barstool, taking her wineglass with her. “Three sips and I’m already buzzed, I’m so hungry.”

  “Well, we’re going to fix that real quick.” Doug took his wine too, the taste of it so civilized, he hadn’t realized he missed it so much. For so long his alcohol consumption had been as essential as clothing and heat, such a private function his flask had become a permanent part of his anatomy. But since Gina… He wasn’t even sure where it was now.

  He watched her move between the tables behind the maître d’, her hips swiveling around a planter. God, she had such a gorgeous ass. How he’d love to bend her over a table, lift her dress and pile-drive her, right here in front of everyone. He smiled, imagining their faces. Shocked. Amazed. Jealous. She’s mine, he’d say to each and every one of them. She’s mine, and you can’t have her.

  Was she? She did say she’d never leave him. But did she say it out of love or pity? “I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you that morning.” Or guilt. There was that. He could never stand it if it was out of pity, but could he live with her without love? Maybe for right now what was between them was enough. Because he knew damn well he could never live without her again.

  She took a seat at the table, smiling up at him.

  Doug draped the napkin across his lap, scanning the menu. It wasn’t a few seconds before he closed it. “I’ve made up my mind. It’s the porterhouse. Definitely.”

  Gina closed hers as well. “Oh yeah. Beef. I just can’t get enough.” Her eyes sparkled, her hand slipping under the table to his knee.

  He grabbed it. “Don’t start with me, woman, I’m warning you.”

  She slid her hand up to his package, giving it a squeeze. “Oh yeah? What’re you going to do about it?”

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Because there in the dim warmth of the dining room light, as he leaned in and slipped his hand under the table, under the cloak of the tablecloth, he gave her his answer.

  The dress she wore that evening was a vision of sex. Sleeveless with a Roman drape, it was nothing more than a deeply bodiced slink of silk that flowed full-skirted over her trim waist to her knees. He slid his hand up her flinching thigh to the smoldering join of her legs, his gaze fixed on hers. When he found her clit, since wearing panties had long proved useless, she jumped.

  Her eyes flared. “Doug.”

  He leaned in even closer. “You were saying?”

  “I don’t think…” Her eyes fluttered.

  “Don’t. Think,” he murmured, flicking her clit. And flicking. And flicking. Then he slipped his finger inside her.

  She bit her lip, her fingernails digging into the tablecloth, her body as rigid as marble.

  He withdrew, sucked the tip of his finger and straightened, reopening his menu just as the waiter approached their table.

  “Good evening, sir, madam. Can I interest you in anything from our fine wine cellar?”

  Doug held up his wineglass, regarding the ruby-red liquid. “This was very good.” He looked to Gina. “Shall we try a bottle?”

  Her hands slipped to her lap, her mouth opened with nothing coming out.

  “Fine, sweetheart.” He looked to the waiter. “I believe it was a pinot. Could you check with the bartender? We just came from there.”

  “Very good, sir.” The server left.

  He looked to Gina. “You all right, doll?”

  Her eyes flared. “Jesus, Doug! I was still coming!”

  “It’s becoming a regular habit with you, isn’t it?” He tsked. “And here we are, in a public place.”

  She leaned in, gripping his arm. “Oh you are so going to pay for that.”

  He leaned in, kissing her nose. “I can’t wait. But then again, anticipation is nine-tenths of the process, isn’t it?”

  * * * * *

  Gina had no idea how they made it through dinner. If it weren’t for the fact she was famished beyond reason, she would have dragged him out of the room by his necktie, tossed him into the nearest closet and ripped off his trousers. Didn’t help he looked so goddamned fabulous tonight. In nothing more than a plain gray flannel suit. But it was more than that. He had a glow about him. His eyes nearly shimmered, his skin looked flush with health, his smile was never wider. She knew the reason well enough. He looked like a man in love.

  With her. With her.

  He stood, reaching for her hand. When she took it and he smiled, she fell in love with him all over again.

  For the tenth time that day.

  Not that she could tell him. Not yet, anyway. Not until she was sure.

  His arm was around her as they left the restaurant. “I can’t wait,” she whispered, leaning in.

  He kissed her temple. “My thoughts exactly. Hold on.”

  Within minutes, they were at the front desk. “I’d like a room.”

  The clerk looked up. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”

  “Actually, no.”

  The clerk tapped at his computer, then frowned. “I’m sorry, but we have three conventions in town, and everything is—”

  Doug a-hemed, proffering his detective’s shield.

  The clerk glanced to Gina. She smiled sweetly. And back to Doug. “I see.”

  “Special investigation,” Doug whispered, snapping it closed. “You understand?”

  “Certainly, sir.” He tapped some more. “Ah. It appears we have a king room on the Plaza Club level.”

  “Imagine that. We’ll take it.”

  “Excellent. Driver’s license and credit card, please.” A minute more and Doug slid the keycard from the counter. “Any luggage, sir?”

  He pulled a toothbrush from his pocket. “I think I can manage.”

  The clerk’s brow arched. “Take the first elevator to your left.”

  “Many thanks.” He pressed his hand to the small of Gina’s back. “Privilege does have its rewards.”

  She laughed. “You’re a devious little bastard, you know?”

  His hand slipped to her ass as they stepped into the elevator. “There’s nothing little about me, doll.”

  “Really?” She looped her arms around his neck as the door thunked shut. “I think I’m going to need firm evidence of that.”r />
  He pulled her to him, kissing her hard, fast. “Enough with the metaphors. Let me give it to you straight. I’m going to fuck the living shit out of you. Is that plain enough?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, stepping away. “Can you give me an example?” The elevator stopped and she fairly shot out.

  By the time they got to their room, they were both breathing heavily. Doug grabbed the keycard from her and shoved it into the lock. He pulled her inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

  Jacket, tie to a chair, holstered weapon on the night table, shoes flung one foot at a time across the room. She dropping her coat and purse to the floor. They stood facing each other, her hands frantically working his belt buckle, his arms flung around her, unzipping her dress. She pulled out his shirt, unbuttoning as he slid her dress up her hips. She raised her arms, and over her head it went.

  Jungle animal-print bra and garter belt. Stockings. Three-and-a-half-inch black peep-toe pumps.

  Opened Oxford shirt, black socks, trousers unzipped halfway down. Corralling one raging hard-on, ready to split the seams.

  Gina’s eyes flashed to his and she leapt forward, pushing him back to the bed.

  “My turn now,” she breathed, yanking his trousers from him.

  She noticed he too had cottoned to the futility of underwear. He shrugged out of his shirt as she slipped off his socks. He shimmied back to the headboard and braced his muscled arms atop it, spreading his legs slightly, his cock at full attention. As she began to climb on the bed, he stopped her with a lift of his brow.

  “As much as I love the tease, I want everything off.”

  She thumbed her garter belt. “Even this?”

  His cock twitched. “Everything,” he rasped, swallowing hard. “Fair is fair.”