One Flight Stand: A Bad Boy's Baby Romance

by Kim Linwood

  “You should be more careful who you work for,” the cop throws out casually. “There’s a lot of bad folks in this town.”

  Right, and if he knew who I was he’d probably think I was one of them. My response is dry. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

  He shrugs and pulls out his phone, ignoring me.

  God, my stuff. I didn’t have it on me at the reception and never thought to grab it. On the bright side, my phone isn’t getting its waterproofing tested, but it’s probably gone with my purse into an evidence locker somewhere. Great.

  The front door of the building opens, and the woman from the window greets Montana. She pats his arm and nods, peeking around him at the police car. I don’t think she’s very tall anyway, but next to his bulk, she looks tiny.

  After a brief conversation, Montana returns to the curb and opens my door. “We’re good to go. Thanks for waiting.”

  “No problem. Good luck with the honeymoon fund.”

  As the car speeds off, I follow Montana up the steps, wincing as the hospital booties the EMTs gave me aren’t doing much to protect my feet. At the top, his neighbor’s waiting just inside the door.

  “This is Emilio’s girl?” She grabs my hands. “You get her upstairs and into a hot shower, she’s ice cold! But bring her down tomorrow for breakfast. I want to hear everything.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says fondly. “Andrea, this is Mrs. Gallo. Mrs. Gallo, this is Andrea.”

  “I don’t understand why they gave you a boy’s name,” she says with a little frown, “but you turned out pretty enough that I suppose it doesn’t matter. You take care of my Monty.”

  It’s all I can do not to burst out laughing at expression on Montana’s face. I nod with a barely straight face. “Until death do us part.”

  Her eyes narrow, pinning me in place until she’s sure I mean it. That’s one mean gaze. I’m starting to see why she seems to intimidate even Montana. She turns and shuffles down the hall. Just before she disappears into her apartment, she turns. “Breakfast is at nine.” Then she’s gone.

  Montana rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. The man just helped me escape a police raid, a submerged car and a half dozen cops, but he’s flustered by an old lady.

  I like it.

  “Going to show me the way, Monty?”

  “If I do will you promise never to call me that again?”

  I shake my head, the ends of my half-frozen hair rustling. “Not a chance.”

  “Didn’t think so,” he says with a melodramatic sigh. “Top floor.”

  Following him up the stairs, I smirk. The way too small sweatpants hug him tightly. “Nice ass, husband.”

  Husband. That sounds nice.

  He swats the air behind him. “Stop objectifying me, woman.”

  “But you’re such a nice looking object.”

  His deep chuckle echoes in the stairwell.

  Mrs. Gallo’s key unlocks his door. He throws it open, but before I can go in, he sweeps me right off my feet. Literally.

  I squeak in surprise. “This is getting to be a bit of a habit,” I say with a laugh.

  “It’s our wedding day. Did you think I’d let you just walk over the threshold?”

  His words send a tendril of warmth worming its way into me, pushing away some of the chill from the lake. I’d forgotten about that tradition. In fact, so much has happened today, you’d think the wedding was a week ago. A year ago.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and press my cheek against his broad chest while he easily carries me into the apartment. Using his elbow, he flips on the lights, but he doesn’t let go of me.

  “You can put me down now, you know.” I look around curiously. It’s not a big place, but it’s nice. Homey, in a half-empty, bachelor pad, no throw pillows on the couch sort of way.

  “Nope.” Ignoring my kicking legs, he carries me straight to the bathroom. Finally, he puts me down on the closed toilet seat.

  I arch a brow at him. “How romantic.”

  He shrugs. “It takes a couple minutes for the water to heat up. Not sure about you, but I’ve had enough of cold water for today. If you want to hop right in, be my guest.”

  I can’t really argue with that. “Good call.”

  He turns on the shower, then kneels in front of me, putting himself between my legs and stroking a hand up my thigh. “Defrosting you in this crappy old bathroom isn’t exactly how I imagined our wedding night.”

  “What was your plan?”

  “Well, if you showed up…” He laughs and the corners of his eyes crinkle sexily. “We were supposed to leave for Italy tonight along with Marc and a couple of other people.”

  “Italy? Nice! A combined honeymoon slash get out of town trip?”

  “Pretty much.” His hands move up from my legs, working their way under my enormous sweatshirt. He throws me an apologetic look. “Doesn’t seem like Italy’s in the cards tonight, though.”

  I lick my lips, all too aware of when his fingers start stroking my sides. Is the water hot yet? Because I’m definitely warming up. “Maybe… we can think of something else to do.”

  “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  Montana pulls up the sides of my sweatshirt, and I raise my arms so he can slip it off. The sweats didn’t come with underwear, so as it hits the floor, I’m left bare above the waist.

  Taking the opportunity, he leans forwards and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. I gasp at the sudden assault of heat. Tingles race from my breast, straight down to my core.

  “Shit. I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you in your wedding dress.” He kisses his way across my chest to the other breast. “You looked fucking gorgeous. Too bad it’s gone. I totally wanted to fuck you in it before I peeled it off.”

  I run my hands through his hair and trail my fingers over the trim beard covering his jaw. “You know, in a way this is pretty fitting.”

  “Hm?” he hums, sending a sexy vibration up from my nipple.

  “This all started in a cramped bathroom, after all. And here we are again.”

  He sits back on his heels and laughs. “Stand up.”

  When I do, the first thing he does is grab the sides of my sweatpants and yank them straight down. I let out a little shriek of surprise, but pull my feet the rest of the way out of the pants. “Jeez, you’re eager.”

  “There are strict rules in this bathroom. No police clothing allowed.”

  “Oh? Then why am I the only one who’s naked?”

  Montana’s lips stretch in a lazy smile. “Because I’m the dirty cop, and you’re my prisoner.”

  “Kinky.” I step forward, rubbing my breasts against his chest. “But…”

  His gaze focuses way below my eyes, and his hand slides up my side to cup me. “But?”

  I crook my finger to bring his attention back up. “But I think it’s because…”

  “What?” he asks, dipping his face to my neck to kiss my shoulder. His other hand explores my ass.

  “I think it’s because—” I quickly grab the hem of his sweatpants and yank hard, dropping into a crouch. They stop trapped across the tops of his thighs, making me laugh. “Because you can’t get out of your clothes without scissors.”

  With his help and a good bit of laughter, I peel his pants down his thighs. I’d meant to pull them all the way down, but when his cock bounces out, hard and ready for action, I get a little distracted. I wrap my fingers around his girth, loving how he shudders.

  “God, that feels good.”

  “This?” I ask, stroking gently.

  “Yeah, that too.” He winks, then pulls me to my feet. I never let go, but let him back me up towards the shower.

  It’s one of those open showers, where the whole room is tiled, and there’s just a little lip on the floor and a curtain on a track in the ceiling. Montana pulls it back and I step in.

  As soon as the hot water hits my skin, I melt. Liquid warmth flows over me, finally driving away the last of the bitter chill that s
eemed hell bent on never letting go. My hand stops moving on him and a moan slips out of my mouth.

  His cock twitches. “You are so fucking sexy, you know that?”

  “Can’t talk. Warm.”

  That doesn’t mean I don’t watch the show through half-lidded eyes as he works his sweatshirt over his head, revealing his powerful torso. Every inch of his golden skin is perfect, from his bulging abs to the trail of dark hair that leads to… more perfection.

  He peels the pants down the rest of the way and kicks the clothes to the side. “Is there room in there for me?”

  “Maybe if we squeeze together real close.”

  He laughs. “I’ll give it a shot, and we’ll see how it goes.” He steps into the shower, closing the curtain around us and tilting the water so it’s aimed a little to the side. His cock bobs between us, as ready for me as I am for it. For him.

  My back hits warm tile as his hands run down my body, and his fingers bury themselves between my legs. He moves them in smooth motions, sometimes slipping inside me, sometimes just teasing before flicking over my clit. He winds me up, backing off before I come, only to drive me right back to the edge.

  Never mind the heat of the shower. It’s got nothing on him.

  “So good,” I murmur, clinging to his muscular arms for support as my hips buck against his talented fingers.

  There’s only so much I can take. He doesn’t back off soon enough, and then everything goes white. As the tips of my nails dig into his skin, he hisses, but his fingers move even faster. They strum my clit like a guitar string, making me sing. The sound of the water isn’t enough to drown out my cries in the small room.

  I come hard, shuddering in his grasp. He doesn’t stop, and neither do I. Eyes closed, I let him hold me while I fall back down to earth. It takes a long time before my legs are capable of keeping me up on their own. Montana has an annoyingly smug look on his handsome face, but I can’t even be mad. He deserves to.

  Wow.

  I take a moment to gather myself before I look him right into his smoldering dark eyes. “It’s my turn to play.” I grab a washcloth off a hook on the wall and squirt some bath soap onto it.

  Never looking away, I work the cloth until it’s nice and sudsy, then wrap it around his length. Beads of warm water run over our skin, and I can’t resist the temptation to lean in and flick my tongue at the drops making their way around his dark, flat nipples.

  I slide the cloth over his balls, stroking them and the area right behind as he parts his legs, giving me room to explore. Soap bubbles run down his legs, swirling on the floor until they disappear down the drain.

  The dusky head of his cock glistens, as delectable as a juicy plum. I drop to my knees and take him into my mouth, making sure to keep my eyes on his the whole time.

  “Fuck,” he says in a deep growl.

  I tease the sensitive ridge under the head. “That’s later.”

  He chuckles, and buries his fingers in my hair as I take as much of him as I can fit, my hands making up for the rest. Montana’s skin tastes clean and fresh with a hint of salt. His shallow thrusts find a rhythm with my bobs, and it’s not long before my jaw is stretched tight and the hint of salt turns into a taste of him.

  “Almost there, princess. Your tongue’s driving me crazy.” His words come out between moans and hissed breath.

  Redoubling my efforts, I suck harder, letting him control the movement. While I tighten my lips around him, I stroke his underside with my tongue.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chants softly.

  I look up and our eyes meet. With a groan, he loses the fight against sweet inevitability. His essence floods my mouth, and I let him watch as I lean back and swallow, licking my lips.

  He’s got an amazing smile. “Jesus. You’re amazing.”

  “We’ve got all night, right?”

  He pulls me to my feet and crushes me to his dripping chest. “We’ve got forever, if we want it.”

  Snuggled tightly against him, I nod.

  I do.

  50

  Andrea

  I wake up in the middle of the night, heart racing. Something’s beeping, and nothing looks familiar. Even the smells are wrong. Where am I?

  The bed shifts, and a heavy arm goes around my waist. Montana turns his sleepy face my way. “What is it?”

  Deep breath. I’m in a Caporossi safe house. In bed. With Montana. “I heard something from over there.”

  He gets out of bed and crosses the room to the window. Light from the street illuminates him from behind. Even after our time in the shower, and then making love in his bed, the sight of him warms me from within. I stroke my hand over my stomach as I watch my husband.

  Husband.

  My life has changed so much in such a short time. It hardly seems real.

  “It was my spare phone. Marc sent a message to let us know he and Evie are alright.”

  The sheet falls into my lap as I sit up in bed. “Did he say where they are?”

  “No, just that he’d be getting in touch tomorrow.” Montana crawls back into bed, and pulls me down next to him so I’m snuggled into his side.

  I run my fingers over his chest, teasing the fine hairs scattered over his pecs as I listen to the sound of his heart beating. My body is warm and comfortable, but my brain won’t stop running over everything that’s happened. Montana’s breathing slows, and I eventually pull away, not wanting to keep him up just because I’m feeling restless.

  He follows, the naked length of him stretching out behind me. “Can’t sleep?” he whispers into my hair.

  I shake my head. “Too many thoughts in my head. Are we safe here? You gave the police this address.”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll move out. This place is meant for this kind of stuff. Mrs. Gallo knows how to handle them. As far as they’ll ever know, we were never part of either the DiFiero or Caporossi families.”

  I nod. My family has places like that too. “Look, I’m sorry for keeping you up. Go back to sleep, you don’t have to—” He reaches around and cups my breast, interrupting my train of thought.

  I’ve never been frigid or shy in bed, but the chemistry between us amazes me. He looks at me and I want him. He touches me and the want turns to need.

  I arch into him, my ass snug against his groin, where his cock stirs to attention.

  “You feel so fucking good.” His breath is hot against the back of my neck.

  I hook my leg over his, pulling him closer. His leg slides between mine, and I grind myself into his thigh. Montana slips a hand between my legs and his fingers dive into my wet slit.

  One hand tugs on my nipple as the other circles my throbbing clit. Behind me, his erection slides between my ass cheeks, hot and a little slippery from our combined juices. As much as I want him inside me, it feels so good I don’t want him to stop, either. Encircled in his arms, I move in a sinuous rhythm, seeking touch everywhere at once.

  A twist of my hips leaves his cock lodged against my ass. I freeze as hot spike of need wars with a good dose of nerves and guilt. Montana holds the pressure but doesn’t push for more. Instead, he slips two fingers into me and fucks me slowly with his hand as I figure out what I want.

  “This is your wedding night, you can have anything,” his deep voice rumbles suggestively.

  I’m glad it’s dark, because I probably look like a horny deer caught in the headlights. “What if I don’t know what I want?”

  He chuckles. “Then we keep trying until you figure it out.”

  “I…” The words catch in my throat. “I want you to fuck me.”

  “Where?” His fingers drag across my clit as his hardness teases me from behind. “Here?” He parts my labia and thrusts his hand back between my legs.

  I gasp and buck against him. “Yesssss,” I hiss.

  “Or here?” Excruciatingly slowly, he slides his cock between my thighs, and then presses it against my ass, slick with my own juices.

  “No,” I whisper, but that isn’t q
uite true. “Not yet.”

  It’s dark and quiet except for the sound of our heavy breathing as he shifts forwards and slides home. And that’s exactly what it feels like, as if we’re meant to be connected like this, his pulse buried deep inside me.

  Montana’s one arm is curled across my chest, his palm pressed over my collarbone. His other holds my hip still as he thrusts. “Play with yourself for me,” he growls into my ear.

  Tentatively, I bring my hand between my legs. First sliding my fingers lower and enjoying the slippery drag of his cock through them as he pushes into and out of my body, then moving them up to stroke my clit.

  My breathing speeds as I follow his orders. Self-conscious to start, but it doesn’t take long before I forget all about being shy. He feels so good.

  “Harder,” I beg, needing just a little more.

  His arm tightens, locking me against his chest while I circle my clit and he drives deeper and faster. He whispers harshly, “Come for me.”

  And that’s all it takes.

  My inner muscles lock down around him as I ride out my pleasure on his cock, moaning and squirming in his arms. Tingles race up and down my skin and inside me, everywhere at once. He slows down gradually, not sliding out until I’m completely boneless.

  “Turn over,” he orders, helping to pull me up onto my knees.

  Still drunk on my orgasm, I follow along eagerly.

  At first it’s just his hands stroking me all over. My breasts, my ass, my thighs, the small of my back and the curve of my ankle. No spot left untouched. Tiny shivers race up my spine each time he finds somewhere new. I wiggle, pressing myself into his touch wherever I find it.

  Then suddenly, it’s gone. A drawer opens in the nightstand, scraping softly in the dark, followed by the click of a plastic cap being flipped up. I shiver when I realize what’s about to happen.

  I should roll over now and pull him down on top of me, but I don’t. Instead, I wait in silent anticipation as he trails slick fingers down between my ass cheeks, spreading cool slippery liquid. Then they stop, resting against me. Tempting, teasing, but not moving.