“Yeah, Joey. I am.” Un-fucking believable.
“You can’t have sex, just so youz know. You become a bride of Christ. I dunno how that works.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
My cousin’s only redeeming quality is his baby, Kimmy who gives me an open, four-toothed smile.
I wave at them both and dash up the stairs.
Chapter Three
Sebastian
“Hey darlin’.” Glancing away from my laptop, I inhale, still stunned at how her eyes light up every time she sees me.
“Hey, yourself.” Soft lips caress mine, then she sits at the small round table in her kitchen, eyeing my bare chest.
While she’s distracted, I shut down my browser real fast, hoping she didn’t see my Christmas surprise. “How’d it go with Father O’Connell?”
“I’m not sure.” Her pretty mouth purses as she places a bag marked Pete’s Pizzeria in front of me.
Grabbing a slice, I take a bite and moan at the chewy goodness. “About the confession or the missing statue?”
“Both, and except for commandment three, I’m giving myself a score of ninety out of a hundred.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t mention our lovin’.” I pull her onto my lap and those brown eyes sparkle.
“I didn’t have to. I checked online. Adultery is when one of the two sinners is married. You’re not, are you?” Her fingertips glide to the back of my neck and her lovely bottom wiggles over my hardening length.
“Not sure you should be movin’ all sexy-like. Didn’t I hear you tell Joey you’re becoming a nun?”
“You gotta problem wid dat?”
“Hell, yeah.” My hands slide under her shirt and cup her breasts as she leans in for more.
“Mmm. Don’t you want to know about the weeping statue?”
“I’m damn good at multi-tasking.” Cradling her in my arms, I walk her into the bedroom as she laughs and holds tight around my neck. “Very well. First off, Father O’Connell forgot to forgive my sins so I made a deal directly with God.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable talking about the Almighty. Hell, I’m about to make love to you.” My jeans tighten as I open her bedroom door and drop her on the bed.
“Okay, I’ll make it fast. Father O’Connell’s assistant, Mrs. O’Shay, agreed to let us see the church basement tomorrow.
“Holy detective work, Robin.”
“Hey, I get to be Batman.”
“No chance.” I straddle her, one knee on either side of her waist, and pull off her shirt. She’s wearing a sports bra which takes some effort to stretch over her ample breasts. With her fingers wrapped around my swollen appendage, I find her lovely mouth, kiss her, and roll onto my back with her on top.
Her skin blankets mine, all the curves in the right places. While our tongues wrangle, my palms glide down the silky skin of her back. Arriving at her bottom I squeeze, she moans, and I nip her nose.
She blushes, her lashes flutter, and the center of her eyes widen. I’ll be damned. She captures something inside my chest and I care so much it hurts.
We stare for the longest time, reconnecting. Then, her mouth crashes down on mine, her hands work down between us, and she brushes over the tip of my want.
I hiss and kiss her back, my tongue claiming her until we come up for air. Sitting on her heels, she licks her lips as a fingertip swirls across my pre-cum making me fucking crazy.
“Babe…” I want that mouth around me but maybe the next go around. I’ve spent too many hours dreaming of sinking into her tight pussy while I was in LA.
“Mmm?” Her hands fist around my length but I grab her wrists so she has to let go.
With her straddled over me, I pull her arms behind her back, hold them there, and lean over to take a breast in my mouth.
While I suck, my cock aches, squished between us. Damn. She is so fine I may not last.
I lift under her arms and place her on her back. Grabbing her knees, I slide to the floor and open her legs wide.
Her sexy scent and wet pussy almost set me off as a groan comes out of me. My tongue finds her quivering nub and I lick it until it blossoms. Then, holding her squirming legs in place, I play with my favorite toy. I love how her nub hardens as I curl a finger into her core.
“Suds… please…”
I could release her but I want her out of her fucking mind with desire so I pause every so often, moving just a fraction of an inch.
“Shit.” She bucks off her ass as I blow and swirl my tongue, missing the place she wants most.
Time stands still as she trembles and bites her lower lip with liquid coating my finger. Unable to hold off any longer, I kiss her slick center, suck, and press into her with my knuckle.
Dammed if she don’t scream as she cums. Wanting to ride her tsunami, I turn her onto her hands and knees, stand at the edge of the bed, and place my cock at her wet and ready opening.
When I dive in, waves of pulsing muscles clamp around me and amp up my desire. I pull out with a little pop and press in for more.
Holy shit. Again and again we meet, each time a little faster and a little harder. In this incredibly wild rhythm, I hold her hips at the sweetest angle. Tired, she starts to collapse, so I hold her up with one arm under her belly, her little ring digging into me.
Bucking and shivering, she’s all mine.
With one fingertip to her clit, she goes off a second time, and everything inside me coils tight. I thrust one last time, my juices spurt, and this fucking high overcomes me. It’s so damn awesome I wonder if I died and went to heaven.
For the longest time, I stand with myself deep inside her, holding up her jellyfish-like body. Then, back on earth, I drop her to the bed, and after sliding out, crawl beside her. After handcuffing one wrist to the bed, I fall into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Four
Samantha
Even though it’s Sunday, my internal alarm clock goes off at its regular time. Suds snores softly beside me with one arm draped over my shoulder and our noses touching. With his dark lashes resting on his face and care lines softened, it’s hard to imagine he wakes battle-ready.
Shuddering, I recall how he tried to strangle me and yet feel bad how one wrist is shackled to my headboard. It can’t be comfortable to sleep with his arm over his head. If only I could help.
I want to hear about his time in Afghanistan, his childhood, and everything else about his life. However, every time I ask about something personal, he jokes around and changes the subject.
He senses me watching him, opens his eyes, and he tucks a lock of my hair behind an ear. “What you thinkin’?”
“Nothing.” I reach to his chin and his beard’s prickly hairs tickle my palm.
“You are so damn fucking beautiful. How did I get so lucky?” Turning to the nightstand, he finds the small key, frees himself, and takes my breath away with his passionate gaze.
“As I recall, you got me fired.” I smile as he caresses my lower lip with a fingertip.
“Best damn move of my life. You gonna hold that against me forever?”
“Probably.” My lips brush across his mouth.
“Are you cold?” A large, warm hand slides to my exposed back and pulls up on the comforter until it covers my shoulder.
“A little. You’re a blanket hog.”
“I could warm you up, sugar.” His smirk sends other kinds of chills down my spine.
We make love all day and into the evening and it’s not until dinnertime, we venture out into the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I take inventory. “I can cook steaks, if you like.”
“Sounds great. I make a mean tossed salad.” Naked, he stands behind me, wraps an arm around my waist, and stares. “How do I know who’s food belongs to who?”
“We usually divide by shelves but Mia and Rose said I could use the top two for a few days.” I grab a pack of meat, point to the veggies, and pull my cutting board from a lower cupboard.
; “What time are your cousins coming back? I wouldn’t want them to see me with my junk hanging out.” Suds looks down at his cock, which jumps up at my attention.
“Tomorrow, after work.” Trying to ignore his interest, I grab a knife from a magnetic holder on the wall behind the stove and hand it to him. “We need sustenance.”
“Yes ma’am. Speaking of work, how’s your Aunt Marion?”
“I don’t think either she, or the salon has changed in the last thirty years.” When I sigh, he stops chopping.
“You could quit.”
“And miss the local news before anyone else hears about it? Not a chance.” I turn the knob, the stove ticks, and no flames appear so I grab a lighter resting on the countertop.
Suds puts his knife down and grabs some lettuce. “Has Uncle Vinny set you up on any more dates?”
“Not since you promised to cut the balls off my last one.”
“Good.”
“Not really. Because of it, he upped my rent.” I almost ended up homeless.
“Let me help you find a better apartment. Better yet, move in with me.” His eyes look so hopeful, I don’t want to disappoint him.
Leaving my sizzling steaks, I reach around his waist, and rest my head on his back. “We talked about this. I can’t live in Bushwick, wash hair in Bensonhurst, then commute into Manhattan in the afternoons. That’s just crazy.”
“Fine. I’ll find us an apartment around here. Okay?” He pulls my arms so as to squeeze me closer and when he turns, I stand on my tip toes.
With my fingers behind his neck, I tug him to my lips. “As soon as I can afford to pay half. I want us to be partners.”
Sighing, he tweaks my nose. “Y’all are too damned pigheaded.”
“Takes one to know one but let’s not fight. The sooner we get our detective agency up and running, the sooner we can move in together. We need to focus on the case. Shit, my meat…” Running to the stove, I snatch the oven mitts, and put the pan in the oven.
His knife bangs on the cutting board as he cuts carrots and grunts. “Right. The Jesus-Caper.”
“Don’t be mad. You’ll be gone again in January, Sebastian. It doesn’t make sense for me to move in with you now.”
“Fuck, Sam. Y’all got it all planned out. If I had my way, I’d fly you to Vegas and put a ring on your finger before the sun sets. All this talk of sinnin’ is doing a number on me.”
I wiggle my ring finger at him. “You never even asked.”
“Don’t need to. You’re mine. I knew it the day we met and so did you.”
“A girl might like a man to get down on one knee…”
“Hell, I was down on both a few minutes ago and I didn’t hear you complainin’ none.” At his wicked smile, my face heats up.
Suds has a lot more to offer than phony romantic gestures. Still… it might be nice…”
He wanders to where I stare in the oven window, pinches my chin, and turns my face toward him. “I told you I was saving up. You know that, right?”
“I’m fine with a fake gem and a simple gold band.”
“Ain’t happening.” While he washes lettuce, I find a salad spinner and place it in front of him.
His eyes bug out as I open the cover, place the leaves in the basket, and pull the string. While he finishes the salad, I set the table, and muse about our case.
“When we find the miraculous Jesus, we should get a fair amount of publicity. We could maybe take out an ad-”
“Still need licenses, luv. I filed for mine and should hear back soon.” He says it so fast I wonder what he’s up to.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I got a notice in the mail saying I need to take classes. I worked for the FBI, for over ten years for Chri- Christmas’ sake.”
His brows raise. “Havin’ trouble with that Third Commandment?”
“I’m workin’ on it.”
“Good luck with that.”
We eat, watch a movie, and head back into the bedroom. After making love until midnight, I pull out a fuzzy Santa handcuff and snap one of his hands to my headboard.
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
“It’s okay, sugar. Better a cramp in my shoulder, than to wake up with my hands around your neck.” He slides closer, we spoon, and sleep.
***
In the morning, we make love as we shower and I’m so sated and sore, I’m barely able to drag my ass to work.
Suds meets me at the salon after my shift, we share a crispy-crust pizza, then make our way past the stores under the train tracks. From there, we enter the older section of Bensonhurst where every inch of outside is coated in layers of Christmas decorations.
“Holy shit.” My country boy’s mouth drops open at the garish sight.
On one roof, there’s a life-sized Santa, his sleigh, and twelve reindeer. The lawn boasts three blowup Peanuts characters, a manger scene, and a steaming locomotive circling the display on tracks. Christmas trees, snowmen, and other lighted ornaments too numerous to mention cram onto the lawn.
If that weren’t enough, a speaker plays Christmas carols for the whole block to hear.
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“Daammnn…” He shakes his head back and forth as we pass similarly decked out houses on our way to the church.
When we get to the rectory, we knock, and Mrs. O’Shay, a gray-haired, dour old woman exits. She eyes us up and down, nods, and holds forth a ring of heart-shaped keys. “Well, let’s be done with it. I hasn’t got all day, ya know?”
“Thank you, kindly, ma’am. We do appreciate it. Hopefully, we can find the statue.” Even though Suds gives her his most charming smile, she snorts out a derogatory harrumph.
“Just what we be needin’ around here. Another miracle. Come along then, don’t dawdle.”
She trots down the stairs, across the parking lot, and unlocks a side door of the church. A weak bulb switches on overhead, then she leads us into a damp, musty basement.
Suds’ cellphone lights up as the old woman points. “It were there it were stored.”
Carved out of dark wood, a life-sized Mary and Joseph, stare vacantly toward an empty manger. Hormones out of whack, I tear up and sniff.
Suds shines his phone at my face. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just sad. It’s as if they really lost their kid.”
“We’ll find it.” Beams from his phone flash around the basement and stop at a broken casement window.
Below it, two sets of small sneaker prints displace the dust, along with cigarette ashes and a butt.
“Kids?” I approach, careful not to disturb anything.
“And I bet they go to the parish school. Could be damned hard to find.” He frowns as I think.
“We could initiate the first annual St. Thomas’ long jump contest. First prize, one hundred bucks.”
Mrs. O’Shay shakes her head back and forth, smiling for the first time. “Saints preserve us, it just might work.”
Chapter Five
Suds
On Tuesday, after Sam and her cousins leave for the salon, I make another pot of coffee and call my boss.
“Hey, Slate.” I pause, picturing him in his cushy downtown office, a far cry from where we first met.
“Bored? Need work? I got plenty.” His chuckle sounds half serious and before I met Sam, I would’ve taken him up on his offer.
“This time, I got a proposition for you. Lunch? I’m buying.”
“Don’t think I’m up for a street vendor hot dog.”
“Ha, ha. Y’all wound me.”
“See you at noon.”
“Copy that.” I hang up, research the neighborhood online, and open a few local newspapers.
I need to find office space before Christmas and time is running out. One promising ad boasts a second story walk-up above a bar. With the supermarket only a few blocks away, we’d have short-term parking.
After making a few calls, I open up my business proposal, add the potential properties, store everything on
the cloud, and with notepad in hand, depart for the ‘D’ train. Under the tracks, Mom-and-pop stores mingle with global brands, all competing for best Christmas dressing. A drug store window painted by a local grade school gets my vote.
Taped to almost every door at eye-level, red and green fliers remind me I got a case to solve. Sam is right. Finding the statue will bring much-needed publicity and her dreams closer to reality.
In the train station, I buy a metro card, and swipe it. Climbing the steps overlooking the shops, my Christmas spirit vanishes as I wait over thirty minutes for a train. When it squeals to a halt, the doors slide open, and I park my ass down. Every few seconds, I glance around the car to check my surroundings. Some would call it paranoid. I call it smart.
The hour-plus trip to Patten’s offices in Manhattan makes me better appreciate Sam’s commute. As I exit onto Sixth Ave, I squeeze through shoppers and by the time I get to Fifth, I’m barely able to move. I’m done with the big city as I flash my badge at Edgar manning the front desk and take the stairs to the twelfth floor.
Headset on, Slate waves me in, and points to a chair with bags from a local Chinese take-out place.
He finishes his call and rolls around to join me. “It’s nuts out there. I thought we’d do better to eat in.”
“Is Manhattan always like this?”
“Between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, yeah, pretty much. Plus, it’s real warm out. But I’m betting you didn’t stop by to talk about the weather. What’s up?”
While Slate opens the bags and places a few cartons on the table, I open my notepad and connect to the local network. “I wanted to bounce something off you.”
“Shoot.”
“Well, here’s the deal.” I take a deep breath. Hell, I’ve faced gunfire in Afghanistan that made me less nervous.
I slide my proposal across the glass, and study every nuance on my pal’s face while he reads. When a tic of a smile appears, I let go my breath and scoot closer so I can scroll down to the most important points.
A Suds and Sam Christmas Page 2