“Hmmm.” Luca looked around the dusty storage closet in the back hallway of Red 27. “I think we should fuck in the bar like everyone else.”
“I’ve never had sex in a closet before.” Gabrielle pressed herself up against him. “And this way we’ll be legal.” It was the middle-of-the-road solution that catered to her need to follow the rules and his need to break them.
His hand curled around her waist and he pulled her closer. “The things I want to do to you aren’t legal in any sense of the word.”
Gabrielle grinned, studying his handsome face in the dim light. “I’m a closet virgin. Be gentle.” She nuzzled his neck, nipped his earlobe, and curled one hand around his nape until his thick hair teased her fingers. Even the musty smell of the closet couldn’t mask his scent—whiskey and cologne with a hint of danger.
“I won’t.” He lowered his head and took her lips in a demanding kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, pushing deep, taking control as his fingers dug into her ass. God, he could kiss. Her panties were wet and getting wetter the rougher he got.
“Fuck, you’re a hot piece of ass.” His crude words inflamed her. Beneath the civilized veneer, he was raw and wild and she wanted more. More dirty talking. More rough handling. More bruising kisses. She wanted to be manhandled. She wanted his hard body between her thighs. She wanted to ache tomorrow so that every time she moved she would remember him inside her.
She wanted to hurt, to feel, to live. And this man could give it all to her.
With one hand, she gripped the buckle of his belt, intending to pull it away, but before she could move, Luca captured her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back, making her arch and offer her breasts up for his pleasure.
“I like to see you like this.” Holding her firmly, he pushed her against the wall and rubbed his chest against her breasts making her nipples peak beneath her clothes and her clit throb.
“How?” The word came out in a panted breath.
“Wet. Wanting. Doing what I tell you to do.” He plundered her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting, testing, claiming. With her hands secured, and her mouth ravaged by his kiss, her insides liquefied, and she let out a moan.
“You can do better than that.” He released her hands to unzip her dress, letting it fall to the floor. “Take off your bra and panties. I want to fuck you in just those boots.”
Gabrielle’s gaze flicked to the door behind him. He’d locked the old-fashioned door knob when they came in, but if someone outside had a key, there would be no hiding what they were doing, no quick straightening of the clothes. Even in the semi-darkness, the only light a faint flicker through the cracks in the door, she would shine like a beacon if she were nude. And wouldn’t that just bring the police force into disrepute.
“Now, Gabrielle.”
At his soft command, she startled. This was the side of Luca that frightened her. Not because she thought he would hurt her, but because his dominating side aroused her so fiercely, she didn’t know where to draw the line. The sense of being controlled coiled inside her, undecided if it should spring. Pushing past her hesitation, she unclipped her black lace bra and eased her matching panties over her hips, stepping out of them when they reached the floor.
“Sei bellissima,” he whispered before she had time to worry about being so utterly exposed.
He pressed his lips against hers, and then kissed his way down her body, licking the hollow of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. He teased her nipples with his tongue and teeth as he cupped and squeezed her breasts in his warm hands.
Outside, the New York Dolls’ “Personality Crisis” segued into The Stooges’ “Search and Destroy.” Brooms vibrated against the wall and cans and bottles danced lightly on the shelves.
Luca stripped off his T-shirt, and Gabrielle’s gaze slid down his body, taking in the scars from his bullet wound, his magnificent tattoo, his pecs and chiseled abs, and the holsters across his body.
“You carry a lot of weapons.” He had two guns holstered behind his back, and a knife on each side. “Is there something I should know about the restaurant business?”
“It’s a dangerous world out there.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he undid his belt. “People are uncompromising when it comes to good Italian food.”
She licked her lips when he unzipped his jeans, and released his cock from its restraint. “It’s a dangerous world in here.”
Luca gave a low growl of satisfaction. “You like what you see, bella?”
His shaft was huge and thick from base to the plum-shaped head. Perfect. She wanted that, wanted him, wanted to end this slow tease and feel him deep inside her. “Yes.”
Something primal and possessive flared in his eyes. “Touch me.”
She wrapped her hand around his cock, smooth skin over rigid steel. He was a very confident lover, crude, and utterly in control. She hungered to get him at her mercy just once and drive him as wild as he drove her.
“Harder.”
Warmth pooled in her belly as she pumped up and down his hardened length, imagining him inside her.
“You’re gonna take me, angel.” He tangled his hand in her hair, tugged her head back. “All of me inside that hot little cunt. I’m going to make you ache inside so every time you move tomorrow you remember I was inside you.”
Desire coursed through her, setting her blood on fire. “God, I love it when you talk dirty.”
“That’s because you’re a naughty angel, and underneath all that sweetness, you’re as dirty as me.” He eased her hand away from his cock, and knelt before her, teasing the soft roundness of her belly with his tongue before he moved lower to blow a hot breath over her mound. Gabrielle tensed in anticipation of his mouth moving where she wanted him to go, but he skipped over her throbbing clit and ran his tongue along her inner thigh.
“No.” She threaded her hand through the thickness of his hair, parted her legs without embarrassment or shame. “Lick me.”
“Shhh, angel.” He held her labia open, and ran his finger around her entrance, sliding it slowly toward her clit. “You’re not in charge here.”
She groaned in frustration, her hands fisting his hair. Luca kept his gaze on her as he slicked one finger up one side of her clit. Her inner muscles tightened as he slid his finger down the other side. No one had ever paid so much attention to her pussy, and she’d never been on the edge for so long.
“Giorno e notte sogno solo di te.”
Oh God. Electricity sizzled under her skin, making the sensations he was creating down below so intense she could barely breathe. “I told you not to speak to me in Italian. I’m already too turned on.”
“I’m not speaking to you.” He lifted her right leg, placing it over his shoulder, opening her to him. He kissed the soft crease behind her knee and then traced a warm, wet path up her inner thigh with feather-light flicks of his tongue. He murmured again in Italian, and then pushed one thick finger inside her.
“Ahhhh.” So good. Need coiled deep in her belly, and she leaned back against the wall. “Luca Rizzoli. You were not just speaking to my pussy.”
“I plan to do many things to your pussy.” He withdrew his finger and replaced it with two. “Even pussies need attention.”
With one arm wrapped around her hip, holding her still, he plunged his fingers deep inside her as he teased her clit, licking around the tender bundle of nerves but never where she needed him to go.
“What did you say?” she whispered, as the need to come grew to a crescendo, cresting and dipping in time to the lazy flicks of his tongue over her clit.
“Secret between me and your pussy.” He murmured again in Italian, the vibration of his lips and tongue sending ripples of desire through her core.
She clutched his head, moving against him, trying to get just one lick of his hot, wet tongue directly on her clit. “I don’t like secrets.”
“Some secrets keep you safe.” His rough fingers dug into her ass, holding her in place, as he teased her in the most intimate way.
Luca had secrets. Even after the time they’d spent together, she knew very little about him. What other businesses was he involved in? Who were his friends in the restaurant and why didn’t he talk about them? And who were the guys he was with now? Why did they call him ‘boss’? How did a restaurant owner afford a Maserati and a penthouse in one of the fanciest areas of the city, and how did he get the owner of Glamour to give him her address?
She pushed those thoughts aside, determined to enjoy this time with him. The law had a term for a situation in which suspicion was aroused to the point where a person saw the need for further inquiry but deliberately chose not to make those inquiries so as to keep herself unaware: willful blindness.
And in the semi-darkness of the broom closet in Red 27, with her lover’s tongue between her legs, the darkness in her heart replaced with warmth and light, sweet oblivion within reach, Gabrielle chose to be willfully blind.
“Oh God, Luca. Make me come,” she whispered as her body trembled.
“Io sono tua, bella. Per te farei di tutto.”
“Translate,” she demanded.
His mouth, hot and wet, closed over her clit, catapulting her into orgasm. She fisted his hair, and her guttural moan rang in her ears as exquisite pleasure washed over her in wave after wave of intense sensation.
“I am yours, mio angelo.” He pressed a soft kiss to her mound. “I would do anything for you.”
* * *
He didn’t know where to look, wanted to memorize every detail. Her plump glistening lips. Her beautiful blue eyes. Her swollen breasts topped with rosy nipples. Her hot, pink, wet cunt.
Unable to wait a second longer, he dug a condom from his wallet and sheathed himself as he stood.
“Ready for me, bella?” He curled his hands around her ass and lifted her to his hips. She locked her legs around him, bracing herself against the wall, her forearms on his shoulders. He didn’t realize she had taken over until it was too late. As soon as he felt her soft, slick entrance glide over the head of his cock, he was done. With a soft groan, he canted his hips and plunged deep inside her.
Dio mio. She was so hot. So tight. So wet.
Her head thrashed, her long hair streaming over her shoulders, covering the scar on her chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he sucked in a breath of the stifling air. He had fought his desire so long, he wouldn’t be able to hold back, and he wanted her with him. Again. He was greedy for her moans of pleasure. He wanted to feel her pussy clenching around him, wanted to hear her scream.
“Oh God. Fuck me, Luca.”
Giving in to his primal need, he pounded into her, slamming her against the wall, alternating thrusts with firm strokes of his fingers over her clit. He heard footsteps in the hallway, felt the vibration of the bass as Green Day’s “Welcome to Paradise” pounded through the speakers, breathed in the scent of sex and the wildflower fragrance that was now inextricably tied with her. Paradise, indeed.
He fucked her in a frenzy, rutting like an animal, nuzzling her neck, biting her shoulder, desperate now for the climax that hovered just out of reach. He was out of control, his vision blurred, his entire body focused on the exquisite, sensual woman in his arms.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
No, he wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Even if Frankie yanked open the door and put a gun to his head, he wouldn’t let this woman go. He pumped in and out, harder, deeper, faster. But it was the ripple of her pussy against his cock that sent him over. Sensation coursed through his body. His cock jerked violently inside her. His balls lifted, tightened, and he threw back his head and groaned as pleasure erupted from his spine, tremor after tremor until the pressure relented.
He leaned his forehead against hers, panting his breaths. He had fucked many women, many ways. But he had never fucked like this—furious, desperate, caught in a maelstrom of emotion. He wanted her in his bed and in his life, loved and hated that she was a cop, wished that there was a way they could be together that didn’t end with him at the bottom of Lake Mead wearing a pair of Frankie’s special cement shoes.
Pushing his dark thoughts aside, he brushed his lips over hers, needing something more, some connection. She whimpered softly, and he slipped his tongue into the welcoming heat of her mouth.
“I liked that,” she said softly, pulling away. “I like it rough.”
“Like” seemed too mild a word for wild, rough closet-shaking sex. Intoxicating, maybe. Addictive.
She was addictive. And all he could think about as he released her was: When could he have his next fix?
* * *
“I need some air.” Clothes straightened, hair roughly combed, Gabrielle closed the closet door. Although the hallway was much cooler than their naughty hideaway, she needed a few minutes to come down after yet another mind-blowing illicit encounter.
“This way.” Luca clasped her hand and led her down the narrow hallway. He pushed open the Exit door, holding it open with one hand as he pulled out his phone and texted with the other. “Just letting the guys know where we are,” he said when she raised a curious eyebrow.
She instantly felt guilty for not doing the same, but before she could dig her phone out of her purse, she heard Nicole’s voice out in the alley.
“I was just talking to him, Clint. It was nothing.”
“You wanted him. You wanted to fuck him. I saw it.” Clint’s angry voice sent a shiver down Gabrielle’s spine. “You’re a fucking slut.”
Gabrielle froze behind the partially open door, holding back Luca with one hand, not wanting to intrude, but wary about leaving Nicole alone with Clint in a rage.
“I only want you, baby.” Nicole’s voice rose to a pleading whine. “Let’s go back inside and have a drink.”
“You humiliated me out there,” Clint snarled. “You need to learn not to do it again. You need to learn who you belong to. Now I’m gonna have to punish you. You know I don’t like to do it, Nic. Why do you always make me do it?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. Please just don’t hit me where my friends will see.”
Bile rose in Gabrielle’s throat. Not just at the thought that Clint was about to strike her best friend, but at the sound of Nicole’s voice—a totally uncharacteristic defeated whimpering that made her question if it was even the Nicole she knew.
“Please…”
“Shut the fuck up. You know you deserve this.”
Gabrielle was moving even before she heard the crack of flesh on flesh. Slamming the door open she ran into the alley only to see Nicole stagger back against the wall from the force of Clint’s blow. How long had this been going on? Why hadn’t Nicole told her? What kind of friend was she that she hadn’t known?
“No, bella.” Luca called out behind her, but nothing could stop her now, not even the damn heels that were clacking on the pavement stained with spilled beer, vomit, cigarette butts and gum.
“You fucking bastard,” she shouted. “Don’t you dare touch her again.” Gabrielle smashed her fist into Clint’s jaw. Clint had at least eighty pounds and four inches on her, but she’d taken down guys bigger than him when she worked the beat, and Clint was no hardened criminal used to life on the streets. Her strikes were hard and focused, designed to incapacitate him quickly and with minimal effort, but when he dropped to his knees, she couldn’t stop. Anger and frustration, and her own self-loathing that she had been so wrapped up in her own pain she hadn’t realized Nicole was suffering, demanded more.
“Stop.” Luca came up behind her, wrapping his arms tight around her body, pinning her arms to her sides. “He’s down. You need to back off.”
“Get the fuck off me.” She twisted in his grasp, but he held her fast.
“You’re a police officer. You can’t do this. This isn’t your way.” The urgency in his voice pierced through the veil of anger that sheeted her vision. She blinked, saw Clint groaning on the ground, blood dripping from his nose. Horror replaced anger when she realized she’d lost control. Horror, and a betraying sliver of satisfaction.
She shuddered in Luca’s arms. “He hit her. He hit Nicole. And this wasn’t the first time. He’s going to jail for this. I’m going to make sure he feels the full force of the law.”
“Look after your friend.” He released her. “I’ll take care of him.”
Gabrielle ran over to Nicole and helped her to sit. Blood trickled from the side of Nicole’s mouth, and Gabrielle dug through Nicole’s purse for a tissue to dab it away. “God, honey. Are you okay?”
Nicole gave a bitter laugh. “I guess you know now I’m used to it.”
“I’m so sorry.” She knelt beside Nicole and pulled her into a hug. “I’ve been so wrapped up in David’s death and hunting for his killer, I wasn’t there for you. But I’m here now. I’m going to arrest him and get a squad car here to take him to the station. He’ll face a Battery Domestic Violence charge not just for tonight but—”
“I don’t want that.” Nicole shook her head. “I don’t want him to go to jail. He was just upset. He’ll calm down, and everything will be fine. He’s always so sorry after it happens. Things will be good if I don’t mess up again.”
Gabrielle froze, her pulse pounding through her ears. As a beat cop, she’d dealt with many cases of domestic abuse. She understood the cycle of violence. After an abusive incident like this, there would be a making-up period in which the abuser apologized and promised to stop. Following that, there was a period of calm until the tension built up again. Nicole had only been with him for a year. She could break out of the cycle. She just needed help.
“It’s a misdemeanor. He might spend a few days in jail and he’ll get a fine, community service, and he’ll have to go to counseling…”
“He’ll be so angry,” Nicole whispered. “He’ll hurt me worse than before.”
“We can get a protective order.”
“You don’t understand…” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “He won’t care. He loves me. He’ll want to be with me.”
“Gabrielle.” Luca pulled Clint off the ground, holding him immobile with one arm twisted behind his back. “She’s right. Fines, counseling, and community service—the solutions the law offers won’t stop him. I know men like this, and there’s only one way to deal with them. Your friends are my friends. I’ll make sure he understands that no one fucks with my friends.”
Gabrielle pushed to her feet. “That’s not how this works. There’s a process, a system in place. He’ll be arrested and charged. He’ll have to face a judge in court. He’ll get a criminal record. The counseling and community service will help him understand that what he’s done is wrong and hopefully he’ll be deterred from doing it again.”
She tasted the lie as the words dropped from her mouth. In Battery Domestic Violence cases, rarely did theory meet practice. She’d been called again and again to the same homes where she’d arrested men for domestic abuse. Luca was right. Most abusers didn’t stop. Once they had that taste of power, not even the threat of jail would deter them.
“Do you not want to protect her?” he asked.
“Of course, I do. Protecting people is my job. But I have to work within the law to see justice done.”
His gaze dropped to Nicole and his eyes softened. “We see justice in very different ways.
If it was up to me, this bastard would suffer ten times more than he made her suffer, and he would learn that there are no second chances.”
“It’s not up to you.” Gabrielle folded her arms across her chest. “And vigilante justice is not the way to handle this. I’d be grateful if you could hold him until the police arrive, but that’s all I want you to do.”
His jaw tightened, but he held Clint down while she called the police. Part of her understood his anger. Only a few minutes ago, she wanted more than anything to beat Clint the way he’d beat Nicole. She wanted to see him broken and whimpering on the ground. She wanted the kind of justice Luca had offered—the justice she had truly been seeking when she entered the warehouse looking for David’s killer.
Justice that had nothing to do with the law.