Red Hot Reunion
Page 48
Pleased that she was impressed, he merely said, “Call it a lucky real estate move back when land was cheap a few years back.”
She raised an eyebrow, but merely drank her wine. “I’ll make a deal with you.” His gaze was still on the vines, but he knew she could see how hard his c**k was against the zipper of his jeans, that he was on the verge of pressing her back into the blanket and kissing that sassy, clever smirk off her face. “You tell me what you know about Jason and Emma and I’ll make sure you get lucky again.”
Rocco wasn’t stupid. He knew that Kate had two reasons for going out with him. One, because she wanted him to f**k her brains out. Which he would gladly do. And two, because she wanted to save her best friend, Emma, from heartache. All afternoon, he’d struggled with his conscience where Jason was concerned.
On the one hand, they went back a long way, and Rocco hated the thought of giving up one of his most valued friendships because he squealed to Emma’s girlfriend.
But what Rocco couldn’t get away from—male bonding aside—was that Jason was doing the wrong
thing. A bad thing. Something that could ruin not only his life, but Emma’s as well. He saw the way they looked at each other, like they’d never seen anything so beautiful, so important, so perfect. Why couldn’t Jason just admit how he really felt and get over the past?
Someone had to pull Jason’s head out of his ass. And as Rocco took another long admiring glance at Kate’s lush red curls, her long fingers—fingers that could do a hell of a lot of damage to his c**k and hopefully would—he knew that if anyone had the panache to force Jason to own up to his stupid revenge plan, it was this woman. Not, of course, that he was going to give her any information for free.
“I don’t know,” he said, rolling over onto his back. “What’s in it for me?”
Kate put her glass down on the wild grass and licked her lips. “Oh, so you’re going to play it like that, are you?”
Rocco shifted slightly to give his throbbing erection more room in his pants. “Ever heard of buying off a defendant?”
She dropped her gaze to this bulging zipper. “I’m not going to buy you off, honey. I’m going to blow you.”
“Sweet Jesus.”
She ran her nails down his chest, stopping at the button on his pants. “You’ll be yelling out a whole lot more than that by the time I’m done with you, but only if you give me what I want.” She popped the button open on his jeans and gently held his zipper between her thumb and forefinger. “Start talking.”
“Have mercy on me, lawyer girl,” he begged.
Obviously no stranger to being in the driver’s seat—both in bed and the courtroom—she shook her head.
“You want me to let your c**k out of prison, tell me something I want to hear.”
Intense desire imprinted itself on Rocco’s bad boy features. “I can’t believe you’re making me sell out my buddy,” he said, acting like he hadn’t already made this decision without her help.
“I’m getting bored, tattoo boy.”
“Shit, you drive a hard bargain,” he said, shifting again, pushing his pelvis up into her hand. Just as her fingers were slipping off the metal zipper, he said, “She screwed him over a bunch of years ago.”
Kate’s lips turned up just the slightest bit, letting Rocco know she was pleased that he’d finally decided to talk. She pulled his zipper down all the way and his fly burst open, hardly able to contain his massive erection.
“Don’t tell me things I already know,” she said, mistress to her slave. “One more slip and your c**k will never know how good it feels to slide between my lips.”
Rocco’s words merged with his groan. “He wants payback. For what she did.”
Her movements deft, she pulled his thick penis out from the waistband of his black boxer shorts. “Very nice work, Rocco,” she praised, her fist closing around his throbbing cock. “Very nice, indeed.” And then she murmured, “Payback, huh?”
He nodded, hoping she was going to be wrapping up the interrogation soon. He was this close to yanking her ankles over his shoulders and plunging into her, foreplay be damned. “Yeah, that’s what he says. But they’ve been going at it like bunny rabbits for the past week.”
“I guessed that,” she said, bending her head so that her hair brushed across his about-to-blow cock.
He was impressed that he could still speak. “He’s f**ked in the head. Been trying to tell him that too.”
Her breath a whisper against the soft skin stretched over his cock, she said, “Why would he take her back like this after all these years?”
“Because he loves her. He really does.”
She shifted her head to look him in the eye and he knew that his reward had come. Opening her lips, she fluttered her tongue against his head and then sucked his shaft fully into her mouth, milking him with her throat.
Hot damn, he thought as he threaded his hands through her hair and pulled her closer, he was going to have to figure out a way to convince Kate to make regular wine country pit stops. Either that, or he was going to have to become a suburban boy toy. Which, frankly, didn’t sound all that bad when Kate’s plump red lips were sucking and pulling at his cock. And then as she drained him dry he lost sight of everything except the woman he was going to pleasure all night long.
“Emma Jane Cartwright!”
Jane Holden’s crisp voice easily cut through the din of sound in Cravings. Her parents had come for her after all. Emma alternated between instinctively straightening her spine under her mother’s disapproving glare and wanting to slink down beneath the tablecloth in embarrassment.
Julie was one step ahead of the production, quickly adding another chair to Emma’s corner table and seating Jane and Walter as if nothing was the least bit strange about their abrupt, rather unpleasant entrance.
“You have sixty seconds to explain yourself, young lady,” Jane bit out.
Emma blinked. How could she possibly explain something to her mother that she herself didn’t
understand? And really, what did her mother think was going to happen when the sixty seconds were up?
That she’d run off chastised and crying?
Nonetheless, three decades of being her mother’s daughter surfaced and she nearly said, “I’m sorry.” But she could only get as far as “I’m” because something in her wouldn’t let her apologize.
She raised an eyebrow, but merely drank her wine. “I’ll make a deal with you.” His gaze was still on the vines, but he knew she could see how hard his c**k was against the zipper of his jeans, that he was on the verge of pressing her back into the blanket and kissing that sassy, clever smirk off her face. “You tell me what you know about Jason and Emma and I’ll make sure you get lucky again.”
Rocco wasn’t stupid. He knew that Kate had two reasons for going out with him. One, because she wanted him to f**k her brains out. Which he would gladly do. And two, because she wanted to save her best friend, Emma, from heartache. All afternoon, he’d struggled with his conscience where Jason was concerned.
On the one hand, they went back a long way, and Rocco hated the thought of giving up one of his most valued friendships because he squealed to Emma’s girlfriend.
But what Rocco couldn’t get away from—male bonding aside—was that Jason was doing the wrong
thing. A bad thing. Something that could ruin not only his life, but Emma’s as well. He saw the way they looked at each other, like they’d never seen anything so beautiful, so important, so perfect. Why couldn’t Jason just admit how he really felt and get over the past?
Someone had to pull Jason’s head out of his ass. And as Rocco took another long admiring glance at Kate’s lush red curls, her long fingers—fingers that could do a hell of a lot of damage to his c**k and hopefully would—he knew that if anyone had the panache to force Jason to own up to his stupid revenge plan, it was this woman. Not, of course, that he was going to give her any information for free.
“I don’t know,” he said, rolling over onto his back. “What’s in it for me?”
Kate put her glass down on the wild grass and licked her lips. “Oh, so you’re going to play it like that, are you?”
Rocco shifted slightly to give his throbbing erection more room in his pants. “Ever heard of buying off a defendant?”
She dropped her gaze to this bulging zipper. “I’m not going to buy you off, honey. I’m going to blow you.”
“Sweet Jesus.”
She ran her nails down his chest, stopping at the button on his pants. “You’ll be yelling out a whole lot more than that by the time I’m done with you, but only if you give me what I want.” She popped the button open on his jeans and gently held his zipper between her thumb and forefinger. “Start talking.”
“Have mercy on me, lawyer girl,” he begged.
Obviously no stranger to being in the driver’s seat—both in bed and the courtroom—she shook her head.
“You want me to let your c**k out of prison, tell me something I want to hear.”
Intense desire imprinted itself on Rocco’s bad boy features. “I can’t believe you’re making me sell out my buddy,” he said, acting like he hadn’t already made this decision without her help.
“I’m getting bored, tattoo boy.”
“Shit, you drive a hard bargain,” he said, shifting again, pushing his pelvis up into her hand. Just as her fingers were slipping off the metal zipper, he said, “She screwed him over a bunch of years ago.”
Kate’s lips turned up just the slightest bit, letting Rocco know she was pleased that he’d finally decided to talk. She pulled his zipper down all the way and his fly burst open, hardly able to contain his massive erection.
“Don’t tell me things I already know,” she said, mistress to her slave. “One more slip and your c**k will never know how good it feels to slide between my lips.”
Rocco’s words merged with his groan. “He wants payback. For what she did.”
Her movements deft, she pulled his thick penis out from the waistband of his black boxer shorts. “Very nice work, Rocco,” she praised, her fist closing around his throbbing cock. “Very nice, indeed.” And then she murmured, “Payback, huh?”
He nodded, hoping she was going to be wrapping up the interrogation soon. He was this close to yanking her ankles over his shoulders and plunging into her, foreplay be damned. “Yeah, that’s what he says. But they’ve been going at it like bunny rabbits for the past week.”
“I guessed that,” she said, bending her head so that her hair brushed across his about-to-blow cock.
He was impressed that he could still speak. “He’s f**ked in the head. Been trying to tell him that too.”
Her breath a whisper against the soft skin stretched over his cock, she said, “Why would he take her back like this after all these years?”
“Because he loves her. He really does.”
She shifted her head to look him in the eye and he knew that his reward had come. Opening her lips, she fluttered her tongue against his head and then sucked his shaft fully into her mouth, milking him with her throat.
Hot damn, he thought as he threaded his hands through her hair and pulled her closer, he was going to have to figure out a way to convince Kate to make regular wine country pit stops. Either that, or he was going to have to become a suburban boy toy. Which, frankly, didn’t sound all that bad when Kate’s plump red lips were sucking and pulling at his cock. And then as she drained him dry he lost sight of everything except the woman he was going to pleasure all night long.
“Emma Jane Cartwright!”
Jane Holden’s crisp voice easily cut through the din of sound in Cravings. Her parents had come for her after all. Emma alternated between instinctively straightening her spine under her mother’s disapproving glare and wanting to slink down beneath the tablecloth in embarrassment.
Julie was one step ahead of the production, quickly adding another chair to Emma’s corner table and seating Jane and Walter as if nothing was the least bit strange about their abrupt, rather unpleasant entrance.
“You have sixty seconds to explain yourself, young lady,” Jane bit out.
Emma blinked. How could she possibly explain something to her mother that she herself didn’t
understand? And really, what did her mother think was going to happen when the sixty seconds were up?
That she’d run off chastised and crying?
Nonetheless, three decades of being her mother’s daughter surfaced and she nearly said, “I’m sorry.” But she could only get as far as “I’m” because something in her wouldn’t let her apologize.
