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Wickedly Twisted 32
Rita's taste lingers on my tongue for hours after licking her to orgasm in the outdoor shower.Fortunately, Carson and Nolan both return to the city after the beach. They linger for a drink, tell some stories about their various exploits, then head out. "No hard feelings about earlier," Carson says, shaking my hand. "Just testing the new lawyer, that's all.""None at all," I say, giving him a smile, while inwardly thinking about stabbing him in the throat. "You're just trying to vet me. Totally understand. For men in your line of work, your lawyer is very important.""Exactly." He laughs and heads out. Nolan gives me an apologetic smile and follows.I almost want to thank him for turning me into a jealous prick.Otherwise, I never would've gotten a taste of Rita.Instead, I put them out of mind. Rita's hanging on my arm as I sip good whiskey out on the balcony with Orin and Molly. "You know, Scar, all this talk about family, it isn't bullshit." Orin watches me over his drink, eyes nar
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Rita"Dinner was good," I say, climbing into bed. I pull the sheets over me as Scar stands nearby in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, looking like he's on set for an underwear modeling job."You get along well with Molly," he says, watching me, eyes roaming over to the empty side of the bed. "Did you really mean what you asked about kids?""Absolutely," I say, feeling sleepy and barely resisting it. Lying out in the sun all afternoon took a lot out of me. "I think I got a sunburn on my arm."He moves closer, still looking at me. His face is tense, almost anxious, but I don't know why. "Orin said something to me while we were outside. He wants me to move to Boston."I roll over to frown at him. "Really? That's a lot to ask.""He's not a normal client. Anyone else and I'd tell them to fuck off. But Orin Callahan?" He shakes his head, clearly torn. "This is my chance, Rita."I sit up on an elbow. I like the way his eyes drift down my arm, to my shoulder, to my chest, back up to my lip
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RitaI stretch out in the sun, my skin doused in sunscreen. Orin's in the ocean, swimming with Molly. The pair of them are laughing as they bob and duck waves, splashing each other like children. I find it hard to imagine they're actually hardened gangsters like Scar claims.There's something so innocent about their relationship. Even when Molly's teasing him and Orin's acting all grumpy, they clearly love each other. They've been married for so long, but they're still happy. Can people really keep love going like that?I always imagined my parents started swinging out of desperation. They're unhappy in their marriage, but unwilling to end it. I can't picture getting divorced after being with someone for twenty, thirty, forty years. The idea of waking up one day far from now, far in the future, miserable, ready to walk away from the only world I've ever known, it scares the hell out of me. How can I know I'll still be in love at sixty?But it's possible. Molly and Orin are doing it, o
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ScarI finish packing the bags. Rita's up in the living room with Molly, finishing off another bottle of champagne. She can sleep on the flight back to Dallas.I'm already thinking logistics. Contracts. Apartments. A new move, a new life. Taking on the Callahan family is like beginning over again. I'll have to let some clients go—the Callahan network sprawls too wide and too deep. They'll keep me too busy for some of my smaller jobs. I told Orin I wouldn't give him special treatment, but we both know that's bullshit.Joining the family means loyalty to death.Except what will that mean for Rita? I worry about her as I finish getting our things together. When we inevitably stage our breakup and get our divorce, will Orin let her walk away? Will Molly try to patch things over? Will Rita feel like she's losing something all over again? I don't want to drag her through that, not if I can help it, but we both know the deal.Only I'm not sure why it's worth chasing anymore.I leave the room
Wickedly Twisted 36
RitaComing back to Dallas feels like returning to the real world.If the real world is also a total mess.Scar heads back to work. We don't talk about Gregory Callahan. We barely mention the move to Boston. It's like what happened at the beach didn't follow us home, and now the tension between us grows worse every day.I hate it. I don't understand this backslide. I want to go back to that Sunday morning, lying out on the beach with Scar, watching Orin and Molly playing in the water. I want to feel that sun. Feel his eyes on my body. I want to think about his taste in my mouth.Most of all, I want to feel good like that, something that's been missing from my life for a long time.Instead, he throws himself into his job like he always does while I lounge around his apartment. I don't bother pretending like I'm still his assistant. That was never going to work out—especially not now that Gregory's sniffing around us. It wouldn't make any sense, not if Scar and I were really married.Wh
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RitaI'm not a great cook so I order from his favorite take-out place, this barbecue restaurant a couple blocks away. I have everything set up when he gets home, looking exhausted from a long day at the office. I want to do something nice for him—the way he did something nice for me.A small surprise to ease some of his tension. Maybe even to bring a smile to his face.The more I'm around him, the more I think he needs this sort of surprise in his life. He has his friends, his work, but he spends so much time doing things for other people.He deserves to have something done for him for a change."Here's to a long day," Scar says, pouring two glasses of wine and toasting me."Here's to very thoughtful gifts."He sits down with a sigh, takes off his tie, rolls his sleeves up to show off his lovely forearms, and starts to eat. I watch him for a moment, picking at my plate, my guts a nervous roil, but Cait's right. If someone's going to make the first move, it might as well be me.And any
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RitaI can't sleep. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Scar's room is across the hall from mine. I can picture him doing the same thing, in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I glance at the clock—it's barely past eleven.There's a sound in the hall. A creak, a door opening. My heart races as I sit up on an elbow. The apartment's usually so quiet, except I hear footsteps coming toward my room. I'm about to call out when there's a soft knock."Rita?" Scar's whisper. "Are you awake?" The knob turns, the door opens.He's standing there. White t-shirt, black boxer-briefs. Staring in at me with that look like he wants to hold me down and feast on me.I sit up, hair spilling down my shoulders."Couldn't sleep," I say stupidly."Neither could I." He takes a step forward but hesitates. "You know we shouldn't.""I know," I say quietly. "But we can anyway.""I want to so fucking bad it's killing me.""I want it too.""Every night I lie in my room, thinking about you." He comes closer. "Abou
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ScarI dream of Rita that night. When I wake, I'm still in her bed. We smell like sex. I kiss her neck, cup her naked breasts. She wiggles her hips against me until I'm hard again. She's sleepy and beautiful as I kiss her. We fuck like that, half awake. I make sure to grind against her with my piercing, driving her wild. It gives me satisfaction, making her come like this, more joy than I ever thought possible. When she gets off twice, she pushes me back, panting and sweating, and she finishes me with her mouth. Slow and sensual, eyes locked on mine. Swallows every drop.While she showers, I make breakfast. Pancakes and coffee. She accepts a plate when she comes out, drying her hair. "That was unexpected," she says."What, the morning sex?""No, the pancakes." She stares at the plate. "I genuinely didn't think you knew how to work the stove."I roll my eyes. "I wasn't always rich, remember? I lived on pancakes for years. They gave me a scholarship at Blackwoods, but not a stipend. Mos
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