The Mane Event. Shelly Laurenston
for her lived in another universe altogether.
The woman’s very soul called out to him. He kept imagining what that body would feel like under him. What that voice would sound like in his ear when she was coming. Would she rip the skin off his back or just leave bruises? Did she bite? Or maybe she liked to be bit. Did her pussy taste sweet? Or a little salty? And did she mind being worn as a hat?
Mace groaned and glanced over at the hotel clock on the nearby end table. He still had hours before he’d see her again.
Smitty took his Pack out for a long lunch in Midtown. Mace glanced over at the bathroom. Nope. His cock was too hard to even think he could make it to the shower.
He reached into his sweatpants, pulling his cock free. He ran his hand along its hard length, immediately imagining Dez. Now she wasn’t some hazy fantasy that he concocted. He knew exactly what adult Dez looked like, which only made him harder. Mace accessed one of his standard Dez fantasies, the one where he kissed her for hours. Not exactly Penthouse worthy, but it still ruled as one of his favorites. She had such gorgeous lips, he could spend his life kissing that mouth. In fact, he had every intention of doing exactly that.
Mace closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch. He started off slowly, stroking himself. Enjoying the feeling of his own hand. And he could almost feel her. Dez’s lips on his throat, his jaw, his mouth. His grip tightened and he couldn’t stifle a groan. His tongue inside her mouth, her hands sliding across his chest. His breath sped up as his strokes became stronger, faster.
One meeting with her and Dez had become a part of him. She infected his blood. He could smell her scent. Almost feel her skin. That voice, though. That goddamn voice pushed him over the edge. It always had. His orgasm slammed into him and he growled Dez’s name as his come spurted all over his hand.
Mace relaxed back on the cushions. That woman is going to be the death of me.
Dez walked up to the table outside the café. Not surprisingly, they weren’t alone. Four gorgeous women surrounded them. Vinny caught her eye. The spark of desperation in those pretty blue peeps sent her a clear message. “Help me. These women are boring me to death.”
Well, she couldn’t leave her buddies hanging. Besides, it would be fun.
She walked up to the group, flashed her badge. “I’m sorry, ladies. But I’m here to arrest these men for their homosexual prostitution ring.”
The group stared at her. She crossed her arms, which caused her jacket to move back, revealing the gun holstered at her side. “Start moving those asses, ladies. Or I start shooting.”
It took them less than a minute to evacuate their seats. Dez threw herself into the one next to Jimmy Cavanaugh and put her feet on Vinny’s lap. “Well, that was fun.”
Vinny slapped Dez’s boot-covered feet. “Why are we always gay in these scenarios you create?”
She grinned. “Because it makes you idiots uncomfortable. I live for that.”
Dez ordered herself a large black coffee and an éclair from the waiter. Once he walked away, she glanced at the three men sitting with her. Three of her closest friends since her tour in Japan. They became friends because they were all products of the “Burroughs.” Vinny Pentolli represented Queens, Jimmy Cavanaugh Brooklyn, and Salvatore Ping-Wei stood in for Manhattan. She represented the Bronx.
They were the toughest MPs she’d ever known. They took no crap but were fair. And she had become one of the most feared dog handlers because she had “Baby.” No one messed with Baby. No one came near Baby. No one looked Baby in the eye. No one but her. Dez had earned their respect by expertly taking care of four drunken sailors her third night on duty. Not hard when Baby had one of their throats in her maw.
The four of them served together for over a year until reassignment to different bases. Dez stayed in the Marines for only another two years after that. Then she came back to the city of her birth and became what she always wanted to be. A New York City cop. Five years ago, she walked into one of her favorite Irish bars and right into the middle of a bar fight. She and her partner at the time broke up the fight even though they were both off duty. When the proverbial smoke cleared she came face to face with her past.
Kind of like the day before when she saw Mace again. Only she just wanted to have a beer with the guys and catch up with old times. With Mace, she didn’t want to do anything but sit on his face.
“You look awfully nice today.”
Of all the people she would expect to notice the cleavage she decided to show in anticipation of her dinner later that night with Mace, Sal was the last of them. It always seemed like he didn’t pay attention to much, like he existed in his own world. Yet, every few months or so, he surprised her by revealing that nothing really got past him.
“You’re right,” Vinny agreed. “She has on her good black jeans and her low-cut slut top.” She glared at Vinny and took her feet off his lap.
“Showing some healthy tit action,” Jimmy unnecessarily added.
“I am not!”
The three men laughed while Dez’s face turned red.
“So what’s the deal, MacDermot? I know you didn’t dress up like this for us. You hate this season, so you’re not feeling merry. And you’re off duty since your unfortunate run-in with the rich and the powerful.”
Dez waited until the waiter left her coffee and pastry and walked away. “Well…I have a date tonight.”
The way they gaped at her was what she found so insulting. “I’m not lying.”
“No. But are you delusional?”
“Blow me!”
“Whoa!” All three men reared back, and she inwardly groaned at the return of the foul-mouthed Bronx girl she had been. Damn Mace!
Vinny held his hands up, palms out. “Calm down, woman. You know we’re kidding.”
“No, you’re not. And you’re paying for my éclair.”
Jimmy stared at her and Dez knew why he didn’t spend a lot of time alone. She did really have the most gorgeous male friends. Although they were a little…different. Sal lived in his own world. Vinny brought being an egotistical prick to a brand-new high or low depending on your perspective. And Jimmy always seemed angry. She never saw him smile with anyone but the three of them. He probably came out of his mother’s womb with that scowl permanently plastered to his gorgeous face. Sometimes she wondered if smiling might actually be painful for him.
“So who is he?”
“He’s actually an old friend of mine. Just got back into town.” She sipped her coffee, then said while staring into the coffee mug, “He’s Navy.”
Dez ducked the balled-up napkins thrown at her.
“Have you no shame?” Jimmy sighed.
“Oh, shut up.”
The men took chunks of her éclair. “So who is this Navy guy?”
Dez swallowed at Jimmy’s question. “Uh…Mason Llewellyn.”
The silence that followed…kind of painful. Finally, Dez couldn’t take it anymore. “What?”
Vinny barely smothered a laugh. “You expect us to believe you’re dating a Llewellyn?”
“I’m not dating a Llewellyn. We went to school together. I told you about him.”
“You went to school with a Llewellyn?”
“Well,” Jimmy cut in, “I went to school with a Rockefeller. Of the Brooklyn Rockefellers.”
Dez gazed down at her empty plate. They’d completely demolished her éclair. She inwardly sighed. Of course they didn’t believe her. Why would anyone think Dez MacDermot would know, much less date, a Llewellyn?