Darlene Read online

  "Okay." My eyebrows are scrunched and I know that I have a certain look on my face that Nelly tells me is intimidating.

  "What's your ethnic background?"

  I laugh.

  "See? Now you think I'm an idiot. Admit it."

  "You're harmless." My mouth waters when the tortellini and fish come, and I'm the first to scoop up the beautiful pillows of pasta covered in a steaming orange-red vodka sauce. "You're not the first person to have asked me that, so don't worry about it. It's an American problem that I find quite fascinating—the need to put people in need little boxes of white or black or some other designation so that nothing goes topsy turvy with our system of race." Kevin has stopped chewing for a minute and I can tell I've gotten perhaps a bit heavy. I continue, "Nonetheless, it's okay. My mother is half Haitian and half Greek. Her mother married a Haitian man while working as a missionary over there. My father's from Canada, which is where I was born." I take a bite of the crostini. "But I was raised in the states. Northern California, but mostly Chicago."

  "Wow." Kevin pauses to sip his wine and refill my glass. "Well, I'm impressed. What a rich family tapestry."

  "Mister poetic." We share a smile.

  Sasha places the dessert menu in front of Kevin.

  "I'm stuffed. You?"

  "Ditto," I say, draining the last drop of wine from my glass. We've finished the bottle and most of the food. "You were right. That was absolutely delicious."

  "Glad you approve." His face goes flush, as if embarrassed that I'm reading his mind. "I'm thinking of something else for dessert that I have no doubt would be just as equally delicious."

  Chapter 8

  Kevin was right.

  The way his tongue delightfully twirls to suck up my wetness tells me that he indeed thinks I'm delicious. The coolness of the mini bar's countertop on my smooth bare cheeks contradicts his warm tongue in a wonderful way. I've already come once and even though I'm hot and sensitive in all the right places, I won't dare make him stop.

  "Yes, just like that!" I grab every wisp of his hair that my trembling fingers can find.

  His hand finds my nipple, rock hard, just as he starts to playfully nibble on precisely the right spot. I go wild. Clearly this pleases him, since he grabs both hips to give him leverage to drink all of me. He slithers his way back up to eye level, a satisfied smile on his face.

  "Even more delicious than last time."

  "Yeah," I say. "Except I'll kill you if you leave me hanging this time."

  "Oh, I have no intention of doing that." Kevin picks me up and I eagerly straddle him as he walks us over to the floor beside the bed.

  "The—“ I start to object, but Kevin cuts me off, flipping me around at the same time. Without a word, he plunges into me from behind, clasping his hands on my shoulders, driving hard into me. "Damn!" I scream, loving every minute of it.

  Kevin's dick is huge, even by my standards, and he has no problem filling me up. Our bodies smack, the pace quickening as he works himself—and me—up. Our moans sing a beautiful opera, a story of pleasure, desire and unrestrained lust. Kevin slows, surprising me when he withdraws, leaving me feeling empty with the hole he'd just filled.

  "Come here," he whispers, patting the bed. I start to lie down, but realize he has other plans. Swiftly, his strong arms lift me on top of his hard manhood, standing perfectly straight, waiting for its juicy prize. I easily slide up and down him, working my hips to the rhythm of his hands that glide up and down my skin. I adjust myself, my ankles at his ears, moving faster now, watching his beautiful eyes roll back into his head as he moans with passion. "Darlene! Yes, don't stop, baby!"

  For a moment, I close my eyes, too, relishing in the slipperiness of us together, the amazing pressure on my G-spot that threatens to buckle me over on a massive orgasm. My eyes flutter and I see the dreamy look in Kevin's eyes as they move over me.

  "Yes," he murmurs, almost a whisper. "Mmmm."

  His orgasm is explosive, his grip on me solid as he pumps into me. My hand barely slides over my wet lips before I'm coming too, my back stiffening into his strong hands.

  Moments later, our breathing slows to normal and I'm staring at the ceiling contemplating whether that might have just been the best sex I've had—ever. Much to my surprise, Kevin snuggles up to me, gently pulling me into his arms.

  My head swirls, my brain working overtime. This guy is … holding me. But I don't move. I rather like the way he just lets me lay silently, strumming my hair with one hand while the other traces invisible fluid lines on my bare hip. I clear my throat.

  "You're uncomfortable."

  That's all. He follows it up with nothing, patiently waiting for my response, allowing the weight of the silence sink into me.

  "No …," I start. I realize it's a lie, so I purse my lips.

  "Yes." He rolls onto his side, looks me in the eye. "It's okay. I understand we just met."

  "Right," I say, moving to sit up on my elbows.

  "Where are you going?"

  I stop, resting, my hair falling behind me. I have no idea what's going on and I suspect that Kevin knows this. He takes a nipple in his mouth, softly and expertly working me up again. Heat rises between my thighs as my lips, already dripping with the satisfied ending we just had, throb. I've never fought myself so hard. I'm terrified of what else might happen if he stays, but I'm loathe to let him go. I like his touch, his breath, him being inside of me. I want it.

  "I want more of you," he whispers, burying his face between my breasts, full again with arousal.

  For someone who's accustomed to being in full control, all the time, I suddenly can't talk. I can only let this man make love to me again. No, we're not even fucking at this point. I can tell he's waited for this moment with me and it scares me to death.

  Then, he's inside me again, holding me, kissing every part of me his mouth can reach while gliding back and forth inside of me, now soaking wet and hungry for more of him. For a time, everything is about Kevin. His eyes, his hair, the scent of him that only gets sweeter the more he sweats. My nipples grazing his hot skin, his very satisfying manhood that seems to fit me perfectly and as much as I don't want to be emotional, I realize that I can't stop this moment from carrying me completely away with it.

  And just when I think he's done with me, he leads me to the shower where I take the perfect opportunity to show him that my mouth doesn't just whisper intelligent words. I taste his salty-sweetness and love it even more when he picks me up to straddle him, this time, slipping into me and pounding me with a measure of aggression that is nothing like selfishness, but everything like passionate adoration.

  Chapter 9

  It rolls down every part of my body, finding its way into the deepest of crevices, hot and refreshing at the same time. I shut the water in the shower off and pause to slather on some gelled body oil before walking across the plush bath mat I've laid on the floor. Kevin has worn me out, without a doubt. I'd love to fall into a deep sleep of contentedness.

  But I've come here for a job and I like my money. Aside from the money, there's also the thrill of ripping people off and getting away with it.

  I suppose I should be honest with you about my skills, though. I was arrested once. I was twenty. A dumb first time offender who decided, on a whim, no doubt, that I'd steal a fabulous dress from Nordstrom for a New Year's Eve party. I'd managed to get about three feet in front of the exit before I was wrangled up by two store security guards flanked by a Boston policewoman. To this day I haven't forgotten the look on my father's face when he came to pick me up from a holding cell later that same day. Six months later, having been a model offender in a diversion program, a judge determined that I'd made amends to society for my misgivings through fines and community service, and he promptly expunged my record. I've been stealing all kinds of shit since. The thrill has never left me. I've just gotten smarter.

  It was actually an old friend of my mother's who'd recruited me to steal a large diamond ring from his old
bat of an aunt. The catch twenty-two was that I'd have to break into her house and steal it so that my mother's friend could file an insurance claim on her behalf. Now, I admit, it wasn't the hardest thing to do. He purposely left the alarm off for me to break in undetected, and she was eighty-seven and suffering from dementia. Hell, if she'd caught me, I could have just rattled off some random niece's name and the old lady would have invited me to sit down for tea. Nonetheless, I stole the ring for him. He got his inheritance that he'd been cut out of by his conniving estate attorney of a brother and the insurance check to boot. That's when I figured out that I really liked sparkly things. I also figured out that stealing diamonds was much more lucrative than anything else I'd done before. Needless to say I've branched out since then. Precious stones, semi-precious stones, gold—even high end crystal baubles go for a nice penny when I fence them.

  I survey my tools: a bolt cutter, a couple of lock picks, gloves, some rope, my trusty gadget for rendering key card doors useless. Built by a fifteen year-old wannabe computer hacker, if you can believe it. I'm ready with my gear, bag, wigs, maps, fake IDs and clothes to change into when I need to get out of dodge. And my conviction that this will be my biggest heist yet.

  I think about Kevin, allowing myself a few moments to lament. I can honestly say he's the type of guy I'd probably like to settle down with if I were the marrying kind. Maybe it's the whole He's Already Been Married with Kids stability thing that makes him desirable, not to mention that he's fabulous in bed. Falling in love isn't part of my plan, but if it were, maybe I'd pick Kevin. Or, let him pick me. It's so unfortunate that he's going to get caught up in this.

  I set my alarm to wake up early so that I can get to Chula and get that key to the rear security door, my entry point. I'm also hoping I can screw Kevin's brains out one more time before I disappear.

  Chapter 10

  Nelly's uncle Kip's shop sits right in the middle of a strip mall that boasts the usual suburban offerings: a nail salon advertising a $30 mani-pedi special that I wish I could indulge in, a coffee house, a high-priced cupcake store, a bridal salon and a beauty supply. It's typical and I'm glad because I can mill about while looking like the rest of these suburbanites aimlessly spending money on a random Thursday.

  I stroll inside and lean on the counter close to where an ambivalent looking kid sits reading a magazine. I have to speak for him to acknowledge me.

  "Excuse me."

  He looks up at me, brushing his bangs—far too long, by the way—out of his eyes. "Yeah?" Then, almost as if he'd suddenly realized that I'm probably a customer, he clears his throat and asks me, "Um, what can I help you with?"

  "Kip here?" I say.

  "Yeah. Hold on a minute."

  He lazily walks to the back of the store into an office that I can see from the front. A few seconds later, a tall, muscular black guy with a bald head and a ridiculously long beard appears.

  "Can I help you?"

  I almost smirk at the sound of his voice, which is nothing like I'd imagined for a guy of his size.

  "Hi. I'm Darlene." I extend my hand, which he leaves hanging mid air for now. "I'm a friend of Nelly's."

  Uncle Kip grins wide, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Oh, yeah. She called me," he responds excitedly, shaking the shit out of my hand in the process. "What 'cha need?"

  "Well, I'm sure she told you," I start, pulling the mold from a plastic baggie that had been hidden in my crossbody bag, "what I needed."

  Kip glances at the long-haired kid. "She just said you needed a key."

  Good, I think to myself as I step a few inches down the counter where Kip starts to fiddle with some machinery. Uncle Kip is discreet. I'm not worried about the uninterested lanky teen who's since gone back to his reading.

  He looks at my mold and says somewhat under his breath, "Humph. I don't know about this." His eyes travel to my face. "Might be sticky."

  "I know. Do the best you can. It's better than paying to get the locks changed on my unit."

  "Yeah," Kip replies. He looks up at me with a look of discernment.

  I figure out that he knows I'm lying through my teeth, so I just stop talking. A few minutes and a bit of small talk later, Kip hands me a shiny new key.

  "Thanks a bunch. You have no idea how much you've helped me."

  "No problem," he says.

  "You need a receipt?" It's the long-haired kid talking again. This time, he's got a new magazine.

  "She don't need a receipt," Kip offers, giving me a slight nod. "Plus, it's on the house."

  "You don't ha—"

  "You're a friend of Patricia's. It’s cool." He waves me off. "Go on, now." Spoken just like an uncle. I can tell Kip's had practice at this.

  "Thanks again. Good to meet you."

  Outside, I unlock the car I've rented under Nelly's name and head back to the Kimpton to meet Kevin for our lunch date. I'd much rather skip to the dessert.

  ***

  In his voicemail, Kevin had said to meet him in suite 1017, on the top floor of the Kimpton. I knock, anxious about what he has up his sleeve. The door is promptly opened by a white-gloved concierge who extends a hand toward a seating area in the vast penthouse suite.

  "Right this way, Miss Haley," he says crisply.

  I sit at the table as directed, looking around for Kevin. I don't want to seem too eager, but surely I'm intrigued.

  "Would you like a root beer float, Miss Haley?"

  I stare at him, confused, although I do manage to reply, "A what?"

  "I also have sparkling water and ginger ale." His face is serious.

  I smile, for the first time noticing the beverage cart. "No, I think I'll take the float."

  "Very well then," he replies, turning to fix my drink.

  A beaming Kevin walks in, a boyish grin on his face. "Great, I see you've met Jeeves!"

  The concierge scowls without even hiding it. I snicker and turn to face a cheery Kevin decked in a bright pink polo shirt, khaki shorts and a pair of cinnamon-colored boat shoes.

  "That's not appropriate," I say, playfully scolding him.

  "True." He looks at the concierge as a root beer float is also placed in front of him. "Sorry."

  Without a word, the concierge scurries off, presumably to retrieve our lunch.

  "You look lovely," Kevin says, fondling the fabrics of my flowing madras skirt and tight-fitting tank top.

  "Thanks." I'm smiling. I've ditched the bra again. I figured there was no point.

  "Did I mention that you're absolutely stunning?"

  "Maybe a couple of times."

  Kevin laughs as our meals come and are set in front of us. I look up and he's watching me for a reaction.

  "Really?" I ask. "Burgers and fries?"

  "Don't they go well with root beer floats?" he asks. "Wait—you don't eat meat?"

  "Of course I eat meat," I say, shaking my head. "You're certainly not run of the mill, Kevin."

  "I'd agree with that. Shall we?" He motions to our plates before dousing his fries with malt vinegar.

  I follow his lead, adding ketchup and dig in, taking a sip of my float for the first time. "Delicious. I haven't had junk food in a while."

  "I figured that. You can barely get most women with your kind of body to eat."

  "I'm not afraid of food," I say, laughing. "You crack me up."

  "In a good way or a bad way?"

  "Definitely good."

  The burgers—juicy, flavorful and covered with aged cheddar—are amazing. We both finish our plates completely, swiping little puddles of ketchup with the equally amazing hand-cut fries. At the end of our meal, I'm stuffed, but Kevin has more surprises. Two massage therapists enter to set up their tables as our plates are being collected. I sit still for a minute, watching the sun dance across the water through the window. I'm a peace right now. Even with the fact that I'm going to steal from Kevin. Everything is absolutely beautiful.

  The massage was just what I needed. Sonja's expert hands worked out
every kink and tension in my body and the wonderful smell of her essential oils filled the room. As she lays a warm blanket over my back at the end of our session, I turn my head in the direction of Kevin's table to find him watching me. We share a silent smile, happiness flickering in both our eyes. I again tell myself I'm not falling in love. And besides, I really wouldn't know what it would feel like.

  Then how do I know I'm not?

  I turn my head away from his direction, my thoughts suddenly heavy. I'm aware of his eyes on my back and it's making me uncomfortable.

  "That was wonderful," I say, hopping up from the table naked. Kevin slowly peels his body from the table as well.

  "Yes, yes it was," he says, quietly.

  I turn to face him. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  "I don't believe you."

  "You're not going to let this happen are you?"

  I stiffen. "Let what happen, Kevin? What's happening?"

  "Us … this right here." He walks toward me, his stride confident even in nakedness. I can't help but look at his manhood, already throbbing with desire.

  Sonja and her cohort slink out, closing the door quietly but firmly behind them. I'd forgotten they were there.

  "I don't—"

  Before I could finish, his lips find mine, his expert tongue creeps inside of my mouth. Instantly, a creamy release coats my lips and my nipples harden. Grasping my ass cheeks, Kevin pulls me upward to straddle him and I willingly wrap my legs around his strong waist. I don't even think I breathe as we kiss … rapid, hot and hurried, sucking each other like it's for the last time. And I realize that it might be, given my plans for tomorrow.

  I squirm, and he releases his grip on me. My mouth makes a wet trail down his torso, finally landing small kisses on his very hard dick. I rub his smooth shaft, allowing it to rub my nipples, my chest, even my cheeks. The tip of my tongue finds the tip of his hardness to taste the nectar there.