The Perfect Con (A Bad Boy Romance Novel) (Bad Boy Confessions Book 1) (11 page)

I didn’t relent until she sagged back, shaking gently, little more than a pile of electrified nerve endings now. She whimpered, even as my chin merely brushed her lower belly, departing.

“Sofi,” I said to her. I was heady, but I was calm. My fix was coursing through my veins. I needed to make her come like a junkie. I stood and wiped my soaked chin, smiling at her as I shook my head. “You were supposed to be quiet.”

Her curls were wet. They clung to her temples with sweat. Her eyes were glassy with satisfaction.

“I know, but I—you—”

“Sh, sh, sh, sh.” I laid a finger over her lips. “That was a very bad girl.” My thumb roved her bottom lip; its plushness was intoxicating. I’d never seen a lip so round and soft, so pink. She was like a fucking rosebud.

My hand went to my lapel and tugged the handkerchief from it, then pried her mouth open and shoved the silk square into it. I got a kind of savage gratification from the way her eyes bulged at me. “Mma mer moo mooey?” she asked.

She’d find out what I was doing soon enough.

The whole element of surprise is part of the magic itself.

One hand traveled down to my zipper, unfastening, while the other expertly scooped her ass up and deposited it onto the shelf beneath the phone. It would be no mystery to any passerby what we were doing now, but all our sweating and panting had clouded the glass sections so much, they looked frosted. She was probably going to leave her ass print on that little shelf, but I was several leagues beyond caring by now.

My cock practically exploded from behind my zipper, and shot into her with all the primal instinct of a predator dancing with its prey. The phone booth began immediately to tremble with our movements—so much for any hint of mystery. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care. Exquisite pleasure bolted up my spine and rioted inside my head. She was such an unbelievable perfect fit—like a glove in a fairy tale. Like I could search the entire kingdom for a fit this perfect…

Sofi’s head rolled back as we found a rhythm (and a sensational stroke) easily, immediately; she was dripping and I was rigid. We were together in one second, magnetically. I drove myself into her, full to the hilt, again and again, and she moaned, the sound dampened by the wad of kerchief in her mouth, protruding in folds like a silk bloom. I could see my initials sewn into its corner there, a stamp on her open mouth: L.B.

Mine. Mine, mine, mine…

I buried my face into her hair and filled her repeatedly, not making a sound. Her nails bit into my shoulders and my free hand slammed into the glass pane at her back; the print it left dripped and the phone dangled from its receiver in all the scuffling, sounding off with a distant dial tone. I drove into Sofi with a consistent beat, madly, viciously, nowhere near as gentle and careful as I had been on the beach and twice as deep as we had been in the car. The phone booth shuddered and rocked with my thrusts now and her wonderful pussy gripped me in a trembling embrace and we were probably about to go spilling sideways onto the sidewalk but she came again anyway, shrieking “Meeeooo! Meeooo!” into the gag. I think she might have been literally weeping at this point.

I slammed into her hips, meeting her in the middle, and did what I had refused to do ever since I’d met her: I let go. The visible world swirled away and I unraveled into her all the cum from our sessions before, jetting in spasms of agonizing joy, so tense one minute—veins bulging, sweat flowing—and dissolving in the next. Suddenly, I could have been a fucking zen master for the amount of nirvana I had attained. I leaned my sopping forehead into the crook of her shoulder and grunted like I was in pain as the last of my juice shot into her. God, yes. Fuck yes.

Very slowly, my eyes came back into focus.

This was no good. This was no good at all.

I wanted to die right here and now for this woman. She was the most beautiful and perfect thing I’d ever encountered.

“Mm,” Sofi said from behind the silk still shoved in her mouth.

I grasped the tip of the kerchief and let it unravel from between her teeth.

“What?” I gasped, still unable to fully stand.

“I said ‘wow,’” Sofi sighed. “We should fight more often.”

“Mm-hmm,” I grumbled. “That stupid restaurant really brings out the beasts in us.”

“What’s that sound?” Sofi asked.

“What--?” It was only then that I could consciously register the plaintive bleating of the disconnected phone, still swinging around my kneecaps. “Oh. The phone.” I scooped it up and slammed it back onto the receiver, exhaling heavily and finally pulling to a full stand. I helped Sofi down from that little table and shuttered open the phone booth door. She hobbled out into the night like a newborn calf, and I followed, high as a kite.

That elderly woman who had pulled her blouse tight and given me a dirty look before was standing there again. If I thought her look was dirty before, it made this one look like pure mud being hurled at us as we walked away, my arm around Sofi’s waist, supporting her unsteady gait. I was as bedraggled and victorious as a heavyweight boxer claiming his title. Mine. Mine, mine, mine.

W
ednesday morning had a slow start
. I woke up slowly, fluttering my eyelashes like a goddamn Disney princess. I stretched leisurely and I took my time in the shower. Then I took my time picking out the perfect top. I descended the staircase on a dreamy cloud of a hundred orgasms, and there was Madeline, standing in Uncle Ronaldo’s kitchen, enjoying a cherry Popsicle. My nose curled.

Ever since she’d blurted out that she would “party” with Leo, something had changed between us, whether she knew it or not.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” Madeline greeted me coolly. I strode to the pantry and fished out a bag of ground dark roast and coffee filters, not looking at her.

“Eating a Popsicle for breakfast, huh? Isn’t Luna here?” I asked snidely. Luna was the chef who could fulfill your heart’s every last desire. I took the dark roast to the coffee pot and opened it.

“I’m actually eating a Popsicle for late, late dinner,” Madeline said.

“Of course you are,” I grumbled, inserting the filter above the coffee pot.

“Still mad, huh?”

“No,” I lied, gently filling the filter with fresh grounds. “I did the reasonable, adult thing, and I talked to Leo about it. Everything’s fine.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, that’s good. Good for you.”

I took a cup from the cupboard and filled the back of the coffee machine with fresh water, careful to not slam anything and give away my annoyance. “Ahem. What?” I said, frowning at Madeline from over my shoulder. She wore a smug expression of assumed innocence.

“I said that was good for you. So, did you accuse him, and then there was a round of the best sex you’ve ever had?” she asked, still wide-eyed.

I hesitated, then turned from her and slammed the back of the coffee machine down, jamming my finger into the ON button. “Maybe,” I answered shortly.

“Classic.” Madeline gave a little sniff and pivoted. I stared hard at the coffee pot as it percolated, spreading my palms across the counter and feeling the stress from our conversation settle right onto my shoulders. Maybe she had a point. What if all this sex was just a tactic to keep me distracted? Damn it. I snatched the pot out of the machine and poured it into a cup, staring down at the steamy abyss. Leo and I had to talk. Again. Right after I chugged this liquid strength. And no sexy interruptions this time!

* * *

T
he Battista estate
was every bit as sweeping and palatial as Uncle Ronaldo’s private stretch of beach. It was obvious that Leo was as accomplished a financier as a thief. I knocked and knocked again, then rang the doorbell, a frown culminating on my brow. Was no one home in this whole huge house—

I was stretching my hand forward to ring the bell one final time when the door popped open.

My jaw dropped. In front of me stood a stunning hulk of a man, with sandy, shoulder-length hair and dazzling sky blue eyes. He wore a thin white t-shirt, which betrayed his chiseled pectorals and abdomen, and loose gray jeans rolled over his ankles. He was barefoot. “Sorry about that,” he said, his eyes ticking over me thoughtfully. He was wiping his hands with a damp cloth. “I was cleaning out the gutters on the other side of the house. Can I help you?”

“Don’t tell me you’re another Battista brother,” I said, laughing breathlessly. “That would just be too much.”

“Ah, afraid not,” he answered. “Just one of their many associates. My name is Maximiliano. Or Max. And who are you, beautiful?”

In spite of being friendly, he was also discerning, which I guess was good. Maybe I was a little disappointed that Leo hadn’t been telling the world and showing everyone my picture.

“My name is Sofia,” I told him. “I’m—a friend of Leo’s.”

Max scrutinized me with a little quirk in his lip, blue eyes turning to a smolder. His eyes trailed me from head to toe, unabashed. “Ah, so you’re Sofia,” he said, biting down on his lower lip with an unmistakable air of what almost seemed like greed. “Now it all makes sense. But, as luck would have it, Mr. Battista has departed for the day.”

“Oh.” My mouth turned down.
Now it all makes sense?
What could that possibly mean? “Do you know where he went? Or when he’ll be back?”

“I’m not privy,” Max said. “But if it were up to me, you could stay as long as you liked. Would you like me to call the other Mr. Battista down? Gabriel?”

“Oh, erm,” I said, wondering if Leo had told Gabe about the antique jewelry collection Spider had snatched out from beneath him for me. But then, “Sure,” popped out of my mouth. Maybe what I needed was a second opinion.

Max ushered me into the foyer before loping up the stairs to find Gabe. Damn. I peered around the corner of the kitchen, toward the living room. How many other gigantic supermodels were hidden in here? Was there a machine in the basement or something?

Max returned with Gabe and winked at me. “If you need anything—anything at all—”

Gabe clapped him on the shoulder, applying a subtle pressure to propel him out of the room. “She’ll call Leo,” he finished for their associate. “Thanks, Max.”

I wondered if I could ask Gabe about this? Or would that broach some bro code?

After the blond had exited the room, Gabe glanced over at me and smiled. “He’s a hard worker, but don’t let him fool you into relaxing. I’d be careful around him. He’d sell ya for a pittance. Loooves money.” Then Gabe winked. “So, lucky lady,” he said. “I was just packing up to head out of town for a few days. Visiting another lucky lady, not half as beautiful as yourself. I’m setting up another…project. And, of course, Leo will never know. He flitters off and just has no idea how much I do while he’s gone.” He smiled winsomely. “Now, what can I do you for?”

“Um, I was just—looking for Leo.” Do it. Do it, do it, do it. You have to know. “Actually, maybe you can help me figure something out.”

“Probably not,” Gabe said. “But shoot. Let’s try and see.”

I pressed my lips together and forced the words into my throat. “Does he have some kind of angle here?” I blurted. “Is he trying to start shit with my uncle? Does he do this a lot—use sex to lower a woman’s—”

“Standards?” Gabe asked, smile broadening to a grin.

“—guard,” I finished, scowling at him. I could suddenly see why Leo had developed to be so tense and serious. “Then, after the message is sent, or whatever, he’ll forget all about me. Like it was just another part of the plan. I just want to know what I should be feeling here. Nothing?” I shrugged and shook my head, dizzy at this thought. “Everything?”

“Well.” The smile faded from Gabe’s face and my chest clutched. Oh my god, I was right. I was right about everything. “I can’t say a lot. But I can say that he does not do this all the time. ‘Never’ might be the word for it.” Gabe gestured to the living room. “You want to have a seat with me?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.” As we walked, I couldn’t keep my mouth from spilling out all my thoughts. “It’s just that you told Madeline something at Rainbow Disco that’s gotten inside my head—well, she’s gotten inside my head, anyway. She’s such a bitch when she wants to be.”

“That Madeline.” Gabe collapsed onto the sofa and propped his feet on a leather ottoman. “And here I thought she was too fucked up to remember a damn word. She’s much more perceptive than she looks, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know about ‘much’.” I cleared my throat and took a seat alongside him. “But she did warn me that it’s really unusual for the Battistas to come to the Castillos for help.”

“Unusual?” Gabe scoffed.

“She used the word ‘enemies,’” I added.

Gabe leaned his head from side to side, weighing the term. “That’s—that’s more accurate,” he allowed. “Competitors, perhaps.”

“And then—Leo—he just—comes out of nowhere, and wants me on this job,” I went on, not really looking at Gabe as I spoke, “even though he doesn’t know anything about my skill level—which, I’ll admit, is basically ‘amateur’ in comparison with you guys—and he keeps—you know—with me, and I’m just, I’m worried that—that it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just to send a message to my uncle or something. Is that it? Oh, god, that’s it, isn’t it?” I squeezed my eyes half shut and winced away from the words I knew were coming. “You can tell me. I’m a big girl. I can take it. I won’t tell him.”

Gabe pursed his lips and patted my knee. I finally really looked at him. “To tell you the truth, Leo and I aren’t that close when it comes to women,” he said. “He is very private with his own affairs, and he—well—begs me to do the same. But I can say that I’ve never seen him like this. And, uh…” He frowned. “That’s all I’ll say. I’ve never seen him like this. I honestly don’t know what he’s going to do next.”

My heart fluttered at the words, and I tried to batten it back down.

“Really?” I asked. “He’s so—gorgeous—”

“Pfft,” Gabe managed.

“I’m a little surprised. In our business, and just in life, a man like Leo could have anyone.”

“Again, pfft. If you think he’s hot, I must completely mystify your senses. He doesn’t remind you of—like—I don’t know—a block of wood?”

I tried to tamp down my grin. “In certain places.”

“Like in his head?”

“No, I meant—” I began, but Gabe’s eyes were twinkling at me.

“I know what you meant,” he said. His eyes lit across me and he smiled softly. “I’m a people-person. Leo is…not. He found his strength elsewhere.”

“Using your best people-person instincts,” I asked, “do you think he’s always going to be so—?”

“Pissy?” Gabe suggested.

“I was going to say ‘rigid,’ but ‘pissy’ works too.”

Gabe shook his head, but then his eyes shifted to me and something else flashed there. Something like pity. I pursed my lips, preparing for the worst, but all he said was, “I wouldn’t worry about it, Sofia. There are worse things in the world than breaking up. Maybe he’ll outgrow his issue. Maybe not. Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. I can feel it. You’re a strong girl, taste in men aside.”

I swallowed. “Thanks, Gabe.”

Somehow, it didn’t make me feel any better.