Nancy Collins Angels on Fire

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other floors housed a karate studio, a professional fortune teller, and a
travel agency that specialized in air fare to and from Puerto Rico and Latin
America. The ground floor lobby smelled of piss and the Chinese take-out
kitchen next door.
They were giggling and leaning heavily on one another, their hands traveling
in, over, between and through one another's arms, legs and clothes as they
waited for the elevator to arrive. When the door opened, the car was at least
a foot below the lip of the door. Lucy hesitated, but Nevin ushered her in and
punched the button for his floor. The car yo-yoed slightly, as if trying to
decide if it was going to crash into the basement or not, then began its
gradual climb upwards.
Nevin's loft was large, by Manhattan standards-easily the size of Lucy's
apartment, but without any interior walls-and what realtors in the city liked
to call "unfinished," which meant that its walls were naked sheet rock, the
wiring exposed, and the closest thing to a bathroom was a toilet located next
to a fiberglass shower stall in the corner.
When Nevin clicked on the solitary overhead light-a feeble
forty--watter-roaches scuttled for cover amidst the dirty clothes, discarded
fast--food wrappers, half-empty containers from the Chinese take-out
downstairs, and old newspapers that covered the floor. The only furnishings
consisted of a stained mattress lacking bedclothes and a combination
nightstand/ coffee table made from a pair of cinder blocks and a two-by-four.
Normally, Lucy would have fled such a seduction chamber, but the circumstances
were far from normal. She had wrested Nevin back from Gwenda's avaricious
clutches, but her position was tenuous. Her desire for Nevin was even greater
now she knew he was bad for her. It was the same thrill that came from driving
too fast, juggling a knife, or playing Russian roulette, only with a greater
potential for disaster.
Nevin's mouth was warm and wet on her neck as he reached for the fly of her
jeans. He deftly removed her T-shirt, exposing her lace bra. Lucy's hands were
equally busy, but nowhere near as sure, as she fumbled with the buttons on his
shirt.
After a moment spent working the clasp of her brassiere, her breasts were
finally exposed. Nevin lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his
mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. She ran her hands through the
curly mass of his hair, giggling foolishly as he glanced up at her from
between her breasts. Her panties were soaking. She wanted him inside her so
badly her breath was catching in her throat.
Nevin pulled her onto the mattress. It smelled slightly of mildew and dried j
ism, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that Nevin was rubbing himself
against her thigh, the head of his penis nudging her like the nose of a hungry
pony.
As he slid into her, her skin prickled and her hips rolled against his,
thrusting toward him. She ground herself against him, her tongue flicking his
earlobe. Her mouth sought and found his own, locking them in a deep, involved
kiss, tongues twining about one another like mating snakes. He tasted of
bourbon and cigarettes.
She reached behind him and grabbed Nevin's buttocks with eager fingers,
kneading the hard little apples of his ass the way she knew he liked. Nevin
groaned and increased his stroke, slamming her into the mattress.
Suddenly Nevin tossed back his curly head and gave voice to something between
a groan and a shout. He bit his lower lip, eyes narrowing until they looked
like gun slits; as his orgasm shook him from the inside out.
Nevin promptly rolled off and collapsed onto the mattress beside her, gasping
like he'd just broken the tape at the end of a race. They lay there for a long
while, the sweat cooling on their naked limbs, until Lucy rolled onto her side
and nudged him.
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"What about Gwenda?" she asked.
"What about her?" Nevin said, drowsily.
"What are you going to tell her? About us, I mean?"
"You leave that to me," he replied.
"She's going to know something's going on when you don't come home."
Nevin sighed and sat up, reaching for an open pack of Gitanes sitting on the
makeshift nightstand. "Lucy, you've got to understand-even though I want us to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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