1930s Chicago. Notorious gangster Tom "Tommy Gun" Holland has been storming his way through Cook County, robbing banks and breaking hearts. One day you find yourself in the wrong place, at the wrong time when he makes a hit on your bank. There's...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Get up!"
You felt someone shake you from your slumber. You opened your eyes slowly to find a frantic Tommy throwing your clothes at you. You stretched and yawned, looking around in a dazed state. A part of you thought you maybe dreamed all of yesterday. Honestly, who would have thunk when you woke up yesterday that you'd be in this bed, smelling like sex and sore from all those tasty things Tommy did to you all night. You'd be amazed if you could even walk.
"Di!" Tommy whisper yelled from the window. He was already completely dressed and peered through the curtains with narrowed eyes. "We gotta scram, dollface, get dressed."
Tommy yanked the blanket off of you, exposing your naked body. You made no attempt to cover yourself, instead you stretched some more. He hesitated for a second, eyeing you up and down with a devilish smirk. You writhed on the sheets, pouting and whining about it being too early, all the while you made sure to give him a nice show.
He shook his head and grabbed you by the arm to sit you up. You wrenched your arm from his grip and tilted your head with a sinful smile. You were perfectly eye level with his growing groin.
"Good morning, handsome," you teased, speaking to his crotch. You eagerly reached for his trousers and started to unbutton them. Tommy held your hands to stop you, then grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.
"Get. Dressed," he said sternly and succinctly. You pulled your face away from his paws and gave a haughty huff. Boy, he was no fun in the morning.
You dressed as quickly as you could. Tommy resumed his watch from behind the curtains. His form was tense but nervous. His fingertips tapped against his thigh in an irritating rhythm.
"What is it?" you asked, buckling your shoes. Tommy looked over at you, seeing you dressed and hoisted the rucksack of money on his shoulder.
"Trouble," Tommy said with a slight smile. This man thrived on trouble it seemed.
You waltzed over to him and grinned. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go," you said with sass.
"That's what I - never mind," he grumbled in an exasperated tone. You liked pushing his buttons like that. Getting him worked up in any way usually ended up with your legs spread, and that was alright by you.
"Where are you going?" you asked. Tommy moved away from the front door and towards the bathroom.
"An alternate exit," he winked, then stood on the commode to reach the window. He waved you over and folded his hands together for a boost.
You braced yourself on his shoulders and stepped into his hands. He hoisted you to the sill with a grunt.
"Save your grunts for the lovemaking. I'm not that heavy," you snapped. Tommy laughed and placed his palms on your rear end to push you through. He groped and squeezed your cheeks unnecessarily so. You were having a time trying to pull yourself through.
"Is that what we were doing?" Tommy teased then took a chomp of fabric and flesh between his teeth.
"Ow! You animal!" you squealed then he pushed you out the rest of the way. You turned around on your hand and knees in the dirt and reached down to help him out. You pulled with all your strength until he shot out like some champagne cork. He landed on top of you in a cloud of dust.
The weight of him was nearly smothering. He definitely was heavier than he looked. Solid, like some statue chiseled out of marble. Like that one from that Italian guy. What's his name.
"What was all that stuff you said about lovemaking?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"What?" you wiggled beneath him. Now he wanted to have a conversation? In the dirt?
"Is that what you think this is, doll? Love?" he asked with a calculated stare. It was like he already knew your answer, but wished he hadn't.
"What? No. I don't even know you. Can you get off me for Pete's sake?" you glared at him.
"Give me a kiss first," he demanded.
"What? What about we gotta scram?" you asked baffled at his change in behavior. He was like a faucet, this one. Hot and cold, hot and cold.
"Give me a kiss," he repeated.
You huffed and kissed him. His tongue immediately slid past your lips. His hand wandered up your waist and cupped your breast, giving a squeeze. You lifted your hips, pressing against that man of marble. He tugged on your bottom lip with a little growl then suddenly and swiftly pushed himself off you. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his trousers then bent over to help you off the ground.
You reeled a bit from the kiss. Your fingertips touched your lips delicately then stopped when you noticed him watching you.
"I don't know, Di," he said, lifting the rucksack back onto his shoulder. He gave you a half grin and a wink.
