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...
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"Do you always sleep in the nude?" Tommy murmured against your lips. You leaned into his kiss, running your fingers through his damp hair. He hovered over you, freshly cleaned and warm from the bath water. He smelled of soap and still had beads of water along his collarbone. The flame of the bedside candle licked his shirtless form, casting light and shadow over every magnificent muscle.
"Would you like me to put something on?" you teased, propping yourself up on your elbows. The sheet slipped down and you made no attempt to cover yourself.
Tommy grinned and shook his head slowly.
"Don't you dare," he growled and crawled in next to you. You giggled and feigned slapping at his groping hands. He pinched and squeezed and slid you closer to him.
"I don't know how you expect me to get any sleep with you like this," he said, planting kisses on your shoulder.
"Since when do you sleep?" you said, cocking an eyebrow at him. He didn't sleep at all at the motel. Every sound made his eyes dart around. Every flash of light caused him to stir. He eventually sat in the chair, facing the door with pistol in hand until the sun rose.
"You've got a point there," he sighed against your ear. He rolled onto his back hooked his arm around your shoulders. You laid your head on his chest, listening, searching for something that beat inside.
"This is the most relaxed I've seen you," you said against his skin. His chest rose and fell with his breathing. It was soothing for you, like floating out to sea.
"This is the closest thing I've got to a home," he said.
You turned to look at him, resting your chin on his chest.
"I'm sorry about your brother," you said softly. He looked down at you with a crinkle in his brow.
"He was better than all of us," was all he said, then went back to staring at the ceiling. You left it alone. You didn't want to pry and frankly what he's given you already way more than you expected.
But then he continued.
"He wasn't responsible for what happened. He was just as devastated as everyone else. He just wanted to help. He emptied his pockets, giving people money. He would have given them the shirt off his back were it not bloodied. They threw the man who shot him in jail, making his family even more destitute without a provider. But I don't blame him. In the confusion Sammy caught a bullet. It could have been anyone. I do blame these banks. They keep taking and taking. And their purses get fatter and their bellies get bigger. They created this Depression. They created this crippling storm across the nation and they just stand there in the rain with thunderclouds rolling overhead and they wonder why they're getting wet. It's infuriating."
He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. He was rigid and restrained beneath you. You crawled up to his face and kissed that sharp jawline. He skin was baby smooth and he tasted like shaving cream. You placed another kiss right below the first. Then another until his jaw softened and he turned his head to catch a kiss on the lips.
"Sneaky devil," you smiled, lips still pressed against his.
"Filthy angel," he murmured with a grin.
You slapped his arm playfully.
"I'm perfectly clean," you pouted.
"Oh, I can tell...," he said, running his mouth over your throat. He wrapped those warm and sturdy arms around you and buried his face in your skin. He breathed you in and out with a long, content groan. You felt every bit of tension he held slowly slip away. You wondered if he ever felt at peace or was the this closest he would get. When is enough enough? Robbing banks ain't gonna bring back the dead.
"You ever think you can stop moving, Tommy?" you whispered, cheek on his chest. Then you heard it clear as day, beating in a beautiful rhythm. His heart.
"When it's done," he said cryptically. You sighed and listened to the steady beating. It was entrancing, like a spell. He's certainly bewitched you the moment he grabbed you in that bank. Such a thrilling touch from an exciting stranger. You were instantly his. You wondered if you would even care for a sedentary lifestyle. Would the thrill fade over bowls of oatmeal every morning with yes dears and honey do's? Could you see Handsome braiding your little girl's hair? The thought made you smile. But then you thought about how he was around his nephews, so gentle but stern. The only father figure they had. He slipped into the role with ease. And it made him seem even more becoming.
His heart sped up some and you lifted your head to look at him. He was staring at you with an admiring smile on his face. You smiled back.
"What is it?" you asked with a little laugh. He just grabbed your face and pulled you to his lips. You writhed against him as his hands wandered down to your hips. He gripped you firmly and pressed his hips flush with yours. You moaned when his tongue slipped past your lips, enticing yours to twist and twirl along with his.
He rolled you over and deepened the kiss with a desire that was new for him. There was no urgency in it. No taking what he wanted. It was emphatic and passionate, as if he was conveying a sentiment, something that was too complicated to be spoken. Lord knows, Handsome wasn't one for expressing himself. But this would do. Your fine gentleman made sure you felt every convoluted corner of that heart of his in that kiss and more.
Your fingertips traced the toned and taut ridges of his back. They slipped down to his shorts, pulling them off. He covered your body with his. There was something so very protective about his maneuvering. Every delicate touch from his hands made you feel coveted and precious. He held your thigh and entered you slowly. It seemed he was savoring your skin on his. His deliberation excited you equally as much as when he took you with rough and violent intentions.
You opened yourself to him, embracing his torso with your thighs. He sunk himself inside you fully and the sensation nearly made you scream. You bit your lip to stifle yourself. He licked his and stole another kiss from you. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging slightly. The other rested on his rear, guiding him as he dipped himself in and out of you.
He pulled his lips away and watched you. His breath was shaky and halted with each slide. His damp curls hung off his forehead, tickling your face. His eyes consumed you with devotion, holding yours the entire time until they closed with a moan.
You arched your back from the bed. He ran his tongue all along your breasts, softly biting, tenderly teasing.
"Tommy...," you breathed with longing. His body commanded yours with every thrust. The pleasure was becoming too great. Your heart felt as if it would burst forth from your chest.
He brought his lips to yours again. His rhythm increased with his want, hands caressing the flesh under your thigh. Wider you spread, welcoming him deeper. He fingers drifted over and began stroking your sweet spot. You gasped and grabbed both sides of his head.
"Yes, Tommy," you panted. He kissed your breath away, groaning from his own pleasure. His hands roamed into your hair and he pulled away to gaze at you.
"I love you, Di," he whispered then sent a resounding thrust inside, as if punctuating his declaration. You gasped loudly, coming closer. Higher you lifted yourself, pressing into him with elated moans. His burning breath rasped against your neck as he let himself go in a series of grunts.
He trembled blissfully in your arms. You kissed the sweat from his temple. Your bodies hummed harmoniously.
He slumped down next you and pulled you close to him. You leaned on his shoulder, beneath his arm. You could feel the blood coursing through him, pumping from that heart that you weren't even sure existed until moments ago.
"Tommy?" you glanced up at him. His eyes were closed, lashes laying beautifully against his cheeks. He didn't stir at all. He was sound asleep. You kissed his chest lightly before you laid your head back down.
