Steve paused, looked left and right, then tugged me to the left.

  “Hey, hey, what we got here?”

  A group of four men were suddenly in front of us. They wore scarves around their faces, pulled over their noses, and hoods pulled up tight.

  Menace drifted off them in waves. They were out for blood and a fight. I could tell. Their eyes flashed with excitement and hate.

  “A man of the cloth and his pretty woman. Not supposed to be having any of that, are you, Father,” the apparent leader of the gang said, then turned to his posse and laughed.

  “Well it is a free for all night,” one of his mates retorted. “So I reckon he can have a shag, get the dust off his dick.”

  Steve pushed me behind him, trapping me between his body and the wall. “Fuck off, all of you.”

  “That’s not very fucking Christian of you, is it?” the gang leader said. “We only want a look at the bit of pussy you got there.”

  “I’ve got nothing for you. Leave us alone.”

  I pressed up against the rucksack, knowing it was stuffed full of cash. Why couldn’t we just be left to make our way to safety?

  “Yeah, he’ll have to say a bunch of Hail Mary’s for shagging that whore,” one of the guys laughed. He had a deep, heavily accented voice, I wasn’t sure where he was from but I suspected Spain.

  “Get out of my way,” Steve said, “now.”

  “Or else what.” The leader stepped closer, with a confident swagger.

  “Let us pass,” Steve said. “I won’t tell you again.”

  “And I won’t tell you again, we want a look at your bit of pussy, maybe have a play too.” Suddenly he pulled out a knife and held it forward. The steel blade caught the light of a lamppost and it glinted menacingly. “I want her. Now.”

  Steve tensed and drew in a deep breath. He lifted up his cassock and pulled out a small handgun. “I said, get out of my way, asshole.”

  “Hey, hey.” The gang leader raised his hands above his head. Knife now pointing at the night sky. “Easy man. We didn’t mean no harm.”

  “Sure you didn’t.” Steve stepped forward.

  I followed.

  “So just fuck off and go and pray for forgiveness.” Steve kept walking.

  I stuck to him like glue. I figured the gun had been from the guy back at the bell tower. Thank goodness he’d picked it up.

  “Chill out, Father,” one of the other guys said.

  Steve swung the end of the gun around the group. He held it steady, as if it were familiar in his hand. “You’ve got five seconds to be out of my sight.”

  “Or else what?” Despite his words the bravado had left the leader’s voice.

  “I start shooting. I shot one guy back there which leaves five bullets.” He aimed the gun over the gang, fired, and shot a hole through a hanging pub sign. The pub was called The Bull’s Head and he fired straight through the eye of the snorting cartoon bull on the sign. “There goes another one.” He nodded at the sign, now swinging violently. “And as you can see I’m a fucking good shot.”

  “Fuck a duck,” one of the guys said. “He ain’t kidding, bruv.”

  “Too damn right I’m not.” Steve aimed the gun at the leader once more. “Fuck off. I won’t say it again.”

  The leader glared at Steve for a moment then he swung his attention to his mates. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Plenty more where she came from.”

  Their running footsteps clattered around the walls of the high buildings. Within seconds they were eaten by the shadows and it was if they’d never been there.

  “Christ Almighty,” I muttered, and released the grip I had on Steve’s clothing.

  “Wankers,” he said. “Come on.”

  He led the way forward, holding my hand and the gun.

  I felt safer now I knew he had a weapon. Much as guns abhorred me. I’d never even touched one let alone fired one, knowing he had one and could use it made me think we had a chance of getting out of this hellhole.

  We kept on going, took a right onto Ponseable Street, then a left down Newark Avenue. There were people about, drunk youths, a few fires burning in skips, but no one bothered us.

  “I can hardly hear it now,” I said, breathlessly. “The riot.”

  “No, we’re away from the center of it.” He tucked the gun away. “We’ll keep walking though. My place is in Newington. We’ll crash there.”

  “That’s ages away.”

  “Yeah, well, nothing we can do about that. No buses running around here tonight.”

  He was right. This part of London had turned into a ghost town. Despite the riots being some distance away all the houses seemed to be in darkness. Curtains pulled tight, lights off.

  ****

  Eventually we reached Newington Road. Much to my relief Steve stopped at the first block of apartments.

  He keyed in a few numbers and the door opened with a buzz.

  “In.” He set his hand in the small of my back and propelled me into the dimly lit lobby.

  As the door shut, blocking me from the outside world, a sense of calm washed through me.

  I’d done it.

  Made it out of there in one piece.

  It had been the worst night of my life. By far. One I never wanted to repeat. But thank goodness I was still breathing and my heart still beating.

  “It’s a few floors up,” he said. “We’ll use the stairs, elevator is dodgy.”

  “Okay.” What difference did a bit further make? I’d been marching and running all day.

  We came to the fourth floor and he led me out into the open. A long, concrete balcony led to a seemingly endless row of doors.

  I glanced at the London skyline. The smoke had hazed the majestic rooftops and landmarks, and helicopters swarmed, their bright lights darting left and right.

  I shuddered. I wanted nothing more than a hot shower, a cup of tea and to forget about the nastiness of human nature.

  “This one,” Steve said, stopping and fishing a small brass Yale key from his pocket. He opened a blue door that was ready for another lick of paint. “After you.”

  I stepped into the dark hallway.

  Steve did the same and shut the door. He slid a chain into place and flicked the lock.

  “You’ll be fine in here,” he said, setting his hands on my shoulders.

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes.” He paused. “I just got you across London didn’t I, the way I said I would?”

  “You did, thank you.”

  “And I haven’t made you do anything tonight you didn’t want to, have I?”

  I turned to him.

  He flicked a light switch, and a bare bulb glared from just behind where he stood.

  “No. You haven’t.”

  “And you enjoyed it, in the church, when it was just us and you thought you were fucking a priest?”

  I studied his eyes. They were full of male cockiness and I had a mind to kick him in the shins. But there was something else. A softness that I suspected didn’t surface very often.

  I smiled. I couldn’t deny I hadn’t enjoyed it and he knew that. “So are you going to count your money? From your looting.”

  “I might, later.” He stepped away and shucked off his cassock. He threw it into the corner of the hallway where it lay rumpled. He then let the rucksack fall from his back, catching the strap in his right hand. “But right now I need a fucking drink.”

  “Me too.”

  He stepped past me, into a kitchen. “What do you want? Say tea and you can leave right now.”

  I shut my mouth. The word tea had been about to be uttered.

  “I’ve got whiskey or brandy.”

  “Brandy, please.”

  From the cupboard he pulled out a bottle of amber liquid and two mugs. He sloshed brandy into each. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” I took it. “What shall we toast?”

  “To getting out of there with assets.”

  “Assets.”

  “Yeah, I got cash and a woman. That’s a pretty decent night’s work.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “And what did I get?”

  “You got me, baby.” He knocked back his drink, then smacked his lips together. “Ahh…”

  I laughed. It was a strange, almost hysterical sound, not my usual laugh.

  “Drink,” he ordered, refilling his mug.

  I did. The burn of the brandy made me gasp as it scorched down my gullet. Almost instantly it made my knees quiver and sent a tingle over my skin. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

  He tipped his head and studied me. “Go ahead. It’s the next door on the right.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I set the mug on the counter and went back into the hallway. The place lacked a woman’s touch and needed a good vacuum, not to mention some more modern wallpaper, the flowery stuff that was peeling around the skirting board was nasty.

  I found the bathroom. It was painted green and had a bath that needed a good clean and a large shower cubicle that seemed hygienic enough. I flicked on the water and tugged off my boots. I then removed my jacket, sweater and bra, and rolled my skirt down my legs. I needed to get hold of some more knickers soon. Perhaps there were some in the apartment I could have.

  The mirror had quickly steamed up, and the air had become damp.

  I stepped into the hot water, sighing as it rained down on my tense, aching shoulders. I breathed deep, hoping to cleanse my lungs of the awful smell of smoke and the breath of the man who’d wanted to rape me.

  Closing my eyes, I wondered how Father Duncan was getting on. Hopefully the police had found him, if not, he was probably still apologizing to God for his plan to steal all that church money and leave the country.

  But Steve had gotten to it first. What was his plan with it? I’d like to think he was going to donate it to good causes but somehow I didn’t think so. Shit. Why was the hottest bloke I’d met in a long time a thieving scoundrel? Life played weird games with me sometimes.

  “Want some company?”

  I spun and opened my eyes.

  Steve stood by the shower, gloriously naked and looking like every sin I’d ever wanted to commit wrapped up in one big, muscly package. He had a tattoo on his right pec—a devil’s face, complete with horns and manic eyes and holding a pitchfork.

  “I guess I could do with help scrubbing my back.”

  “Oh, baby I’ll sort out more than your back.”

  A shot of arousal went through me as he stepped in. His cock was thick and hard and standing proud. The water hit his body and ran over his flesh in rivers, dipping in and out of the contours of his torso.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I was going to answer that question tomorrow. Right now, this sexy man who certainly flirted with what was ethically acceptable, was all I wanted. Sure he was an East End thug, no doubt notorious and likely wanted by the police. But my body didn’t care about that. I wanted up close and personal with his big, unholy cock and how it could make me feel.

  He’d saved me after all, more than once tonight.

  I reached for his shoulders and pressed close, enjoying wet skin against wet skin. Instantly my nipples hardened and I pressed my legs together, need growing within me.

  He pushed my hair from my cheeks and tipped my head so I faced him.

  Water droplets clung to his stubble and his eyelashes were damp. His dark eyes flashed with desire.

  “I need to tell you stuff,” he said.

  “No. Don’t tell me anything.” I didn’t want the moment spoiled with facts. Facts that were likely laced with information that tugged at my moral compass, or possibly threw it completely out of whack and in the totally opposite direction.

  His mouth twitched, as though half smiling. “Okay, well, one thing.”

  “Only one.” I ran my palms from his collarbones and set one over his tattoo. “Don’t ruin this.”

  “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “I know that. And I don’t care. Not for tonight. Tonight I just want to feel alive. Celebrate feeling alive.”

  “There’s not much of the night left. It will be morning soon.”

  “So we should make the most of it.” I ground against his cock.

  He moaned and his eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck.”

  “Yes. Shall we?”

  He opened his eyes and swept his tongue over his bottom lip. “I’m not a hearts and flowers type of bloke. I don’t do romance.”

  “I’d already gathered that.”

  “But if you decide to stick around, in the morning, beyond…”

  I widened my eyes. “What?”

  “All I’m saying is I’ll show you a good time.”

  “What with all that cash you nicked?”

  “Maybe.” He grinned suddenly. “But mainly I’ll show you a good time with my dick.”

  “So start.”

  His face fell serious. “I’m a one woman man, I might have faults but I don’t dip it around. You want to be mine then…”

  “Then what?”

  “I’ll look after you in a way you’ve never been looked after before.”

  Jesus. Could I really have some kind of relationship with a tough-as-nails guy like this? A man who had to slip out of view when police cars went past?

  I don’t know the answer to that.

  Suddenly I was hoisted into the air.

  “Stop thinking,” he said. He twisted so my back was against the cool tiles and his chest pressed into mine.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist and clung to his arms.

  “Stop thinking and let’s start doing,” he murmured.

  “Okay,” I said, happy to let all thoughts of the future leave my mind. This is what I wanted. Now. Here. With Steve. “Condom,” I managed as he angled the tip of his erection at my spread pussy. Pregnancy wasn’t an issue, but still…

  “Why? We’ve already done it without, in for a penny in for a pound.” He tensed. “Are you ready for it?”

  “Yes.” Oh God, I wanted him. All of him. I wanted him to unleash his passion the way he had in the church. Just fuck. Become raw male need. It was so damn sexy and it turned me on so much.

  I could live with that every day.

  He pushed into my entrance. Not fast and urgent like before, but slow and deliberate as if feeling every sensation as he buried deep.

  “Ah, yeah,” he said, his lips moving against mine. “So good, Cheryl.”

  He kissed me, his tongue probing the way his cock was.

  I kissed him back, enjoying the stroke of his lips and him entering me so thoroughly.

  When he reached full depth his hard body pressed up against my clit, and he cupped one hand beneath my ass, tipping my pelvis so the connection was even harder.

  I trembled. “Yes. That’s it.”

  “You want more?”

  “Yes, all of it. All you can give me.”

  He gripped the back of my head, his fingers slotting into my hair. He held me tight and firm.

  I stared at his wet face, the water dripping from his nose and chin, and the way his hair had plastered to his forehead.

  “So what other fantasies have you got?” he asked, studying my eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well I’ve fulfilled your priest one?”

  I cupped his jawline. “I didn’t know I had that one.”

  “But you admit you did.” He pulled out then sank back in.

  “Seems that way,” I said breathlessly, tightening my internal muscles around him.

  He groaned. “Fuck that feels good. You feel good.”

  “Maybe I need to find out your fantasies,” I said, gripping his shoulders now. My nails sank into his flesh but he didn’t flinch.

  “Oh baby, you might find more than you can handle.”

  “Perhaps you’ll have to try me.”

  He touched the tip of his nose to mine. “Damn, I could get used to having you around. Ticking off all those wicked, filthy fantasies you have but don’t even know about.” He withdrew, then thrust deep again, faster this time and holding me tight as his balls butted up against my ass.

  I pulled him to me, kissed him, wildly, the water slicking between our mouths. Fantasies, yes. I had more. And right now he was the star of all of them.

  The tempo picked up. He was running the show, pounding into me, the water cooled but I didn’t care. My skin was hot and tingling. An orgasm growing and getting ready to erupt.

  “Fucking hell…” he muttered against my lips. “I’m coming.”

  “Me … too.” A climax ripped through me.

  Steve joined me, and my pussy hugged his cock over and over as he released.

  “Ahhh, yes. Oh, God,” I cried out, my voice swirling with the steam and echoing around the small cubicle.

  He grunted and buried his face against my neck.

  I felt so small in his embrace and completely possessed by him. This big man who’d tricked me, saved me, and fucked me all in one night had thrown everything I thought I knew about need and want on its head. His variety of sexy, of claiming me, was addictive, I knew that already.

  I groaned then sucked in a deep breath. Pleasure was tingling over my skin, my nipples, my toes, and my hairline all fizzing with pleasure.

  He nipped my earlobe between his teeth, his breath a storm in my ear. He was shaking, his muscles absorbing erotic bliss the way mine were.

  I shut my eyes and let my arms and legs relax.

  He held me tight, pressed against the wall, and stilled.

  The water rained down as I caught my breath, my chest bashing up against his.

  He’d told me one thing about himself, and if there was one thing I knew about myself now it was that I’d be sticking around. I was hooked. Steve, and his promises of fantasies fulfilled, his grotty apartment and his hot as hell body had me hooked. Sinful he might be, but it was the sweetest, sexiest brand of sin I could imagine.

  Lord help me.

  The End

  www.lilyharlem.com

  ONE LAST JOB

  Alexa Sinclaire

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  Ivy

  Sitting gagged on the floor of the van that Lawson and his men had thrown her into, Ivy had a lot of time to think. And she came to the conclusion that none of this would have happened it hadn’t been for her insatiable need to eat a cinnamon roll nearly every day for lunch. Because had she not had that cinnamon roll two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have gotten sticky sugar on her fingers and she wouldn’t have had to remove her ring in the staff room to wash her hands, and Lawson would have never seen her tattoo, and he never would have touched her hand and stared at her with those ridiculous deep brown eyes that were as enticing as the damn sugar on her cinnamon roll. And then he wouldn’t have asked her for dinner and they wouldn’t have had the most amazing sex she’d ever had, staring into those damn beautiful eyes again.