Bad Guys by Anthony Bruno Page B

power.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t know that.” Tozzi stared at her as she stared at the ceiling and talked.
    â€œWhen the revolution came Richie’s family left Cuba and came to America. They were pretty desperate, apparently, when Manny—that’s Richie’s father—went to see my father. Manny had always been a good guy as far as my father was concerned, so he gave him a job running one of his bars in Camden. Nothing very glamorous, but my father-in-law was honored to work for Jules Collesano. You know, all that beholden Latino ‘I-am-forever-indebted-to-you’ crap. By theway, Richie changed his name, did you know that? It’s really Vargas. After his father died, he dropped the s so it would sound more Italian.”
    â€œNo shit.” Tozzi wished the fuck those violins on the radio would drop dead.
    â€œAnyway, Manny pushed Richie into the business, always making a big show out of his kid paying respect to my father and his mob buddies. My father ate it up with a spoon. After Manny died, my old man took Richie under his wing, the son he never had. After a while it was just sort of understood that we’d get married.”
    Just like Ricky and Lucy. “How long were you married?” Tozzi asked.
    â€œI told you, technically we’re still married. I suppose I could divorce him now, but with him in hiding it hardly seems worth the effort. And can you imagine what an incredible hassle it would be trying to take him to court, with him in the Witness Security Program?”
    â€œWhile you were married—together I mean—did you ever get an inkling that he wasn’t on the up-and-up, that he really wanted to fuck your father over?”
    She glared at Tozzi and squeezed his dick hard. “Why are we talking about him? I’m not about to take the morning off just to talk about that asshole.”
    Tozzi grinned and got up on one elbow. As he kissed her again, running his tongue over her teeth, he reached over and spun the dial on the radio. He found a stronger station and David Bowie blared across the room. Quickly Tozzi turned down the volume and started to mumble-sing along with the radio. “ Let’s dance, ba-da, ba-da, bum, bum, bum, ba-da-dum, dum, dum. Let’s dance . . .”
    He cupped her ass in his hands, buried his face in all that beautiful hair, and bit her earlobe. Bowie would do just fine.
    He felt her reach down and take his balls in both hands. She started to guide his rigid dick into her, arching her back to meet him. He was surprised to find that she was already wet and satiny. Suddenly he was in up to the hilt and she was pulling him closer, grinding into him, gyrating her hips around him.
    â€œGet up on your knees,” she whispered.
    When he did, she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled herself up into him, thrusting again and again with sweet, slow deliberation. She kept up the rhythm, twisting just a little with each thrust to change the angle of projection and drive him crazy.
    Then he felt it rising in him, and he tried to stop it, straining to keep from coming before she did.
    â€œDon’t hold back,” she said, licking his lips. “Let it go.”
    Her hips slammed against his and he couldn’t hold it any longer. It was like coming over the crest of the scariest part of a roller-coaster ride, a rush in the pit of your stomach as you go over the top, then falling fast out of control, rushing for the thrill. As it was happening, in the blur of ecstasy, he vaguely realized that he’d never experienced anything like this with a woman before. Not even remotely close.
    The phone rang while Tozzi was in the shower. Joanne answered it in the kitchen.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œWhat’s going on in there?”
    She paused and took a sip of coffee from a deep blue mug. “He’s in the shower now. I’ll get him out of here in a half hour.”
    She could hear his breathing on the other