My Way to Hell (29 page)

Slipping his hands beneath her ass, he pulled her flush to his wet mouth, teasing the swollen bud until she thrashed under him. Electricity shot pinpoints of pleasure to her belly, fanning out, making her nipples harden. Marcella gripped his head, latching onto his hair and bucking against him until she could no longer fight the tidal wave of sticky hot orgasm.

Rising up on her elbows, her head fell back as she screamed her release, letting it take over, letting the pulsing ache build then ebb until she was nothing but boneless and limp. Each muscle in her body tensed tightly like a bow, then flexed as climax after climax ravaged her.

Kellen nipped at her skin, finding his way back up to her mouth where he consumed her lips. She tasted herself on his tongue, and it was heady, sinful. Marcella’s hands roamed the hard planes of his hips, the crisp hair on his thighs, the thick muscles of his back. When she’d gathered her breath, she slid beneath him, leaving him straddling her chest.

His thick cock, ramrod straight, hot and pulsing, brushed against her lips. He groaned, low, husky, the muscles of his thighs clenching when she braced her hands on them.

Inch by painstaking inch, Marcella enveloped his shaft between her lips, running her tongue along the heated skin. He bucked when she cupped his ass with her hands, drawing him fully into the hot cavern of her mouth.

She let him adjust before she moved, reveling in the jagged breaths he took that filled the air of the bedroom, rife with their lovemaking. Kellen’s hips began to move in circles, slow, measured, each movement making him hiss a moan.

Marcella dragged a hand up along his hip, down between his legs, and enveloped his testicles, massaging them with a gentle motion. Moving her other hand to his cock, she pumped him, laved until he was slick with her tongue’s moisture. Her passes grew heated, faster, as her mouth worked along his thickness.

Kellen’s hands dug into her hair, tangling in the curls as he pushed her mouth around his cock, driving in and out until he pulled back with a sharp tug. Leaning back on his haunches, he let his head hang low, fighting for air.

Then he lifted it, his eyes dark, molten hot with desire for her. So intense, Marcella caught her breath. There was no mistaking his need when he caught her up in his arms with such force it made her nipples pucker as they scraped against his chest.

The room shifted then righted itself when he rolled with her, placing her on top of him, settling the tip of his cock at her entrance.

Their eyes met—their hands entwined.

The world stopped for a mere moment.

And everything changed.

Love, tender, sweet, fast, furious, welled inside her.

The realization stole her breath to think that the night before had only been her falling. Now, she was in. All in.

In this very moment, Marcella knew no matter when she was taken from this plane, from him, she would know what it was to want to spend an eternity with Kellen. This wasn’t like the immature love she’d thought she’d felt for Armando. It was so deep, she felt it burrow into a space in her heart she’d thought was forever locked.

The place where David was.

Would always be.

The place that Kellen now would be, too. A place she hoped to visit when she was gone. A place that would bring her joy when time had healed the raw hurt of leaving him.

As he lay before her, the hard planes of his body highlighted in the moonlight, the slim taper of his waist with her hands upon it, she gulped with her revelation.

Lifting her hips, she decided all she wanted was to be filled by him, consumed by his hardness, taken so she could be only in this moment. Kellen didn’t question her aggressive move when she thrust herself down onto him. Instead, he encouraged her, lifting his hips to meet the crash of hers, moaning his pleasure at the slickness of her entry.

She braced herself, using her hands on his chest to rock against him with a fierce rhythm. Grinding into him, she felt his crisp pubic hair rub against the swollen bud of her clit. It sent wave after wave of rippling pleasure between her legs.

Kellen’s hands circled her waist, pressing her frenzied thrusts down onto his cock with force, stealing her breath. He drove upward, matching the frantic pulse of her desperate need to be one with him.

Her hands fell behind her to grip his thighs, lifting her breasts upward so that Kellen cupped them in his hands, thumbing the hard peaks of her nipples, then moved to her clit, massaging it until she thought she’d explode from the pleasure. An agonizing spiral of white-hot heat threaded along her veins, pushing, driving, until she bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying out. Tears stung her eyes when she thrust downward for the final time, clenching his thighs so hard her nails dug into his flesh.

Kellen’s final plunge upward made the cords in his neck stand out, his grip on her waist ironclad. He grunted his release long and low, his lips drawing back over his teeth when he hissed his orgasm.

Marcella fell to his wide chest, her cheek pressed to his damp skin, her limbs boneless from exertion.

Cupping the back of her head, Kellen stroked her hair, brushing it from her cheeks.

She couldn’t raise her head to look at him for fear he’d see what she’d discovered during their lovemaking. It would only make things harder if he knew she’d gone and done something so out of character.

It would only make leaving him more painful.

“So,” he mumbled, his voice a sexy rumble beneath her cheek, “I think we’re in love.”

Marcella almost giggled at how reasonable that sounded. Then she froze, lifting her eyes to meet his. Tugging her by her upper arms, he dragged her along his body until they were nose to nose.

“Go ahead. Freak out. I’ll hold you down.”

To say it out loud would only make it more real.

“You’re afraid if you say it out loud it’ll make it a reality.”

Thank you, Amazing Kreskin. Her tongue refused to work.

“It’s okay, honey,” he soothed. “There’s been a whole lotta nice with you lately and it’s foreign. I get it. You need time to adjust. I’ll wait.” He looked at the clock on the bedside table then back at her. “Was that enough time? Or do you need more?”

Before she had the chance to speak, before she could actually come up with an answer, she was sucked from his arms and he was gone.

Instead, she was back in the park.

And good Christ, she was wearing her torn dress.

Whoever’d dragged her here had better have a credit card.

With a really big limit.

Atonement and some new shoes were due.

“Marcella?”

She cocked her head, tilting it into the harsh winter wind as a tall figure came into view. Hackles rose on the back of her neck when the bulk of his form moved closer. A very round, wide man, in a dark suit and clunky shoes, tromped toward her. Hair as black as midnight with only a hint of gray at the temples shone under the heavy, buttery moon. He cracked his knuckles as he approached, making her jump.

“It’s me, Marcella. Little Ant’ony.” He paused, shaking his thick head of hair. “God damn it. I mean,
Darwin
.” His Bronx accent was thick. “Pardon my language.”

She looked around at the park, bewildered and irritated. “What the fuck am I doing here, Darwin?”

He smiled, though the face of the wise guy that did the smiling for him had a crafty hint to his grin. “I thought ya up. It was easier dan I tought—uh,
th
ought. Woulda friggin’ done it yesterday if I’da figgur’d it out sooner.”

Marcella flicked his pinstriped arm. “It’s a friggin’ good thing I don’t know too many people who think about me, then. I was in the middle of something.” Deep in the middle. Of revealing her raw, exposed heart.

“I apologize, but I had to talk wit ya.”

She hadn’t forgotten their last meeting, and though she knew her own doing had skewed his perception of her—it still hurt. “You mean me, the
bitch
? The dumb one?”

His pudgy face, or rather Little Anthony’s face, revealed such sadness at her sarcasm. He held up a hand with thick fingers attached to it. “Bear wit me fer a sec while I get Ant’ony to quiet down.” Turning from her, his body shuddered as though he were waging an internal battle. He muttered a string of threatening words like “local,” “precinct,” and “downtown,” and finally, “confessions that would make the feds’ eyelashes curl” if Anthony didn’t pipe down. When he faced her again, his eyes remained steeped in uncensored sorrow. Clearing his throat, he said, “I called you here first to apologize, Marcella, and second to tell you something you must know.”

Looking down at her dress, she nodded then glared at him. “You definitely should be apologizing. I had a brand-new dress I should be wearing—a perfectly gorgeous dress—but you had to go and think me up in this one, you buffoon.”

He bowed his greased-back head. “I’ve been many things, Marcella. Buffoon, ass, judgmental.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is the end of the world slated and you know the date?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because not only are you apologizing to
me
, but you’re agreeing with me. Should I take cover?”

Taking her hand in his thick one, he squeezed it, his diamond pinky ring casting a prism of light on the pavement. “Let’s not beat each other about the head and shoulders with our words, Marcella. Not tonight. Just listen and let me tell you how sorry I am for my ill-perceived, misinformed ideas about you. Truly, from the depths of my soul, I humble myself at your feet.”

This was a startling turn of events, and it left her uncomfortable. Every steadfast quality in the people who surrounded her was changing and it had begun to freak her out. She’d only just started to adjust to Kellen’s change of heart, her feelings for him, and now Darwin was asking her for something he shouldn’t have to ask for. He’d called her a bitch. Okay, so she’d taken it badly. She’d told him to leave her alone—she’d done that at least a million times before in their relationship as frenemies and they’d always found their way back to each other, like it or not. “Go humble somewhere else and knock it off, Darwin. You dragged me away from something very important. Besides, what do you have to apologize for?”

“Because
I know
,” he said, his tone low and hushed.

“Know?”

Darwin’s thick red lips expelled a sigh. “Stop, Marcella. Stop pretending you don’t know what I mean. I was so unfair to you, I don’t even know if I can stand to be in my own skin, er, even if it’s Little Anthony’s. I can only say, I didn’t know the details. I never would have guessed.”

Marcella sucked in a breath of cold air. Would this part of it never be over? Reliving losing David and everyone’s shock over what she’d done was wearing her down. “So you know about . . .” Though she’d been so cleansed at this point she should have nothing left to clean, the residual of her confessions still ached.

Darwin’s head bowed, his eyes grave. “Yes. I know everything. I know about David. It’s all over Plane Dismal. I can’t apologize enough.”

Marcella tried to dismiss it. “Yeah. I’ve heard that once or twice in the past couple of days. Look, Darwin. I didn’t do anything to give anyone the impression I was anything other than Party-All-the-Time Barbie
.
It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault but mine.”

Clinging to her hand, he shook his slick head. “But I didn’t look any deeper, either. Not even after you saved Delaney and Clyde. I judged you so heinously. I helped you get here and consoled myself with the justification that it was for Delaney, my once beloved mistress, never in a million years thinking you actually deserved help. I coaxed you back to this plane to ease Delaney’s fears for my own selfish purposes, and as a result, I doomed you. I’ve talked to everyone to try to help get you back, so at the very least you can find some modicum of peace, with no luck, and now you’re all wrapped up in this thing with Carlos and Armando.”

Wrapped up. Invested. Involved. All words she’d once banished from her vocabulary. Now it was all she thought about, and once more, the helplessness of her situation pierced her heart.

“That brings me to what I have to tell you. This Armando, he’s bad news, Marcella.”

Her head hung low to her chest as she stared at her floating feet. “I was married to the bad news, remember? I killed him so there’d be no more bad news. So believe me, bad news I know. We’re like this.” She crossed two fingers together.

“There’s more. He’s possessed that little boy’s mother. I have confirmation. And more importantly, I know
why
he’s possessed her.”

Fear sizzled in her gut. She’d been almost one hundred percent sure when she’d told Kellen her suspicions about Solana. To have confirmation set her into motion. “I knew it! Damn that piece of shit. Now I have proof. I have to go, Darwin. So apology accepted and all that good stuff. Go tie cement blocks to someone’s feet, and I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

But Darwin clung to her hand, holding her in place. “Wait! You have to listen very carefully to me, please. Not just for your safety, but for the boy’s.”

More anxiety, more panic. So much, she shook. “Tell me what you know.”

“Armando knows you’re here on this plane. The only time he can’t see you is when he’s in that child’s mother’s body because really all he’s doing is utilizing her limbs, but he has informants everywhere. He knows you gave him up to Satan.”

Marcella blanched, but recovered when she realized something very important. “So? He’d have been found out eventually, and there’s nothing he can do to me anyway.”

“Don’t underestimate the kind of anger a man locked up for seventy-six years is capable of. He wants revenge, and the kind of power he’s honing is toxic. If he gets his hands on you . . .” His shoulders shuddered.

Please. “There’s nothing he can do to me, Darwin. I’m a ghost. Like you said, he can’t even see me. I know that to be fact.”