Death Wish Read Free Page A

filmy eyes at Stilotti. He sniggled a spray of spit full into the round, kindly, stunned face and babbled, “Chump, you ain’t no cook. You got no whiskers and red vine, but I’d know your lard ass anywhere. Shiiiiiit! You Mr. Santa Claus. I got a last-minute list to lay on you. I wanta . . .”
    Bone’s head dropped back against the cushion in open-mouthed, growly sleep. Phil guffawed. Angelo grunted and gripped the steering wheel. “The Surgeon” giggled tears down his fat, pink cheeks.

2
    A ngelo sped the black sedan and its prisoner toward Collucci’s roadhouse in suburban Skokie.
    Nude Collucci thrust anxiously on silk sheets in his mansion in posh suburban River Forest. He felt himself go limp against the vulva’s pink lips pouting through the silky brambles. He had failed miserably once again between the alabaster thighs of Olivia Tonelli Collucci.
    He rolled away to his side and watched her violently undulate her round dimpled butt in the fading glow of a fat yellow moon. Then she impaled herself on his long index finger and hissed hotly as she rode and humped the wet stump. She jackknifed her thighs as he suckled at her breasts. Finally, she galloped madly for the finish line. He vised her nipples together under his big hand. He chewed, bit, sucked, gnawed, and stabbed her into orgasm.
    In a raging storm of guttural joy, she flip-flopped in great voluptuous spasms of starved release. Then immediately she was hurt, furious that again he could not stay hard for her. At thismoment she hated his mechanical finger-fucking that had, after all, done nothing for her that she couldn’t have done for herself. She scooted off the punching dildo and sank her nails into his crotch and drew herself into a fetal ball, panting and glaring blue fire at him.
    Collucci reached for her. “Angel, doll, I’m . . .”
    She uncoiled and knifed her teeth into the tender web between his thumb and index finger. He gasped in pain and sucked at the wound. She taunted him with a wicked grin.
    He said harshly, “You treacherous witch, I’ll beat the pee out of you.”
    She laughed mirthlessly and needled in her throaty voice, “You do, Rubber Dick, and I’ll scream the whole neighborhood and Papa into this house.”
    She moved away and turned her back as she barbed over her shoulder in Sicilian, “You horny Westside scum, why don’t you beat the pee out of your new black whore you must be screwing? They have been why you can’t get hard for a decent white woman anymore.”
    He was enraged to be reminded of his slum beginnings. And he was always infuriated when she mentioned his wild hang-up on coal-black sexpots.
    He choked back the angry words, the truth to shake her clean, serene little world of teas and kid-glove hustling for worthy causes, the truth that Joe Tonelli, her precious father, had swum a river of blood to his present wealth and image of the respectable retired businessman.
    After a long silence Olivia said softly in a breaking voice, “Please forgive me . . . You know I don’t really mean to say those awful things. I just feel sorry for you, I really do. You’re going to lose me, lose Petey . . . everything.”
    Collucci scooped his yellow silk pajamas off the Persian rug. Then he slipped into them with a wry smile. He pillow-propped himselfagainst the headboard and glanced at the Patek Philippe’s diamond face winking four A.M. on the nightstand.
    He lit a cigarette and sucked deeply, exhaled, and watched a poltergeist of smoke float across the bedroom and suicide against the frosted floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the frozen grotto-garden. The garden sparkled like a crystal Shangri-La in the blaze of security spotlights ringing the mansion.
    He glanced over at Olivia’s silky mane firing golden skyrockets on her pillow and idly thought that the Golden Fleece with the dragon