Dead Man's Hand (Vegas Underground 7) - Page 40

I play for an hour and the people stay at their tables, buying more wine or coffee, ordering dessert. Even though Michael’s frowning his ass off in the corner, I know it was a success. I feel the vibe, and the vibe is good. People are happy. They’re spending more money. They’re staying to hear me play.

And for a guy who’s never performed publicly but always longed for the give-and-take that comes from a live audience, I’m floating.

And I have Marissa Milano to thank for it.

When I start to catch dirty looks from the servers, I stop playing. They want to go home. I get it. We’ll have to figure out a better routine. Maybe a change or reduction of staff after the music starts.

I order a scotch and settle back in my corner, watching the servers clean up. Waiting for Marissa.

I didn’t contact her today. We don’t have an arrangement to meet up after her shift. I don’t know, maybe this is a test. I’m trying to figure out if she’s accepted she’s mine or if I have to keep pursuing. And is it time to go in hard?

This holding back and letting things roll on her time is about to kill me.

Marissa

“You let him have it, didn’t you?” Lilah asks when I dawdle at closing time.

Henry was an even bigger asshole tonight, I guess because we don’t have a replacement for Arnie yet. He stormed out without a goodbye ten minutes ago. The dishwasher just left and all the servers are gone.

Out in the restaurant, the sounds of the piano start up again.

Whatever Lilah sees in my face confirms it. “I knew it!” She thrusts her fist in the air like it’s a victory. She’s been pressing me ever since Arnie disappeared for the scoop, and I’ve been trying to play it off like I don’t know anything. “Was he good? Is he good?”

I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. “So good. Older man with a shit-ton of experience and five times as much testosterone good.”

She grabs my hands and squeezes them. “Ooh! I’m so excited for you. Come a little extra hard for me.”

“Shut up.” I slap her hands away lightly. I know I’m blushing. And excited. Just knowing Gio was on the other side of the kitchen door all night had me all aflutter. Hearing him play piano thrilled me.

Now I just can’t wait to see him.

“See if you can get us a raise,” she teases as she heads to the door.

“Already did,” I say. I was going to let it be a surprise, but since she mentioned it…

Lilah stops. “What? Are you kidding me?”

I grin. “Nope. Three bucks an hour.”

Lilah jumps up and down, running back to grab my hands again. “Are you serious? That’s like”—she lifts her eyes while calculating in her head—“almost an extra five hundred a month.”

I bob my head. I’d already done the math myself. “I know.”

She turns me and gives me a shove. “Well go and thank him for me.” She waggles her brows.

I laugh. “I will.” Stomach in flutters, I push the door to the restaurant open and head out. Most of the lights are off. No one’s left but Gio, sitting at the piano.

I go to his side, intending to sit beside him on the bench, but he stops playing and pulls me onto his lap instead.

The sense of rightness is undeniable. Now that I’ve mostly let go or ignored my qualms about getting in a relationship with Gio, everything feels right. The pleasure at the way he manhandles me—like a possession, like an object. With total confidence. Not asking. Just taking.

I thought I would hate to be treated this way.

But I freaking love it. To be this wanted.

Especially because I do believe that Gio respects me. Respects my agency.

“Come home with me,” he murmurs against my neck.

I groan. “I can’t.” I have to work tomorrow morning at Milano’s because Mia starts physical therapy and my grandparents are in Boston for a cousin’s wedding.

“You gonna let me fuck you here, then?” he rasps. His words are crass, but his hands rove over my body, making it sing.

“Yes,” I answer immediately.

I can’t wait to have sex with him again. Every single time has rocked my world. I meant it when I said he ruined other men for me. Like, I seriously don’t see how any other man on the planet could compare.

He cups my pussy now, rubbing through my pants. I shift and grind my ass over his hardened cock. “Don’t fucking tease, baby. I’ve been hard for you all night, just knowing you were back there in the kitchen with that banging body.” He bites my neck. “This body that belongs to me.”

“Yes,” I agree, squirming against his touch.

“Suck my cock, angel. Show me you’re a good girl.”

Tags: Renee Rose Vegas Underground Erotic
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