Joker's Wild (Vegas Underground 5)

Now? I’m ready every time I hear Junior’s deep rumble. Or see the strong lines of his face.

I nod. “Sore in a good way,” I tell him. I’m tender between my legs and deep inside, because he’s so long he bumped my cervix.

He leans down and plants a kiss at the apex of my labia, over my clit. It’s chaste and sweet and not enough. But then he follows it up with a flick of his tongue. A suck. A nip. Then my lips are splayed open by his thumbs and he’s going to town on me.

I shriek and jerk, my pussy clenching and releasing, my thighs shivering.

“P-please, Junior.” I’m already begging.

“Oh you don’t have to beg, angel. I’m definitely going to give it to you.”

“N-now?” I moan. Yes. I’m that desperate for his cock. The need to be filled by him is ever-present. Cunnilingus is awesome but not enough.

He sucks hard on my clit, then raises his head, his lips glossy with my juices. “Patience isn’t my strong suit, either, doll.” He slaps my pussy lightly and climbs over me, his sheathed cock bumping my entrance, homing in on where it belongs.

“F-fuck me.” I sound so wanton.

Junior’s grin is smug. He eases in gently, which I’m grateful for. I guess I am still pretty sore even though it also feels amazing. He’s watching my face closely, like he’s looking for signs of distress. “You okay?”

I nod, unable to look away from his warm gaze. I’m basking in it. Drowning in it. The connection between us is unbelievable. I’ve definitely never had this with anyone before.

He rocks into me, filling me, stroking my insides, satisfying my need to be possessed by him. We never break eye contact. I rock my hips up to meet his in a dance we both know. A rhythm we share. It’s more sensual than sexual. It’s not the hot, frenzied need of yesterday. But something deeper. Sweeter. More significant.

“Desiree, I’d do anything for you, baby.”

I reach for him, stroke the bulging muscles of his arms, his shoulders, his chest. I flick my fingernails over his taut nipples. “I know,” I whisper.

Because I do. I’m sure this man would kill for me. Break the law for me. Protect me with his life. I try not to listen to the voice in my head that tells me a man like him is far too dangerous to love.

“I’m sorry I pulled you into all this.”

My chest expands and twists. The apology he owes me. At last. Of course it comes when I no longer need it. Have already forgiven him. Hell, I forgave him that first night when he watched me eat ice cream like I was the most beautiful thing on Earth. But I have a feeling apologizing is an unusual occurrence for him. Same as using please and thank you. So I receive the moment, treasure it as another gift he’s given me.

“Apology accepted,” I murmur, reaching for his face, wanting to pull him down for a kiss.

He shifts to rest his weight on his hand beyond my shoulder, but doesn’t give me the kiss. Instead, he cradles my face, his touch infinitely gentle, even as his thrusts grow harder. “Except if I had to do it again, I’d do the same thing. I wouldn’t want to miss this.”

My chest splits open—bursts because my heart swelled too big for it. I blink back tears. “Me neither,” I admit.

It’s the truth. I may not like that I’ve fallen in love with a mobster, but I have. And I’d do it again.

Junior closes his eyes, like what’s between us is too much for him, too. When his eyes open, he picks up speed with his thrusts, all the while keeping his fingers on my face, in a gentle exploration of my cheek, my lips, the side of my neck.

“I don’t want it to end,” he rasps.

I can’t tell if he means the sex or us.

I don’t want them to end, either.

But of course, everything must end. It’s one of those truths of living you can’t fight. Can’t ever defeat.

He comes.

I come.

It ends.

And we’ll probably end, too.

We need to end, too.

But for now, we can just pretend that ending isn’t coming.

* * *

“Cazzo.” Junior pulls out.

“What?” I lean up on my elbows to see what he’s cursing about.

“The condom came off. Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Jesus, what are the chances? That was the calmest sex we’ve had.”

He screws up his face in a wry grin—it’s sweet and innocent and for a second I think I have a flash of what he must’ve looked like as a youth. “Let me fish it out. Maybe it still caught most of my cum?”

In the least sexy moment of our relationship, Junior slides his fingers in me to locate the missing condom.

He curses again in Italian as he pulls it out.