Jack of Spades (Vegas Underground 2)

He slams in harder and my hip bones grind against the hard wood of the desk. I brace my hands on the edge of the desk, try to hold my hips away. Stefano must see my dilemma because he slides his arm around the front of my hips and uses it to cushion my pelvis.

The position puts him closer, makes this thing less demeaning. More intimate.

I can’t decide if I like the change, but then he’s pushing up into me with short, hard thrusts. My breasts bounce with each tormenting stroke, breath strangles.

“Ask me for permission to come.”

“You ask me,” I counter, just to be contrary. Just because I’ve already given way too much of myself up in this exchange.

He pinches one of my nipples and twists, making me gasp. One finger of his other hand settles over my clit and he rubs roughly. “If you come without asking, you’re going to be dealing tonight with a hot, throbbing ass.”

And that almost makes me come. “May I?” I blurt out because I seriously don’t think I can hold it back.

“Come, bella. Come all over the cock that owns you.”

And that was why I didn’t want to beg. I really shouldn’t let this man talk to me this way. But I’m already coming, my pussy squeezing and releasing his cock, milking it.

“You’re an asshole, Stefano Tacone. How do you say asshole in Italian?”

“Still your boss, bella.” He grips my hips and slams into me, slapping my ass with his loins, making his belt rattle in his dropped pants. He fucks me like a champion until he, too, finds his peak and crests it. Then he slams deep and stays there.

“Stronzo.”

“What?”

“Stronzo is asshole in Italian. But I’m not giving you permission to call me that.” He pulls out and tosses his condom into the wastepaper basket. I shudder, thinking every employee who comes in here tonight is going to see it.

He tucks his dick away and buckles his pants, then replaces my panties and skirt. I turn around and he picks me up by the waist and sits me on the desk. “You got a problem we need to talk about?”

I flush. No, other than that I’m shaky and vulnerable from the demeaning sex and I want to be held. But that’s not going to happen because Stefano isn’t my boyfriend, he’s my boss. And we weren’t making love, we were fucking. Over his desk. Right before my shift. So I need to pull my shit together and waltz out there in my stilettos to deal some cards.

He brushes my hair back from my face and cups one cheek, studying me.

My face heats some more.

“I am an asshole. For sure. But I mean no disrespect. I really don’t.”

I believe him. Maybe I was feeling disrespected for a minute there, but it was my own shit. My own fantasy of being used by him became a fear as well.

Still, I need to get the hell out of this office.

“I missed you today, that’s all.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb.

Goosebumps raise on my skin. He had to go and say that?

Someone knocks at the door and I try to hop off the desk, but Stefano won’t let me. “Not now,” he calls out sharply.

He pulls a keycard out of his pants pocket and tucks it in the inner pocket of my cropped dealer’s jacket. “I would love to find you in my bed when I go to my suite tonight.” He catches my surprised glance and holds it. His dark brown eyes are warm pools I want to dip into.

“You’re giving me the key to your suite?” It strikes me as pretty trusting, although there’s probably nothing to steal except for his thousand dollar suits.

“I promise handsome rewards.”

“Handsome, huh? Does that mean you?” He flashes his movie-star worthy grin. “Only if you want it to.”

So I do have a choice this time. No coercion, just an offer.

And it’s one I just might have to accept.

* * *

Stefano

It might be time to admit I’m obsessed.

Corey Simonson got under my skin in a big, bad way. I watch her all night—the deft movements of her hands with the cards and chips, her confident handling of the bettors. She charms them all: men, women, old, young. They pick her table because she’s beautiful and they stay because she’s magnetic.

And I want that magnet turned my way.

Forever.

I gave it about a forty percent chance Corey would be in my suite when I went to bed at 3:00 a.m. Usually when I want something I go after it, all guns blazing. But now is not the time to pressure Corey Simonson. Now is the time to give her some space, let her choose on her own. I know she’s attracted to me. I know she likes the sex. But she doesn’t like being pushed around. And I’ve already treated her to plenty of that.