Ace of Hearts (Vegas Underground 3)

And then I nearly pass out.

When the room stops spinning, I find myself pinned against the tile by Tony’s large body. I cling to his shirt, panting.

“Fuck, Pepper. You have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

I scoff and shove him away enough to drop down to my knees. I definitely owe him one.

He unbuckles his belt and opens his pants. His cock springs out, already erect. I open my mouth and lick around the head, then take him deeper.

He grabs my hair. “Wait, wait, wait.” He pulls his cock out of my mouth. “I don’t want to fuck with your throat, songbird.”

I’m actually… shocked.

What man cares more about a girl’s throat than getting head? Even if that girl is supposed to make him nine hundred grand with her voice.

He grasps my upper arms and pulls me up to stand, then spins me around and bends me over the sink counter. Smack. His palm greets ass before he shoves my dress up to my waist. I turn around to make sure he has a condom, and he does; he’s ripping it open with his teeth.

For a moment, I have that queasy panic I get before sex, like I need to fight but can’t, and it scares me, but then he wraps his huge hand around my throat, caging it loosely and meets my gaze in the mirror. Instantly, I’m captivated by the moment, turned to putty in his hands.

“You like to pretend this is payment due, right, beautiful?” His lips are at my temple.

My brain stutters on his assertion, but my ass pushes back, heat pouring through my pelvis.

His grin is feral as he rubs the head of his cock against my entrance. “I’ll play that game.” He pushes into me and I gasp at the stretch. “But we both know you’re the beggar here.” He eases in. “Madonna, you’re tight.” He goes still, seeking my gaze in the mirror again. “Please tell me you’re not a virgin.”

I laugh and shake my head.

“Thank fuck.” He draws back and pushes in again, filling, filling, filling me. It’s delicious. There’s no ickiness, no fear. Only pleasure, and the desire for more.

And he gives me more.

Because Tony Brando doesn’t hold back. And he’s a dirty mofo, too. As soon as he’s plowed me open, he’s working his thumb into my ass, using saliva to screw it in.

The sensation shocks me. It’s naughty and wrong and feels so good. He holds me captive with the thumb in my ass—ensures I’ll brace myself against the counter and hold still as he delivers thrust after punishing thrust.

“Is this how you pictured it, baby? You wanted me to give it you in the ass?”

I shake my head, then nod, then whimper.

He reaches around and pinches my nipple, shoving his hand down the front of my dress and into my bra. “Let go, baby.”

I don’t know what he means, except to turn off my brain, to stop trying to figure out what all this means about me.

“Take it,” he growls. “Take it, little songbird.”

I moan, a real sound, and he fucks me harder, faster. My hips bump painfully against the counter, but he must notice, because he shifts to wrap his arm around my waist, protecting me.

“I’m coming,” he announces, and my body must take it as a cause for celebration, because I come, too. The moment he shoves in deep and stays, my muscles squeeze and milk his cock, ripples of release flowing down my inner thighs and the backs of my legs.

Tony curses softly in Italian and eases out, disposing of the condom and washing his hands. I don’t move—mostly because I don’t think my legs will hold me. Brando moistens a paper towel and cleans me, which is both embarrassing and sweet. He retrieves my soaked panties from the floor and helps me step into them, sliding them up and arriving with his hands on my ass.

He steals a kiss, like he’s sampling my taste, then rubs his lips together. “Mmm. You okay?”

I nod.

“Can you walk?”

I laugh and nod. Is it normal to not be able to walk after sex? Apparently with Tony Brando it is.

Chapter 5

Tony

My mom calls back as we pull into the doctor’s parking lot. I grin. She must’ve gotten Pepper’s text. “Hi, Ma. Tell me you’re coming.”

“Tony, is this really Pepper Heart with you?”

“Yep, it’s really her. I’m, ah, kinda managing her show at the Bellissimo.” I steal a glance at Pepper, who rolls her eyes.

“She looks very nice.” My mother lives in a very small world. It pretty much kills me. She lives in a small house in Oak Park with her lame-ass husband, Tad, a boring, close-minded engineer. She won’t let me buy her a nicer house. She doesn’t leave her place because she doesn’t work and doesn’t know how to drive.