Joker's Wild (Vegas Underground 5)

“Did you get the antibiotic?” she asks after a moment and I curse and pull out. “Yes. Yeah, I got it.” I dispose of the condom and fish the antibiotic out of my coat pocket.

Desiree pulls on her scrub bottoms without panties and my undershirt.

I smile, satisfaction at seeing her in my clothes surging. I hand her the antibiotic and yank on my own clothes, then follow her into Gio’s room.

She’s already injected it into the IV. “Look,” she says softly, lifting her chin toward Gio. “He already looks better. I’m not that religious, but I swear my mom has a direct line to God. Or source energy—whatever you want to call it.”

I go still. I hadn’t even understood what she’d told me before. About why she called her mom here. But she’s right. There’s none of the usual pained restlessness around Gio. The lines of his face have softened, and he looks peaceful. His breath is steady. I touch his head. Still warm, but not burning as hot as this morning.

I pull Desiree into me and kiss the top of her head. And then, because she’s braless and her nipples are popping through my thin shirt, I have to palm her breast. Have to rub my thumb over the pebbled tip.

And then I’m squeezing her ass.

“Is my punishment over?” she asks, her lips curving into that taunting smile I love so much.

I work my finger between her ass cheeks, which is easy since she’s only wearing scrubs— no panties. “Baby, that wasn’t punishment,” I murmur. “That was your reward. Punishment comes later.” I curl my finger to touch her anus, showing her exactly how I’ll be taking her to task.

She moves restlessly, and I cup my other hand around her mons to stimulate her both places. Her breath comes in short pants. I release her, it was just a tease to keep her on edge. I’m still soaring from her revelation. Still soaked in gratitude, wanting to reward her in every way possible.

* * *

Desiree

Um, wow.

I seriously don’t even know what just happened.

One minute I’m freaking out, trying to make Junior understand my mom’s not a threat, the next minute he’s pounding into me like the world’s going to end, and it’s our last chance at having sex. Ever.

The whole time I couldn’t figure out if it was punishment or reward.

No, I guess I knew it wasn’t punishment. It may have been the roughest sex I’ve ever had, but what came out of him was pure passion. I just have no idea what triggered it.

I go back to his bedroom and get myself properly dressed. He’s in the walk-in closet, standing in front of what must be an open safe.

When he comes out, he tosses three big stacks of cash on the bed. “That’s for you.”

“Wait...what is this?” I don’t know why, but the money comes as a shock—and not a pleasant one. “Are you getting rid of me?” What the hell is going on? Was that goodbye sex?

“No, no, no.” He steps over to me and touches my shoulder to pivot me toward him. “I just wanted to give you something. It’s just… a show of good faith. Your payment in advance. You swore your allegiance to me. I wanted to reciprocate.”

What the F? I’m still hella confused. I know I usually love money and I always thought having a guy shower me with it would be the ultimate turn-on, but in this instance, I’m totally offended.

My allegiance? I wasn’t being loyal for the money. I’m loyal because I care about this family. These two men. And the money was supposed to mine for doing the job, regardless of my loyalties.

But I do understand that my declaration of loyalty means something to him. Something big. And he’s feeling grateful. Which explains the awesome sex.

“Fine, money was the wrong thing.” He literally sweeps his hand over the bed and knocks the stacks of cash to the floor like they’re nothing. “How about this?” He wraps his arms around me from behind, pulling my back against his front. “I’ve got every P.I. in the state looking for your little boy. I put them on it as soon as I found out. I promise I’ll get him back to you safe and sound.”

My knees buckle, the room swoops. “Wh-what?” my voice wobbles. I turn in his arms to see his face. He nods, solemnly.

All I can do is throw my arms around his neck, strangle him with the intensity of my gratitude. And then I’m crying—my tears wetting his neck, my mascara smudging all over his white collar.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He runs his hands up and down my back and I feel so safe. So cared for. Cherished, even. It’s an amazing feeling—one I haven’t had with a man before.

He cradles one side of my face and thumbs away my tears.