Dead Man's Hand (Vegas Underground 7)

She whimpers and shifts her hips back to take me deeper.

I brace her shoulder with one hand and hold her hips with the other and drill into her. “You made a role for me. Why not just fucking play it?” It feels so good to be inside her. Her tight wet heat squeezes my cock like a glove, and every time my balls hit her clit, the residual ache from her assault makes me want to fuck her even harder.

“I have a role you can play, too, angel. It’s real easy.”

Marissa

Oh God. I fucked things up again. Badly.

Maybe even worse than when I tried to blackmail him, because back then he was still trying to show me he wasn’t what I thought.

But he’s right.

I didn’t believe he could be anything but what his father was.

And now he’s out of patience with me.

I have a pissed off, aggressive mobster, or maybe ex-mobster, fucking my brains out.

I’m not scared, though. He hasn’t hurt me. Even after I hurt him.

It’s funny how my body instinctively goes into submission under his command. I surrender and open to him. Receive his anger with each violent thrust.

“Gio.” I don’t know what to say to fix this. Whether it’s even fixable, or if he really has gone to the dark side now.

“Keep quiet or I’ll stuff my cock in your mouth instead,” Gio growls.

He doesn’t want my apology. He knows that’s what I was about to offer.

Fine. He wants to be pissed off and take it out through rough sex, I’m down.

Honestly, I was down from the beginning, and he knew it. I was just fooling myself when I told him I wasn’t having sex with him.

Maybe it was inevitable. From the moment I showed up in his office with my high heels and low-cut blouse, the die was cast. I was offering myself up to the devil. Take me to hell with you. Make me your queen.

Gio slides one hand around my throat and uses it to lift me up, bow my back like an exotic musical instrument, while he continues to fuck me hard.

He doesn’t want an apology. What does he want?

What would make this better?

I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Own me.” My voice sounds teary. Am I crying? “Own me, then, Gio.”

I don’t even know what I mean by it—am I really consenting to his use of my body? Whatever it means, it was the right thing to say.

Gio bucks harder. His breathing becomes rough and then he comes with a roar that echoes off the restaurant walls.

To my surprise, I come, too. Quick squeezes of my pussy around his cock relieve the need that was burning me up. I’m not an expert when it comes to sex. I had one long-term partner—a boyfriend I lived with for ten months when I was in culinary school. We had sex and I thought it was good, but nothing is like this orgasm.

The squeezing keeps going, pulsing. Every time he eases back and pushes in again, aftershocks bring on another spasm.

I get lost in the sensation of being filled by him.

Satisfied by him.

Used by him.

He pulls out. “Don’t fucking move, little girl,” he growls.

I don’t. I guess I’m eager to please now. Now that I found out this man bought Michelangelo's just to fire Arnie. And to make me happy.

If I can believe him.

Which I think I can.

There’s no denying how offended he is right now.

Of course, that could be from the knee to the balls.

I can’t believe I did that.

The fact that I did tells me I actually know he’s not what I’ve painted him to be.

Would I have kneed Don Tacone in the balls?

Not ever. Not in a million years. The man is murder and danger and power wrapped up into one. Was. He’s in jail now.

I wouldn’t even dare such a thing with Junior Tacone. Or any of the other brothers. No. I did it because I actually know Gio’s safe.

He returns and unwinds the belt from my wrists and tosses my purse beside my head. “If you need to let someone know you won’t be home, do it now.”

My breath leaves my chest with a whoosh. He really is making a claim on me.

The result is more excitement than anything. This tough, angry side of Gio curls my toes. Melts my panties.

There’s something about a take-charge guy, especially when it comes to sex, that turns me to mush. And having it in Gio’s handsome, normally charming package makes it all the more enticing.

My fingers shake as I pull my phone out and text Aunt Lori that I’m going home with a co-worker.

“Done.” I say, daring to meet his eye for the first time since he had me pinned against the wall. I’m still naked from the waist down, but that’s nothing compared to how vulnerable it feels just to look at him.