Wild Card (Vegas Underground 8)

“I know you're not crazy.” He considers me. “What do I bring to the table besides some money and a mean streak?” He shrugs. “Maybe I need somebody to hurt. Someone to submit. You like pain. And yeah, you give great fucking head. It’s a match made in heaven.”

I laugh and hold his gaze as I lower to my knees. His nostrils flare when I unbuckle his belt. His cock grows as soon as I touch it, lengthening and bobbing when it springs free from his boxers. I take a slow, leisurely lick around the head.

“Caitlin, this isn’t a transaction for me.” His voice is strained—whether it’s from the blowjob or the difficulty in admitting anything to me, I can’t tell.

I take him deep into my mouth as an answer.

But he persists. “Is it for you?”

I grip the base of his cock and squeeze tight, coming off with my mouth. I shake my head. “I missed you after the kidnapping.”

His lips quirk and he grips the back of my head, feeding his length into my mouth again. “I missed you, too, bella.”

I struggle against his hold until he sets me free and I pop back off. “So am I your girlfriend? Are you going to see other women at the same time?”

He raises his brows, and the amusement on his face pisses me off. “Would that bother you?”

I stand up. Blow job is officially over. “I don’t play side chick,” I snap, turning away.

He catches my arm and yanks me into a brutal kiss. His tongue presses between my lips, teeth nip at me. When he releases me and comes up for air, he says, “No one else. Tacones don’t do side chicks. Once we make our minds up about a woman, we’re loyal as hell.”

I absorb that nugget, fascinated by everything it brings up. He comes from a family of violent but loyal men. That’s hot in a raw, primeval way.

To my utter shock, he drops to his knees and yanks down my yoga pants. His tongue delves between my legs and I cry out, grasping his hair. He rubs and flicks his tongue over all my sensitive bits until I’m trying to climb onto his face.

“Clothes off,” he orders when I start pulling his hair. “Go check out your new bed.”

I giggle and kick off my shoes and pants and run for the bedroom. It’s another lovely, large room with a huge four poster king bed in the middle. I grab one of the posts and swing around to face him where he’s stalking up behind me like the predator he is. “Are these for tying me up?”

“You know it.” He slaps my bare ass. “Why do you still have clothes on?”

I scramble out of my sweater, crop top and sports bra and climb up on the bed. “On your back. Spread your legs.” For a moment, he just takes his fill of looking, his dark eyes glittering with promise. Then he produces several lengths of soft rope from his pocket—he must have planned my bondage in advance—and ties me spread-eagle to the posts. Pleasure courses through my veins before he even touches me and when he returns to his exploration of my pussy with this tongue, I’m already half-lost.

Three orgasms later, I’m shaking and begging him to stop.

“No more. Please, Paolo. I can’t take any more. Let me suck your cock.”

He gives a cruel laugh. “Next time I’ll tie you with your head facing the foot of the bed and then fuck your mouth. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, little slave?”

“Mmm hmm.” I’m delirious at this point. But he’s right, I’d love that.

He unties me and climbs over me. I wrap my legs around his back when he enters me and use my heels to pull him in deeper.

He rocks into me, and even though I’m already wrung out with all the orgasms, my body shivers and celebrates the penetration.

“I like the apartment,” I confess. I attempt to focus on my surroundings. “I like the bed, too.” He rolls my knees back toward my shoulders and pumps into me rapid-fire. Then he switches to put my ankles over his shoulders. Finally, he turns me onto my belly and finishes fucking me from behind.

“I can’t move,” I groan after he comes, because my body is as limp as a rag doll.

Paolo sits down on the bed and pulls me face down over his lap. He spanks me hard and fast, which instantly wakes me up. “Ow!” I reach back with my hand to cover my butt.

He grabs my wrist and bends it behind my back, continuing to spank me. “I’ve seen you take way worse.”

“Not after so many orgasms!” I protest. “I’m way more sensitive now.”

“Is that right? Didn’t know that.”

“Yes! It’s a fact.” I try to cover with the other hand, squeezing my buttocks together and kicking my feet with straight legs like a swimmer. “What’d I do, anyway?”