End Game (A Dark Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “Yeah.” He cups my cheek and gives my head a kiss. “See you around.”

  I cover his hand with mine, and sit up. He’s already pulling away to leave, but I grab his lapels and kiss him. His lips are soft, but mine want to devour him. His musky smell clouds around me, mixed with the faint smell of sex clinging to his skin.

  He pulls back and I feel the smile on my face. “You’re going to get me hard, and I need to leave.”

  “I want you again.”

  “Of course you do.”

  The smugness in his voice ought to be fined.

  I’m not the only girl on his list. He probably has dozens of women lining up to fuck him. With how handsome he is and how great he is in bed, who can blame them? But it still makes me burn with jealousy.

  His mouth hovers near my ear. “I need to get going, but you’ll be in my thoughts.”

  Sure, whatever. You don’t need to sugarcoat it. “Bye.”

  He did say no strings. I don’t really have a right to be upset.

  The bed lifts as Joe stands up and gives me a final pat on the head. It feels conciliatory, and at once I have a bizarre urge to stand up and shove his chest.

  I turn around in bed, not even watching when he leaves my bedroom. My eyes shut when the front door opens and shuts.

  And then I feel cold.

  * * *

  My head buzzes with this man the whole ride to the casino. I can’t get rid of him. His smell, his taste, his touch—I’m addicted. He’s like an infection. Joe makes me feverish.

  What is it about him? I keep asking myself.

  I don’t know. I really don’t. Maybe the way he coldly brushes me aside makes me want him even more. Isn’t that sick?

  Yeah, pretty sick.

  He didn’t so much as text me the next day…or the day after. Yeah, I was used, and it makes me feel like crap. I’m just going to go to work, check the fucking financial statements that come in every week and supervise the construction, make sure everything’s on track to be finished by June, and then I’ll go back home and gorge on Spaghetti-o’s. I loved the crocodile shaped ones as a kid, but they don’t make them anymore. Maybe I’ll watch Lion King—No, it’s too sad.

  I can’t think about family right now. My dad’s dead and the brother I looked up to hates every fiber of my being. He wants to see me buried. Jessica? Who the hell knows where she is? She doesn’t return my phone calls.

  Alone.

  I’m utterly alone.

  I’m so goddamn sick of it. I wish I could talk to someone about my fucked up feelings for Joe. Who would understand? I don’t even understand it. I stomp up the steps as I exit the subway, determined not to get down. Dad wouldn’t have wanted it this way.

  The Worlds Casino sign hangs in the sky, the black letters against a white background. Simple. Clean. I admire the new sign as I walk around, heading for the executive entrance on the side of the building. There’s a busted floodlight on the side and I stop, looking at the shattered glass below my feet. Goddamn it. They’re not cheap, and money’s tight.

  I enter the building and climb up to my office. A flash of golden hair in the hallway makes my heart pound. Nathan pauses for a moment. I tense and give him a nod, which he ignores. Sighing, I enter my office. Are we going to be like this forever? I just want to make up for Dad’s sake.

  The day at work passes by slowly. I’m drowned in emails, and the weekly financial report makes me want to cry.

  “Hey, there.”

  The low, lilting voice, suddenly at my ear, makes me jump horribly. Joe closes the door behind him and locks it, a devilish grin on his face. He’s dressed in a slim-fitted suit as black as sin and he looks at me as if he has seen me naked, which, he has.

  He crosses the room without presumption, aware of the way he makes me feel. Even now, the sight of him makes me feel horribly exposed, as if my secrets are on display. But more than that—he makes me so incredibly hot.

  “H—hi,” I say finally.

  Joe stands over me, cocking his head to look down my blouse. He takes my neck in his hand, and his thumb rubs the faint bruise I covered with makeup. He touches it for a moment, admiring his handiwork. I take his hand away, heart pounding. “Joe, you can’t do this here.”

  He grabs the arms of my chair. “Why not?”

  “Because,” I sputter. “I don’t want my coworkers knowing about us.”

  “Us?”

  “This arrangement we have.”

  Joe’s rough palms slide over my bare arms, and then he pulls me up so that he can take my seat. He hooks an arm around my waist and I slide onto his lap.

  “You’re mine and I’ll have you when I want.”

  I melt into his arms, loving his strength around me, his possessive hands grabbing my waist, his hot mouth, giving me affectionate kisses on my neck. I want more of this. I want him all the time.

  “I like this skirt.”

  His hands are not on my skirt. They squeeze my legs, plucking my pantyhose.

  “Easy access.”

  His hand creeps up my thigh and his low laugh makes a shiver run up my spine. “So I guess this means you’re still interested in me.”

  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have my hand up your skirt.” He gives me another peck on my cheek.

  “You didn’t call or anything, I just assumed—”

  “I told you I would play with you in return for your protection. I never said I’d be a gentleman.”

  What if I don’t want to be played with?

  But I do. I do. The air feels thin and my mouth opens. His mouth and tongue play with my neck as his hands slowly unbutton my dress shirt. The cool air stings my skin, but his hand warms me. Before I know it, my blouse is yanked down my shoulders. Joe’s expert hands undo my bra. My legs part as he pulls it down my shoulders and tosses it aside. Then he reaches around my skin and grabs my tits.

  Holy shit.

  Moisture gathers in my panties, making me uncomfortable.

  “Joe, this is—this is crazy.”

  “What’s crazy is that you’re hiding this body of yours.”

  He squeezes my breasts and I shudder, leaning back against his chest as an ache pounds between my legs like a second heartbeat.

  Christ, be sensible. You can’t have sex in an office. You’re the President of the company? What would Dad say?

  “Joe, we can’t do this here.”

  “Says who?” He runs a light finger around my nipple and I bite my lip hard, uttering a small moan. He laughs in response. “You agreed to be at my beck and call. I’ll fuck you whenever I want.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Let’s face it, you want this as much as I do.”

  His finger grazes against the fabric of my panties, right along the line of where my clit throbs. It’s very sensitive, and the moment he touches it, I arch my back and heave a big sigh.

  “Maybe you want this more than I do,” he observes with a grin. “That’s okay, though. I like it when my woman needs me.”

  I do need him. At least, I need passion. That’s what was missing in my life, and he makes me feel alive. He makes me forget about all the shit in my life.

  My nipples graze over the coarse fabric of his suit as I turn around in his arms, yanking his head into mine as we kiss with a crazed energy. He massages the smear of purple on my shoulder that I spent all morning trying to hide. There are more bruises on my abdomen, and Joe looks at them with a glint of pride in his eyes.

  “You look so sexy with all of my marks over your body.”

  I run my hands over his broad chest, loving how hard his body is. I undo the first few buttons as he looks at me with a slightly drunk expression.

  “You didn’t let me return the favor.”

  His face breaks into a wide smile, as if I’ve just said a hilarious joke. “Right.”

  A sprinkling of dark hair peeks through his shirt. I unbutton the whole thing and warm my hands over his body. He closes his eyes in cont
entment as I lean forward, kissing his Adam’s apple, feeling it bob against my lips. Then I aim my head lower, kissing the collarbone that juts out of his olive skin. I bite the delicate skin and suck hard, until a bright red mark glows against it. I feel his chuckle through my mouth.

  “That’s all I allow you to give me.”

  “You’ll allow?”

  Amusement shines from his eyes. “Who do you think is in charge here?”

  I smile against his chest, feeling suddenly rebellious.

  “Don’t do it, Marisa.”

  I do it.

  I bite him on a second spot, hard. He reacts faster than I can process. Suddenly, his hand is around my throat, squeezing, and I’m splayed on my desk.

  “I told you not to do it. Do you have a hard time hearing, or are you just stupid?”

  My teeth clench together. “None of the above.”

  His legs flatten against mine. I feel his cock digging into my flesh like a steel bar. “Or maybe you wanted to provoke me because you like having my hands on your ass. You like being punished.”

  Before that night, I would have never even fathomed that kind of sex. The way he talked to me, the things he did—all of it was degrading. Disgusting. Except it wasn’t disgusting. It was incredible. So maybe I do want him like that.

  He turns me around so that I’m flattened against my desk, and then he lifts my skirt up over my back. His fingernails scrape my skin as he pulls down my pantyhose and underwear. I sigh when I feel the warmth of his hands on my ass, but that sigh rises into a yelp almost immediately.

  SMACK!

  The sound carries through the office, probably even through the door. My cheeks flame when I think about what my coworkers would think if they tried to investigate and found a locked door, and heard the voice of two people. Jesus, this is crazy.

  The fear and embarrassment makes me want him to hurry up. His palm rubs the spot where he spanked me, and I bite down hard as he slaps the left side.

  “Joe, not too loud. They’ll hear—”

  “What’s that? Are you trying to give me orders?” His voice trembles with laughter.

  I sigh loudly. “I’m serious.”

  “I’m serious, too.”

  His hand rips across my skin, inflaming the already raw flesh. My voice cries out and I immediately cover my mouth in horror. Joe’s hand smoothes over the burn spreading over my skin, and then finally I hear his belt looping out of his pants, which drop to the floor. I look over my shoulder, and he coils the belt in his hands. There’s nothing funny about the look on his face. It’s intense. It makes the breath hitch in my throat.

  “Joe, please.”

  The belt cracks through the air, landing on my burning skin. I cover my mouth just in time to scream into my hand. Tears of pain swim in my eyes, but Joe immediately drops the belt and soothes my body.

  “That’s going to leave a nice mark.”

  His fingers grab my hips and suddenly a different sensation runs all of the pain out of my mind. His hardness slides up and down my clit, igniting a firestorm of desire inside my walls. I hate how reedy my voice is.

  “Please.”

  For once, he obliges me without drawing anything else from me. I stretch my hands and grab the edge of my desk as his hips push forward. He sinks into me, the thickness spreading me open. I move my legs apart without realizing, waiting for that perfect moment when he buries himself as deep as he can go. Then it happens. He grinds against me and the very head of his cock strikes my core. I clench around it, gasping into my desk as he keeps himself buried inside me. He pumps into me, yanking my hips back to hit inside me so deeply that pain mingles with the pleasure. It’s a sweet pain that only feels better and better the more he fucks me.

  There’s a roar in my ears that pounds in tune with his thrusts. He fucks me like he needs it, like every cell of his cries out for me. He fucks me so hard that it knocks the air out of my chest. I’m almost afraid of the sounds he’s making, until he pulls out and turns me around.

  Pure, shaking desire shines from his face.

  I’m amazed by the strength in his arms. He lifts me up onto my desk with scarcely a sigh, and then my legs wrap around him. His hands grab my hips and he groans, face lifted to the ceiling as he enters me again. Holy shit, he feels even better the second time.

  It’s like a mad race. He pounds the desk—my files spill all over the floor, the pencil holder rolls off, all of it feels like a metaphor for the most explosive sex I’ve ever had. He grapples my neck and holds me down, his expression contorted. I’m lifting up and up. Closer and closer. Then he grabs my tits and squeezes as one last thrust jars my body. He pounds again with a huge sigh, his cock still rock-hard as my own orgasm twitches in my core and explodes like a bomb.

  Joe gives me a sleepy grin and pulls out of me, tossing aside the condom wrapped around his dick. I’m still too shattered to move a muscle.

  “Oh my God.”

  There are really no other words.

  He leans down, smiling, and grabs my shoulders to help me up. “I didn’t plan on fucking you on your desk, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity.”

  His voice sounds strained, as if he just finished running a marathon.

  “Why?”

  “Cause you’re so goddamn gorgeous.”

  That’s a sweet thing to say. From the way he looks at me, I can tell that he means it. His eyes are heavily lidded and his lips are set in a neutral line, almost as if he can’t believe a girl like me would be with him. It’s strange, because it’s what I think of him. He’s too beautiful, too dark, too experienced to want me.

  But he doesn’t really want you. He just wants your body.

  It’s like a blow to my chest. I step back from him and grab my pantyhose and underwear, shoving them back on. Sensing my mood, he gives me a puzzled look.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t think I can do this.”

  His face darkens and I feel a small bump of fear. Joe’s not used to being told “no.” Even though my mind is determined, my body wants him. I touch his waist as he exhales through his nose.

  “I don’t understand why girls always have to complicate things.”

  “I want more than just—”

  “—than just me giving you the best sex of your life?” He doesn’t look angry. He looks amused.

  I turn away from him and I grab my bra off the floor, feeling like an idiot. “Just forget it.”

  His soft fingers at my jaw turn my head back towards him. His mouth is an inch away and I feel strangely light-headed like I always do when he touches me.

  “You don’t know me. You just want me because you’re lonely, because I’ve saved your ass from your psycho brother, and because I fuck you like you want to be fucked. But you don’t want me.”

  Even though some of that rings true—I am lonely—that doesn’t mean that I don’t admire him. He was very sweet with me at Coney Island. I just want more of that.

  “That’s not true.”

  He sighs impatiently. “You don’t know me.”

  “I know that you’re bad at air hockey.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  How? How can I show him that I want him?

  There’s some kind of sadness in his eyes, too. That deep-seated emptiness that made me so unnerved by him in the first place. He got better as I got to know him. He lost that soulless look, but it’s back now.

  Joe takes both shoulders in his hands. He strokes my skin with his thumbs and I bite my lip to keep from sighing.

  “I thought I was pretty clear from the beginning. Just sex. Just fun.”

  It was never that simple. He helped me with my brother twice and comforted me.

  “I know, but I can’t help it. It doesn’t feel like just sex to me.”

  “Well, it is to me.”

  The hardness in his voice almost makes me want to pull away from him, to run and hide. He’s not trying to be cruel, but it feels like it anyway.

  Of cou
rse.

  I’m not special. Not to him anyway.

  Just let it go.

  I find my blouse and slip it on, buttoning it back up as Joe looks at me with a slack-jawed expression. I sit back down on my chair and open my laptop, trying to tease my hair into something that doesn’t scream, “I just had sex!”

  Considering the man I’m interested in is in the fucking mafia, I should be glad that he doesn’t want anything more. What in the fucking fuck is wrong with me? Why do I feel so devastated right now?

  When I look up, he’s still standing there. My lips press together. “Is there something you need me to do?”

  His face softens. “Don’t be like that.”

  I try to focus on the screen. I try not to hold in my breath when he walks closer, but it’s impossible. His finger strokes the side of my face.

  “If you want to fuck me, then fuck me. If not, then get out.”

  Joe’s snide laughter rings in my ears. “All right. See you later.”

  The door slams a little hard behind him, the walls vibrating a little more than they should.

  * * *

  I don’t want to be one of those pathetic women, who hangs on to a guy even after he’s stated his complete lack of interest, but I feel like I might become one.

  I regret it.

  Why couldn’t I just enjoy it, like he said?

  The office darkens as I shut off the light, and I trudge downstairs by myself, avoiding the noisy lights of the entrance.

  Because I’m a fucking idiot, that’s why.

  The door opens in front of me as I push, and I step into the night. The parking lot is eerily silent and the powerful lights flooding the area freak me out, for some reason. Everything is too white. My footsteps seem to echo too loudly as I approach my car.

  Somehow, I know that I’m being watched.

  I bundle my jacket around my waist, suddenly cold as I feel a breeze, but it’s not a breeze. There’s movement behind me. I spin around, as a sharp pain pierces my chest and a man throws something black—something soft over my head. The black hood swallows my scream as he twists my arms behind my back and I hear the scream of a car rapidly approaching.

  “Nathan, what are you doing?”