End Game (A Dark Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

  Vince looked at me with a half-frustrated, half-amused look. “This is my fucking fault for telling you that story about my wife.”

  Yeah, probably.

  “Can you at least tell me where her brother is?”

  “I’m sure he’s in hiding.”

  I refused to go to the deli. Jack wanted to talk. Fuck Jack. He wanted me to kill someone who was innocent. I won’t apologize for what I did. I don’t regret it. Whatever, they can get someone else to do their fucking collections. One thing I know for sure—I’m done doing that shit.

  Marisa finally turns off the movie and leaves the TV on the news. I heave a sigh of relief and she gives me a guilty smile. The couch makes a creaking sound as she crawls onto my lap. My heart squeezes and releases when her face nestles in my neck. When I question myself and wonder if I’m losing my goddamn mind to be risking so much for her, all I have to do is remind myself of this feeling. I love holding her, touching her soft skin, feeling her warm breath on my neck.

  Why? Why her?

  She got under my skin from the beginning, when she looked at me with those deep blue eyes, which were swimming in tears at the funeral. I felt a connection with her. And then I got to know her. Couldn’t get enough of her body. The sex was always hot as hell, and having her trapped at my apartment for a week was like a fantasy come to life. Having her whenever I wanted: in the shower, on the kitchen table, handcuffed to my bed. She wanted me just as badly as I wanted her.

  Then when Jack told me what needed to be done, I felt like my life was over. That’s when I knew I loved her, because I never cared so much for another girl. I couldn’t stand her being hurt. Even now, it makes my throat close into a pin-sized hole.

  She’s got me wrapped around her little finger, but I don’t dare let her know that.

  “I wish we could leave this apartment.”

  “We can if you want.”

  Marisa shakes her head. I don’t blame her for not wanting to leave. A horde of paparazzi camp outside her apartment every day, waiting for her to come out so they can ask shitty questions like whether it’s true if she snorted lines of coke on her father’s desk.

  “Where would you go, if you could go anywhere?”

  “The zoo—or maybe Papabubble. It’s a candy store.”

  My skin shivers when her lips move over my neck. She shifts herself on my lap and I stifle a groan, feeling my cock coming to life. Her hands smooth my chest, and I take her gorgeous head in my hands. I want to feel her lips against mine. I want to swallow every moan she makes, but she looks troubled.

  “There’s something that’s still bothering me,” she admits. Her eyes tremble as she meets my gaze. “All of this—dating me and sleeping with me, was it just to get close to me? So you could have more control over me?”

  She flinches from the anger burning in my eyes. “Sorry—”

  “I don’t fuck women because someone tells me too,” I hiss, angrily. “Yeah, I wanted to get close to you. I wanted to fuck you the moment I met you, and it wasn’t because you owned a casino.”

  “All right, I’m sorry.”

  Marisa’s cheeks are pink, just like they always are whenever I whisper filthy things in her ears. Still angry, my hands lift her shirt and she raises her arms. Her shirt flies off and her unmarked, beautiful skin shines under the light. I reach around her back and she leans into me, her soft hair against the side of my face. A quick swipe of my hand, and her bra falls down her arms, exposing her perfect tits. Her chest blushes as I grab one of her creamy-white tits to squeeze. Marisa’s lips part as she sucks in breath.

  “You are right about one thing, though. I wanted control over you.”

  Her eyelashes flutter right before I pin her against the couch. I kiss her pretty little mouth, anxious to see how it would look wrapped around my cock, which protests against the stiff fabric of my jeans. My tongue slides in between her yielding lips and with my hands, I tug her jeans down her legs. Fucking skinny jeans. They’re always so hard to take off.

  I bite her lip and grab both legs of her jeans, yanking them off finally. She sits up, and the way she plants her hands on the couch makes her tits stick out.

  Control.

  I sit down next to her and grab a handful of her blonde hair, pulling her across my lap until my hand grazes over her lace panties. My finger trails down her spine, my palm smoothing her silky skin. I stop just above the two globes. The blue lace panties are semi-transparent. My mouth waters as I grab ahold of her ass and squeeze.

  God-fucking-dammit.

  I pull the panties down and stroke her smooth skin. It’s been way too long. The need to mark her as mine rises inside me. My blood churns inside my own head as I raise my hand and spank that soft ass. Her legs twitch and she lets out a small yelp. I smooth the red burn that blossoms and then I spank her again. The sound cuts through the air. My hand tingles as it connects with her body, her ass a rosy, pink color. Each time, her back quivers, she gasps, and blood rushes to her skin. The shape of my hand burns on the warm, quivering round flesh. I smooth my hand over the mark.

  This was what I wanted from her. I wanted the rich, uptight girl naked across my lap, begging for my cock. A spasm of anger moves through my limbs, and I clench my fist over her raw skin. It bothers me that she thought I would fuck her on command, as if I’m some kind of robot.

  Without preamble, I unbuckle my belt and she turns her head around at the noise. She moans when she catches a glimpse of the leather strip.

  “No, please.”

  I lean over her until my cock digs into her ass and she winces at my weight pinning her down. “Are you the one in charge? Did I imagine it when you said you wanted me to take complete control?”

  “No.”

  I barely catch her response. “I can’t fucking hear you.”

  She frowns. “No.” More resolute.

  “That’s right. So keep that pretty mouth shut while I punish you for suggesting that I’m some kind of man whore.”

  THWACK!

  The leather belt snaps on her beautiful ass, an angry red streak searing across her backside almost immediately. She yelps loudly and squirms under me. My low laugh washes over her ears and she aims a look that could kill in my direction.

  Insolence.

  SMACK!

  Another scream lifts to my ears as the belt lands on her other cheek. I’m really not hitting her that hard, but I rub the spot to soothe her anyway.

  A smile twitches on my face. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  My hand gouges her raw ass. “Do you mean it?”

  “Yes! I’m sorry!”

  “All right.”

  I pull her up so that she sits on my lap and wrap my arms around her, kissing her red face until she sighs with relief. My cock stirs as her tits rustle against my chest and I feel a sudden, overwhelming need to take her into her bedroom and fuck her senseless.

  “I’m sorry, Joe.”

  She wraps her legs around my waist and I stand up with her in my arms. She wears a thoughtful expression that confuses me. The wall groans as I pin her back against it. Marisa makes a small “oh!” as her back hits the wall. Heavily lidded eyes look at me. It’s like a fire blazing inside my chest when she looks at me with desire smoldering in her eyes.

  There was always a barrier with other women. One girl was never enough, but she wants me just as often as I want her. It’s more than that, though. I actually—I get nervous when I’m around her. That’s never happened before.

  I never gave a fuck about what anyone thought of me before. My heart hammers like I’ve just taken a hit when she tugs my tie. It beats faster and faster, like a loud drum in my head when her lips burn against mine. Then this strange, weak feeling spreads through my limbs. It’s like booze—warm and dizzying, but immensely satisfying.

  Damn it, I love her. I don’t know why, I just feel so fucking weak when I’m around her.

  My hands run over her thighs as he
r fingers loosen my tie and shirt. She pulls back and wets her lips, looking just as dazed as I feel. Then I one-handedly yank my trousers down and my cock bounces free, a bead of precum glistening on the head.

  “Fuck me.”

  She breathes into my neck and blood rushes to my brain. I lift her up and guide my cock into her pussy, which slides around the head. A shudder runs up my legs as I slowly push into her. Marisa gasps, the sound like adrenaline through my veins as she wraps her arms around my head. I feel her pussy widening for me as my cock slides into her. I slam into her, gripping her waist as my face is buried in her tits. I grab a mouthful and bite down. She lets out a long hiss that ends in a yelp when my cock stabs into her.

  Her warmth glides all around me, squeezing my length as I pulse inside her. Pleasure spikes into my brain and the urge to fuck her harder focuses into one solitary purpose: to fill her with my cum. My mouth kisses her beautiful, soft skin. Those amazing tits. I grab the other, tongue swirling around her slightly salty skin, sucking down hard as she throws back her head and moans. Then I kiss her throat, and she grunts with every thrust.

  I fuck her so hard she screams, her voice lifting and echoing. “Joe! Joe!” It’s a frantic chant that makes my blood pressure rise. My arm is a vice around her waist and I bend my legs, thrusting so hard I can feel her body shake. It feels so amazing. I slam her back against the wall with the force of my legs. Then I gather her in my arms, bringing her into her bedroom.

  She falls onto the bed and I pull out of her, her back a red color. I climb up behind her as she rests on all fours, pussy glistening. Her knees tuck inside mine as I grab her waist and guide my cock inside. The warm wetness swallows me once against, deeper than before. She lets out high-pitched yells as my cock digs into her. My hips slam against her bouncing ass and my hand rips over her cheek, the beautiful pink color rising to her skin again. I lean forward grabbing her tits which sway in my rhythm. I spank her again and fresh moans lift to my ears.

  She sways her hips to meet mine, and I lean on her back. Her body falls on the bed, and I rip off my shirt and tie, slamming into that gorgeous ass. The pressure builds around my cock and she squeezes me. I slide my hand under her chest and grab one of her tits. Everything inside me screams to fuck her faster. She feels amazing and my balls tingle with a sensation that means my orgasm is imminent. Then I let out a growl as my cock twitches inside her. I ram it home and come hard, my hips jerking into her. I kiss her slightly damp shoulder, alternating between affectionate kisses and hard, passionate bites. Pleasure spreads all over my limbs in a warm glow like sunbathing.

  “I love you, Marisa.”

  I whisper it into her ear and she turns around, eyes blazing. She kisses me long and hard, but doesn’t say it back. My heart clenches as a painful sting eats away at it. I can’t expect her to feel the same way after what happened.

  Then the door in the hallway rattles and shakes. An angry voice shouts behind it. We both jump in the bed.

  I sit up, heart thumping sluggishly as I quickly find my clothes and pull them on. I look at her lying on her bed, her eyes wide. “I’ll get the door.”

  “Answer the fucking door!”

  I recognize that angry voice and hastily shove on my slacks. Marisa wraps a robe around herself as I walk to the door and open it.

  An irritated Vince walks inside without an invitation, wearing a navy suit. He glances at Marisa briefly and turns back to me. “You don’t answer your fucking phone now?”

  “Ah—I was busy.”

  Vince looks at my haggard appearance and Marisa’s state of undress, and a smile cracks over his face. “Oh.” His eyes glint mischievously

  “Yeah,” I say, eyes narrowing.

  Can you fucking leave, now?

  A moment freezes between us, and then he sighs, the amusement disappearing from his face. “I have some bad news. The feds just raided Worlds Casino.”

  “What?”

  Marisa stares at us down the hall, her eyes wide.

  He ignores her, black eyes zeroing on me. “I need to know if she’s been talking to the feds.”

  “No way!” I bristle. “I’ve been watching her,” I say in an undertone.

  She runs to the living room and we follow her. The TV still blares with the news. I’m surprised we didn’t hear anything. On the cracked screen, a bold headline with a marquee runs:

  CROOKED CASINO: BOARD MEMBERS, MOBSTERS INDICTED IN CHARGES OF BRIBERY & EXTORTION

  A high gasp escapes from Marisa and she claps her hands over her mouth, sinking into the couch. Images of board members arrested from their homes scroll across the screen as a reporter lists a series of names that include several of Jamie Tucci’s men. Hair rises at the back of my neck and Vince gives me a significant look.

  “Someone talked to the feds.” He aims the statement towards Marisa, who looks at him with daggers in her eyes.

  “Fuck you. I’ve been with him this whole time.”

  Jesus.

  I look at him nervously, but he takes it in stride.

  “This is not good, Marisa.”

  I grab Vince’s arm, anger searing my chest. “It’s not her fault.”

  “Someone talked, and if you ask me, she’s the most likely suspect.”

  She stands up slowly from the couch and seethes. “I didn’t say you could come into my house. Get out.”

  I walk to her, my nerves blazing, and curl an arm around her waist. Her body feels stiff in my embrace. “C’mon, baby. He’s just trying to help.”

  Vincent crosses his arms and smirks. “You need to listen to your boyfriend and shut up. We need to figure out now how much these assholes know. They’re probably going to try to talk to her soon, if they haven’t already.”

  Another fierce knock rattles the door, and Marisa’s face pales. All of us freeze in the living room and I don’t think we draw breath.

  “FBI! Open the door!”

  “Fuck.”

  He clenches his jaw. “We shouldn’t been seen with her. Goddamn it.”

  Marisa runs to her bedroom and she pulls on clothes rapidly, motioning me towards the closet. “Maybe you should hide, or something!”

  A smile somehow jumps on my face and I look round at Vince, who slinks into the kitchen, out of sight. “Yeah, all right.”

  She dashes out and I hear the door creak open. “What do you want?”

  Shit. That tone.

  “Ms. Toffoli, we’d like to ask you a few questions. Is it all right if we come inside?”

  No. No. Say, ‘no.’

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll need you to come in for questioning.”

  “All right. When?”

  “Now.”

  She sighs impatiently. “Well, fine. Let me get my things.”

  The door shuts in the face of the FBI agents and she returns to the bedroom, pale and shaking. I grasp her arms as she makes a whimpering sound. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Just don’t say anything about us or Jamie Tucci.”

  “Even about him? Why not?”

  My chest strains. “You can’t do it. We never talk to the cops about our enemies, just trust me on this.”

  Her eyes look doubtful. “I don’t know.”

  “Promise me.”

  The grittiness in my voice makes her look up. “Okay.”

  I stroke her cheek, hating that she has to go through this. “I’ll be here, okay? I’ll wait for you.”

  “Thanks.” Her eyes brim with tears as she gives me a quick kiss, and then she dashes out of the room, grabbing her purse. I duck back inside as she opens the door, and then it slams shut.

  I step outside, already feeling the emptiness of her not being around, like a trail of smoke. Vince’s ominous figure stands in the low light of the living room.

  His voice booms out like a premonition of doom.

  “We need to talk.”

  MARISA

  I wipe my face in the back of the squad car, feeling like a prisoner as they
drive me to wherever the hell they’re going to interrogate me. My company’s in ruins, and now I might be in trouble. Joe says I can’t tell them anything. Nothing to save myself.

  Could it get any fucking worse?

  I think I probably know who talked to the feds. It was probably Jessica, but there was no way I was going to mention that to them. She probably thought she was doing something good for me.

  Fuck.

  They bring me into a white-walled room, with a giant, two-way mirror. I assume that there are people standing behind it, watching us. Watching me.

  The white walls resemble a block of ice and my back shivers as I pull out one of the uncomfortable metal seats. Three federal agents, a woman and two men, sit down in front of me. The balding, older man with straight, dark eyebrows stares at me and extends a cold hand.

  “Ms. Toffoli, I’m Agent Eric Palmer and these are my colleagues: Agents Gonzalez and Brown.”

  I shake the hand limply, holding in my breath. I manage a sort of frightened squeak.

  “I’d like to express my condolences on the death of your father. It mustn’t have been easy, taking over from him.”

  Agent Palmer gives me a piercing look that’s at odds with his words.

  “It wasn’t.”

  A judgmental tone creeps into his voice. “Especially when you had to deal with mobsters from Jersey and New York City.”

  He strikes out at me like a snake, sinking his teeth in deep. Heat immediately rushes to my face and Agent Palmer wears a satisfied smile. Fuck, I’ve just confirmed what he was thinking. I clench my hands on the table.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah. I bet you don’t.”

  He opens a folder in front of him and spreads a series of photographs of me with Joey. In some of them, we’re holding hands. A slow burn starts from the base of my neck and spreads to the tips of my ears.

  “Do you know this man?” He taps the photos.

  I shrug.

  “He’s a known gang associate of the Vittorio Crime Family. Ms. Toffoli, we’ve seen him at the casino. We know Jack Vittorio was involved in Worlds Casino.”

  “I don’t—I don’t know anything—”