Submitting in Vegas: (Vegas Morellis, #3)

by Sam Mariano

  “Are you ever going to let that go?” I ask, out of curiosity.

  Also, is Sin into this shit, too? Man, I really missed the kink boat. It went sailing off without me. I hope I like this shit, or Rafe’s probably going to get bored.

  Even though the timing is piss-poor, since the thought just crossed my mind and he hasn’t fucked me since the wedding ceremony, I suddenly have to ask. “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping with me? Are you bored? Do you need more of… this?”

  Sensing legitimate insecurity, he releases my chin, climbs off of me, and drops onto the bed beside me. I roll on my side so I can face him.

  “Virginia, no. Of course I’m not bored with you.”

  “Well, it’s a valid concern,” I tell him. “I know Cassandra was into the same stuff you’re into—more, even. You said the cane was for her more than you. I don’t know what any of your girlfriends were like before her. Have you ever even dated anyone who didn’t share your sexual appetites?”

  “No,” he admits, his gaze dropping to my breasts, covered by the pale blue satin. “I guess I understand why you’d wonder. Ordinarily, I would never even consider dating someone who didn’t share at least some of my sexual interests, and here I went and married you without even dipping a toe in. I must like you or something,” he says, lightly.

  He might be joking, but I don’t find the possibility of losing his interest very funny. “So, what if we try it and I don’t like enough about that lifestyle to sustain your interest? What if I can’t get comfortable with the toys and the… the pain?” I ask, barely mustering the courage to hold his gaze. “What, then? Will I ever be enough for you?”

  Reaching a hand out and caressing my face, Rafe assures me, “You’re already more than enough for me, Virginia. How can you doubt that? What I have with you is about much more than sex; ours is the most substantial relationship I’ve ever had with a woman in my life. And I told you before, I’m not a sadist. I don’t get off on your pain. I like your vulnerability, your trust…”

  “The things you’re making it impossible for me to give you,” I state. “You’re punishing me because you think I might have done something wrong someday, and in the process, you’re destroying any chance we have at happiness now.”

  Instead of acknowledging that I’m right, he trails the backs of his fingers along my jawline. “Is it really so terrible being my wife?”

  Meeting his gaze, searching for some understanding of what he has made me feel over these past few days, I see nothing. I don’t know if he’s deliberately closing himself off so I can’t see, or he really doesn’t get it.

  “I’m not your wife, Rafe. I’m your prisoner.”

  “My prisoner,” he repeats.

  I hold my ground. “When will I be allowed to go out without a chaperone? Will you ever give me my car back? When can I go back to work? You’ve trapped me here in this house. It might be a lush prison with lovely bars, but it’s a prison all the same. You don’t trust me, and you make sure I know it. You make me marry you, and then you don’t even stay home on our wedding night. Is this the future you want for us? Is this the life you want?”

  I guess my reality has killed his arousal, because instead of spanking, fucking, or responding to me, Rafe sighs and climbs off the bed.

  “It’s time to start dinner.”

  My shoulders sag with disappointment and I bury my face in the pillow. Of course he walks away. Of course I finally open up a dialogue with him about our situation, and he wants no part of it.

  39

  Virginia

  Laurel took the keys and went to the car, but for some reason, Sin is hanging back. I’m not sure if they have business to attend to or what, but they’re both just sitting here at the island, not talking, while I clean up the kitchen.

  Finally, I look back at them over my shoulder. “Did you want me to go in the other room so you two can talk?”

  “No,” Rafe says, shaking his head and leaning forward on the island. “I need to talk to you about something, actually, and you’re not going to like it.”

  “Oh, goodie,” I murmur, dropping a dishwasher tablet into the slot and closing the door. “What is it?”

  Sin answers. “Your buddy Felix was an undercover cop.”

  I spin around, my eyes widening. I’m not sure if I’m more alarmed by that information, or the past tense way he just referred to Felix. “An undercover cop? Like, FBI, or…?”

  Rafe shakes his head. “Local. It’s still a problem.”

  “Well, yeah. Did you… did you hurt him?”

  “No,” Rafe says slowly.

  “Because we can’t find him,” Sin states bluntly.

  “We figure he’s probably long gone by now. He fled the restaurant as soon as he realized I got to you before you could get away, and my guys at the station say he hasn’t been back to work, either. Unless he decided to save us all some time and blow the back of his skull off, he’s still out there somewhere.”

  I lean all my weight against the counter, feeling suddenly heavier. I liked Felix. I still like Felix. He clearly tried to save me as soon as he realized I was in trouble. He’s one of the good guys.

  “Well, I don’t know exactly why you’re telling me this,” I say, looking from Rafe to Sin, then back. “I haven’t heard from him, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t even know what all his messages said. Adrian reset my phone before he gave it back to me, so… the messages are gone.”

  “Think back, Virginia,” Rafe says, holding my gaze. “Did Felix say anything that might be real about where he’s from? Did he ever try to subtly let you know he wasn’t just a bartender? Did he say anything to you that could help us find him?”

  My jaw just about hits the floor. “Are you kidding me? You dismantle my life over my unique memory, and now you think I’m going to use it to help you find and kill a good man?” I laugh at the sheer audacity. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, Virginia.”

  I shake my head, turning around and picking up a wash cloth to wipe down the counter. “He didn’t say anything suspicious, Rafe. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

  “You didn’t even try.”

  “You don’t know if I’m trying,” I tell him. “Maybe I just reviewed every conversation I’ve ever had with him, just like that. Maybe I’m a mind wizard. Maybe I have a ‘search’ function. You don’t know how my brain works. Don’t tell me I didn’t try.”

  I hear the chair scrape the floor, so I’m not surprised when Rafe storms up behind me, his face serious. “This isn’t a fucking game, Virginia.” Gesturing to some obscure point off in the distance, he says, “If that little bastard is out there and he knows something, he could cause real problems for us—all of us. You included.”

  I shake my head, unconcerned. “He’s not going to cause problems for me. He likes me. You’re the one he hates.”

  “Yeah, well, that would be your problem now, too. Our honeymoon’s barely over; you ready to start making conjugal visits?”

  “Nope. If you go to prison, I’m taking my get-out-of-jail-free card and a shitload of your money and going to Ibiza or some shit. I’m gonna peace out of here. I’m not playing mob wife to a jailed gangster who won’t even—” I almost say who won’t even fuck me, then I remember Sin is here, and that’s probably too far. “No. You imprisoned me over nothing, so if you go to jail for your actual crimes, find yourself a pretty cell mate. Your waitress would have come to fuck you, but your wife is staying far away.”

  “Man, she fucking hates you,” Sin remarks.

  “It’s the wine,” Rafe mutters. “I shouldn’t let her drink. It turns her into a pain in the ass. She gets all mouthy and difficult. I swear to God, I’m going to dump out all the alcohol in the house.”

  “Alcohol usually makes people more honest,” Sin informs Rafe, lightly amused.

  “Yeah, well.”

  “Aw, man. Have fun with that. I’m going home with my wife who actually likes me,” Sin
says, sliding off his seat. “See ya later, Virginia.”

  “Bye, Sin,” I offer, waving.

  Rafe waits until Sin has had long enough to make it out the door and probably out to his car, then he leans against the counter, crosses his arms, and stares me down.

  “If you don’t care about me, think about Sin. Think about Laurel. If I go down, I guarantee Sin goes with me. That’s a given. Think about Skylar and Nicholas, forced to grow up without their fathers.”

  “Then Laurel would go back to Connecticut with Carly and Vince, and the babies wouldn’t be raised around active criminals. Is that really your worst case scenario? It sounds more like incentive. Might want to keep trying.”

  “Jesus, you are a mean drunk.”

  “And you’re a mean husband,” I inform him, tossing the cloth in the sink and wandering off. Checking the imaginary watch on my wrist, I say, “Oh no, it’s getting close to bedtime, you better change clothes and leave the house for no fucking reason.”

  “Is that resentment I detect?” he inquires.

  Theatrically widening my eyes, I spin around and regard him with jaw-dropping wonder. “Good God, is that Sherlock Holmes? It must be! Your skills of deduction are most impressive, dear husband. Most impressive, indeed.”

  Shaking his head, Rafe says, “All right, it’s time to take you to bed. You need to sleep it off. No more alcohol for you, you little pain in the ass.”

  “I’ll drink alcohol whenever I damn well please,” I inform him.

  “It’s like you consume alcohol and you’re suddenly possessed by an evil demon,” he informs me, grabbing my wrist and hauling me toward the bedroom.

  “If by evil demon you mean ‘good judgment’ then yes, absolutely.”

  Since he knows I don’t have anything nice to say, he doesn’t bother talking to me as he leads me up to the bedroom. Wordlessly, he moves behind me and unzips the satin shell of my top and slides it forward, down my arms. Next, he tugs my skirt down by the layers of tulle. That’s not how he should handle it, he should use the waistband, but I don’t care that much. I’m tired, my head is starting to ache, and all I want is to curl up in bed in his arms, but he’s undressing now, so I know he’ll probably change and leave, like he does every night.

  With a forlorn sigh, I bend down to undo the strap of my shoe, but I lose my balance and fall on my ass.

  “Are you all right?” Rafe asks.

  I giggle, nod, and tip over on my side. “I like wine.”

  “It doesn’t like you,” he informs me dryly, offering me his hand. “Come on, I’ll help you with your other shoe.”

  Even though I currently hate his face, when he says that, it brings back the lovely memory of that night in my apartment, him propping me against the wall and taking my shoes off me. Taking care of me like something precious to him.

  He’s so sweet when he wants to be.

  A swell of affection hits me as the memory swirls around my mind, and when my handsome husband puts a hand on my hip to steady me, I can’t quite separate the past from the present. I would have given anything, literally anything, to be his wife that night.

  Turns out, the price tag was higher than I expected, but here I have him, and I’m not even kissing him. What a waste. Rafe is such a good kisser.

  Swaying forward until my torso is resting against him, I loop my arms around his neck, lean my head on his shoulder, and start dancing with him. There’s no music playing, but I put some on in my head. He’s so warm. So strong. I love the way his skin feels.

  I want to feel more of his skin. I want to feel it everywhere, all over me. I want to taste him.

  Arousal stirs at the thought of my lips across his skin, at the memory of his eyes, sparkling with fondness.

  Mine. All mine.

  Still sort of dancing against him, I start kissing my way across his pecs. His nipple is just right there, so I open my mouth and swirl my tongue around it, sucking, then flicking it with my tongue. I mean to move my attention to the other nipple, but God, his abdomen. I want to kiss all down his abdomen, so I do. Every inch of him is so sexy. Even his hips are sexy.

  “I used to dream about you all the time,” I tell him, sinking to my knees so I can reach him better.

  “Yeah?” he murmurs, one corner of his mouth tugged up. “I bet that was better than the reality, huh?”

  I shake my head. “No. I mean, in some ways, sure, because it was a dream. But that wasn’t real. You’re my dream come true. You’re real, and real is better than perfect. I just wish you’d be my friend again, like before you found those stupid tapes. Love isn’t magic; it’s compatibility and chemistry and friendship, it’s honesty and communication. We’re good at all that. We could still love each other, but you won’t let us. And you’re probably doing all sorts of things so I won’t be able to love you anymore.”

  Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Abandoning the trail of kisses, I sink to the floor, then lie back and stretch my arms out. “I don’t know why you can’t just let me love you. I’d do such a good job at it. I do a good job at everything. I’m very good at things, you know.”

  Sounding vaguely amused, Rafe comes over to peel me off the floor. Once I’m sitting, he slides his arms beneath my body and lifts me up in his arms bridal style, like I weigh nothing.

  “Wow, I’m impressed,” I tell him.

  “I’m bound to impress you once in a while. Statistically, it’s bound to happen.”

  “You impress me plenty,” I assure him, as he deposits me on the bed. Before he can move away from it, I grab his arm and pull him toward me. “Don’t leave tonight. Please. Stay with me. I want you to cuddle with me like you did when you liked me.”

  “I still like you,” he informs me. I know I’m not pulling very hard, but he climbs on the bed anyway. “I’ll stay.”

  That lightens my load plenty. I tunnel under the bedspread and so does he. He didn’t bother turning the light on when we came in, and he kicked his pants off at some point, so we’re both ready for bed and nearly skin to skin. I’m only wearing a white lace bra and panty set, and he’s not wearing anything.

  I scoot over and snuggle close to him, pleasure wrapping around me like a warm blanket. Then his arms wrap around me and he pulls me against his body. Peace washes over me. We could have this all the time, if only he would let us. I would fight his demons with him, if only he would let me.

  “You don’t have to be a perfect husband,” I tell him, with my eyes closed. “I don’t expect that. I know you won’t always do the right thing and that’s fine. You’re human, and you never even wanted this. Just don’t cheat on me. Please don’t cheat on me. And if you already have this week, please don’t let me find out, because I won’t be able to forget, and I won’t be able to get past it, and I won’t be able to love you anymore….” I trail off, too sad to continue.

  “Hey,” he says, his tone so fierce, I open my eyes just in time to see his hand coming to cradle my face. “I have not cheated on you. I haven’t, and I won’t. I told you, I had to work.”

  “I know, but… you don’t even want to fuck me, so it stands to reason—”

  Now his hand slides over to cover my mouth and he shakes his head. “No.” Shifting his hand, he drags his thumb across my lower lip. “The only lips I want to kiss are yours.” Dragging his hand down my body until it’s between my legs, he cups me in the palm of his hand. “The only pussy I want to fuck is this one. I am not going to be unfaithful to you, Virginia. I promise.”

  “You make such good promises,” I tell him, caressing his face. “But you’re dreadfully bad at keeping them.”

  Rafe shakes his head. “Not this one. I won’t do that to you. I’ve had plenty of random pussy in my time. I know what else is out there. No one can give me what you give me. No one compares to you.”

  I smile, burrowing my face into his shoulder. “I like all the words you’re saying.”

  “Yeah?” he murmurs, his lips lightly brushing my neck.

  I nod g
ingerly, dragging my nails down his back.

  “Then how about we put my mouth to even better use,” he suggests.

  “Mm, I like the sound of that.”

  40

  Virginia

  One minute, I’m lying here on cloud nine, enjoying the feel of Rafe’s warm body fitted snugly against mine, the next he’s peeling off my panties, lifting me until I’m on my knees, and planting me over his face.

  Then his mouth is buried in my pussy, and I can’t even breathe.

  “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” I cry.

  My husband is very skilled with his tongue, and as I rake my fingers through my hair and ride his face the way I want to ride his cock, he reminds me how fast he can make me feel so good that my mind begins to splinter.

  I love the way he eats me out. Every stroke of his tongue is greedy and possessive. He owns every inch of this pussy, and he’ll lick and pleasure it as he sees fit. His fingers dig into my hips, and I cry out at the deliberate way he moves his tongue against my clit. It’s pure heaven.

  Just when the pleasure seems to have found a gloriously steady pace, he zeroes in on my clit, licking and sucking until I’m wild.

  “Rafe. Oh, God, Rafe,” I cry out, riding his tongue to the highest peak, then shuddering with pleasure and grinding my hips against him as I come.

  Rafe flips me on my back, pushes my legs over my head, and moves between my legs. I don’t even have time to catch my breath and his perfect cock is pushing inside me, stretching my skin as he moves deeper into my pussy. He doesn’t make it all the way in the first time. I’m too tight, and he’s not wearing a condom, but I’m dripping with a combination of arousal and Rafe after that delicious oral he gave me.

  He pulls his hips back and withdraws, then grasps his cock and pushes the tip inside me. “You ready for me, sweetheart?”

  I nod my head. “You don’t have to go easy. Bury yourself inside me. I can take it.”

  Positioning my legs on his shoulders to free up his hands, he tells me, “You’re perfect.” My heart fills up and a smile steals across my face, then Rafe locks our fingers together, pins my hands to the bed, and drives his cock inside me. I cry out with pleasure. It stings a little, but the way I like it. I love the sting of his invasion, the feeling of fullness when he’s all the way inside me.