“I want to come.” She tightened her grip on his hair and pulled him forward. Dammit. She had been so close, and she wanted to be there again.
“How?” He inched forward, using his broad shoulders to spread her obscenely wide as he parted her folds with his fingers.
“With your mouth.”
“Like this?” He flicked his hot, wet tongue over her labia, circling her entrance until she was rocking her hips trying to get his tongue where she needed it to go.
“My clit.” She panted her breaths, her reticence fleeing before a tidal wave of desire. “Lick my clit.”
“Not dirty enough. This is all you get.” He rolled his finger over her clit, gently at first, and then faster, enough to drive her wild but not enough to send her over the edge.
“Oh God, Rocco.” She panted her breaths. “More. I need more.”
“Tell me.”
“Lick my pussy. Suck me. Fuck me. Make me come.”
“Good girl.” He nipped her clit with his teeth, sucked it into his mouth as he plunged two fingers into her entrance.
She cried out, her nails digging into his scalp, her head banging against the door, as he licked and sucked while his fingers pounded inside her.
“I’m going to—”
He stood, sliding her leg gently off his shoulder. Stunned, still lost to the pleasure of his mouth, she watched as he yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside.
“I want you to come on my cock,” he said as he shoved his clothing over his hips. “I want to feel that hot, wet pussy. I want to hear my name on your lips.”
Her gaze dropped down to the piercing glistening at the end of his cock, and her mouth watered remembering just how it felt rubbing against her sensitive inner walls.
He pulled a condom from his pocket and sheathed himself, rolling it slowly over his hardened length. He was inside her before she could speak, stretching her, filling her, the cold steel of his piercing a delicious burn. With one hand, he drew her leg up and around his hip, fingers digging into her ass, while the other tangled in her hair drawing her head back to bare her throat to the heated slide of his lips.
She cried out as he thrust into her, clung to his shoulders, begged with all the dirty words she had never dared say for him to give her the release he had been holding out of reach.
Rocco growled into her throat and devoured her with hungry kisses and hard sucks on her skin that she knew would leave bruises. But she didn’t care. She wanted to remember this. She wanted to feel the burn and remember all his wildness.
“So fucking sexy.” One hand slipped between them and he circled his finger around her clit, rubbing over the tight nub in time to his long, deep thrusts.
“Now, cara mia. Come with me.” He sealed his mouth over hers and she came with a deep, guttural groan, his name tearing from her throat as he continued to pump inside her. And then his cock thickened and the sound of his release, low and primal, send another climax shivering through her.
For the longest time, they held each other, arms intertwined, hearts thudding together. Grace closed her eyes and thought back to the nights she had fallen asleep warm and safe in Rocco’s bed with his body curled around hers listening to the sound of his voice as he whispered beautiful things in her ear.
“I like the bossiness when we’re having sexy times,” she said softly, looking up to trace the outline of his jaw with her finger. “It turns me on. But the bossiness outside the bedroom … not so much.”
He caught her finger, drew it to his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I want to watch you come.”
“When would that be?”
“After I find out what our Albanian friend has to say about Tom.” He kissed her finger and pulled away, leaving her bereft. While he disposed of the condom, she pulled on her clothes, their sweet moment destroyed by her guilt over what she was sending him to do. Once he walked out the door, there would be no going back. Whatever happened to the man in the warehouse would be on her shoulders, even if she wasn’t there to throw the first punch.
“What if he doesn’t talk?” she asked when he returned.
“He will.” Rocco cupped her jaw in his hand and tipped her face up to his. “I promise he will walk away when I’m done, or if he can’t walk, he’ll still be breathing.”
Grace let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Pleasure.”
“I want to come with you if you get a lead.”
Rocco snorted. “Not in a million years.”
“He’s my brother.”
“And he’s in some deep shit right now, and I don’t want you involved. Either he’s hiding and won’t be happy to have both of us show up on his doorstep, or he’s been kidnapped, in which case you would be a liability. This is business, cara mia, and women don’t get involved.”
“Someone wanted to kill my dad and brother and kidnap me,” she said, bristling. “That makes me involved. And I’m not going to sit around playing victim when I could be doing something. I’m not stupid. I’m not planning to take unnecessary risks, but we have a lead because I had the idea to trace Tom’s phone. So don’t just dismiss me as a ‘liability.’”
His mouth opened and closed as if he were going to say something and thought better of it. “Fair enough.”
She heard footsteps on the porch and pushed Rocco toward the living room, hoping to hide any signs of their illicit activity. “Look casual.”
Rocco snorted a laugh and sat on the couch, putting his feet up on the table just as Ethan and Olivia walked in the door.
“Grace! What’s going on? Who are all the guys outside?” Ethan spotted Rocco on the couch and took a step back. “Whoa. Dude. You gonna break down the door again?”
“It’s okay,” Grace said. “He’s under control. We’re … um … together.”
Ethan’s face fell. “Together together?”
Creak. She didn’t need to look over to know Rocco was off the creaky sofa and was on the prowl. Moments later she felt his heavy possessive arm on her shoulders. And although he didn’t speak, the message was clear.
Mine.
“Yeah.” She glanced up. Rocco’s expression hadn’t changed. But was that the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips? One less crease in his perpetual scowl? “Sorry, Ethan. I should have told you earlier but…”
“Hey. It’s okay.” Ethan shrugged. “If it was going to work out between us, it would have worked out long ago. Just glad you found someone who makes you happy, even if he does like to break down doors.”
Rocco gave a satisfied grunt and shook Ethan’s offered hand. “Gonna have some security at your place for a bit, but you just carry on as usual.”
“Security for what?” Ethan glanced over at the guard standing near the window. “Is Grace in danger?”
“Classified.”
“Classified?” Ethan’s brow creased. “If she’s in danger, I need to know. Are you in the secret service? FBI? CIA? Undercover police? Military?”
“Something like that.”
Ethan folded his arms across his chest, and for the first time she realized he had an alpha side. “Something like that isn’t an answer.”
“The guys who put my dad in the hospital are still out there, and Rocco’s worried they might come after me,” Grace said by way of explanation. “I’m going to stay with him for a bit, but when I’m home I guess his guards will be here with me. It’s just a precaution.”
“Which one can I have?” Olivia murmured, half to herself. “I prefer blondes but I could make do with either of the guys on the porch.”
“Can you still go out?” Ethan looked from Grace to Rocco and back to Grace. “Our last gig was a disaster. Sunita was totally wrecked. Her voice was gone from all the smoking and she had no idea what was happening on stage. After two songs, I pulled her off and we just went instrumental until the end. I apologized to the manager and told him he didn’t have to pay us, and this morning I kicked her out of the ban
d. Now I have no vocalist and we have the Stardust gig booked for tonight.”
Rocco gave a curious grunt of irritation, and Grace looked up at him and frowned.
“Anything you wanted to say?”
“No.”
“Could you help us out?” Ethan begged. “Just for one night. I’ve been auditioning vocalists, but I haven’t found anyone yet.”
“I can’t, Ethan.” Her hand went to her cheek and she realized she rarely thought about her scar anymore. But that didn’t mean it was gone. “I’ll be there to support you, but I just can’t go on stage.”
* * *
Rocco washed the lingering traces of blood from his hands in the men’s restroom at the Stardust, listening to Danny introduce the band. He knew all the musicians now after meeting them last night. Grace had convinced him to stick around for dinner when the other members of the band showed up. Although he didn’t have much to say, he’d enjoyed chilling out with them, listening to their stories about gigs gone bad, having a few drinks and playing with the dog with Grace curled up beside him on the couch.
He’d stayed the night with her, indulging himself in her deliciously naked body until they’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. It had almost been normal, at least until dawn, when he’d had to leave her in the care of the guards and go out to the warehouse to spend the day torturing information out of an Albanian hit man who didn’t want to talk.
In the end, however, the bastard had talked. They always talked. No one left a De Lucchi interrogation without spilling his guts—in every sense of the word.
Fuck. He hadn’t meant to kill the guy. He had tried his very best to fulfill his promise. He really had. But what the fuck was he supposed to do when Mike and Paolo had forgotten to search the bastard before they tied him up and he’d jumped Rocco with a knife in the middle of questioning?
Lesson learned. He couldn’t make that promise again because if he hadn’t been so focused on trying not to kill the bastard once the torture got underway, he would have seen the subtle movements of the Albanian’s arms that would have alerted him to the fact the dude had a knife down the back of his jeans.
Death was inevitable once the guy rushed him. Although he hated what he had become, he was a member of the De Lucchi crew, and the insult could be addressed in only one way.
By the time the clean-up crew arrived and he’d dumped the body in Lake Mead, it was too late to go back to Grace’s house and he’d sent her a message—after finally exchanging numbers—that he’d meet her at the club.
He wasn’t looking forward to giving her the bad news that Tony had hired the Albanians to find Tom, or that Tony had given them Tom’s phone, because it meant that Tony or his guys were likely responsible for the Carvello shooting. The only people who had the power to give permission to whack the New York underboss were the don and his consigliere. But the consigliere had already given the contract to Cesare who had given it to Rocco, which meant the only person who could have ordered Tony to whack Nunzio and Tom was the don himself. But it didn’t make sense. If he wanted them out of the way, why wait until they were in Vegas? Why go through Tony? And what did he want with Grace?
Rocco checked his hands under the restroom light. Blood had a nasty way of getting under his nails and he didn’t want to touch Grace with blood-stained hands.
When his hands were finally clean, he left the restroom and walked down the hallway. Stormy Blu had just started their set, and the first few bars of Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night” drifted down the hall, bringing back memories of Grace and the first time they met. But when the vocalist sang the first line, he froze.
Christ. He’d never heard anything so bad. The dude sounded like he was being tortured, and Rocco knew all variations on that theme. His teeth clenched at the butchered sound.
“Go.” A woman’s voice echoed down the hallway. “You have to get out there. He’s going to destroy the band’s reputation. They’ll never get another gig in the city.”
“I can’t go on stage.”
His heart skipped a beat. Grace. And that had to be Olivia with her.
“It’s like someone’s pouring shattered glass in my ears,” Olivia said. “Please. Put him out of his misery. No, put the audience out of their misery. Any moment now, there’s going to be a stampede out the door. You know the songs. You rehearsed with them when Sunita couldn’t make it. You have a beautiful voice. It’s just this one time. Think how desperate Ethan must be to sing on stage. I know he’s auditioning vocalists this weekend. I’m sure he’ll find someone.”
“Why didn’t he just go instrumental?”
“Apparently the manager wasn’t happy with that suggestion. It was sing or lose the gig, and he didn’t want to let the guy down.”
Rocco heard Grace curse. “It’s been six years since I sang in public. And last time I didn’t have the scar. They’re just going stare at my face.”
Pain spiked through his body at the thought that his beautiful Gracie was too ashamed to sing. And it was because of him, because he’d wanted her too much, because he’d been too selfish to let her go until it was too goddamn late.
“I bought this, just in case,” Olivia said.
He heard the rustle of a bag and then, “What is it?”
“A mask of sorts. Half a mask. Really it’s just a little lace and crochet work with some beads, but on the model it looked very sexy and mysterious. It doesn’t really hide much, but I thought it might be enough to give you a small measure of comfort.”
The tinny sound of feedback echoed down the hallway, and Rocco cringed. Fuck. Even though he hadn’t signed the papers, he felt no small measure of responsibility for the club. Ethan was going to destroy the Stardust’s reputation as well as that of the band. And what if Rocco did take over the club one day? Damned if he would own a club that was known for hiring bad bands. If this didn’t end soon he would get Danny to put an end to the travesty.
“What do you think?”
Rocco walked down the hallway and pushed on the partially open door. Grace stood in front of a mirror in what he assumed was the band’s backstage space. She wore a loose, flowery dress that was way too short for his liking, and a pair of cowboy boots that made her long, toned legs seem even longer. The delicate mask, all soft woven string and lace hid none of her beauty and instead made her look sultry and mysterious and sexy as fuck.
“I like it.” Grace’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Rocco in the mirror, and she gasped.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just got off work.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed an oh of surprise. But it was “work.” Although this time he wasn’t getting paid.
“Sing,” he said. “You’ve got a beautiful voice. You should share it. You make people feel…” He thumped his chest. “In here.”
Grace stared at him, her gaze burning a path to his soul. “I don’t know…”
“I won’t let anything happen to you up there,” he promised, knowing this was a promise he could keep. “Anything goes wrong, you feel uncomfortable, anyone even looks at you the wrong way, I’ll end it.”
“You’ll end it?” Olivia snorted. “How? You’ll rush the stage?”
“I own the club.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them, but he could make it a truth with the wave of a pen.
Grace frowned. “You own Stardust?”
“Almost. All the paperwork is done. Just gotta sign on the dotted line. You go up there tonight, and I’ll sign.”
Her face softened. “I didn’t think you could…” She trailed off, her gaze flicking to Olivia and then back to him. “That’s kind of cool.”
“That mean you’ll sing?”
She drew in a shuddering breath. “You’ll be here?”
“I’ll be right here, Gracie. Just like I used to be. I never missed one of your performances and I’m not gonna start now.”
She looked from him to Olivia and back to him. “Okay, since it’s yo
ur club, and it’s just this once. And I’ll wear the mask.”
After Olivia helped her tie on the mask, and Rocco gave her a kiss for luck, she walked out to the stage.
Rocco thought he’d almost burst from pride as they followed her. “She’s singing,” he said to Olivia as if she hadn’t just been standing there when Grace agreed to sing.
Olivia looked up at him and glared. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say. I don’t know what you did to her in the past, and it seems she’s forgiven you, but I’m still watching. And I’m telling you right now that if you put that scar on her face there is nothing I won’t do to keep her away from you.”
He pressed his lips together, feeling no need for a response. Although he hadn’t wielded the blade, he was responsible for everything that had happened that night at Newton Creek.
“I’ve lived in Vegas all my life,” Olivia whispered, slowing her steps as Grace walked onto the stage. “I have connections. I know people. Scary people.”
His gaze sliced to her, and he gave her a glimpse of what lay just beneath the surface of his otherwise expressionless face.
Olivia paled, but didn’t back down. “Maybe not quite as scary as you, but you get my point.”
“Yeah.” His lips quivered at the corners. He wasn’t afraid of any man or woman. But she was a protector, and he liked that Grace had her for a friend.
Grace joined Ethan at the front of the stage, and relief flickered across Ethan’s face. He stepped back to give her the floor and picked up his guitar. Grace easily segued into the song, and Sinatra’s “Something Stupid” became something beautiful.
Just like her.
She was the epitome of everything Rocco wanted but could never have. She was all the goodness in the world, and listening to her exquisite voice ripped something loose in his heart.
He didn’t move while she was on stage, but he did make a decision, and when the band was done and he was waiting in the back hallway to see her, he was ready when his phone rang with the call he had known would come.
Rocco: A Mafia Romance (Ruin & Revenge) Page 16