Ace of Hearts: A Mafia Romance (Vegas Underground)

by Renee Rose

  She flashes me a glance filled with surprised gratitude and after a few more photos, squeezes my arm.

  “Okay, thank you. Let’s give Ms. Heart a break… thank you, that’s enough. Okay.” I shoo the rest of them away and lead her to the area near the podium reserved for handicapped and families with small children.

  “You like your fans,” I observe as we wait to board. I’m kind of amazed at how patient she was with all that bullshit.

  She pulls out her notebook and writes, I love them. They buy my albums and come to my concerts. I’m grateful for them every day.

  Well, shit. I really don’t want to find out she’s an incredible human being in addition to being rich, beautiful and talented.

  She glances at me and writes, You’re a way better bodyguard than Anton.

  That annoys the fuck out of me, because I don’t know shit about being a bodyguard, and Anton definitely should. “How so?”

  She just shrugs and looks down at her notebook. I think it’s the end of the convo until she writes, He works for Hugh.

  Fucking Hugh.

  “Right. Well, you work for me, songbird, so I’m just protecting what’s mine.” It’s an asshole thing to say, but I can’t very well go making friends with her, can I?

  She mimes picking her nose with her middle finger and puts her ear buds in, an act I should not find so cute.

  Good. Mission accomplished. Now if I can just keep my hands off her for the rest of the trip.

  Pepper

  Tony’s phone rings while we’re boarding the plane. “Hey, Ma. How’s it going?”

  He gives me the window seat and settles beside me. I don’t know why it’s hilarious to me that a mafia enforcer is taking a call from his mom, but it is.

  “Actually, I’m on a plane, about to head to L.A. Yeah, for work… uh huh…” He glances over me, looking slightly sheepish. “Ma, you know that singer you like? Pepper Heart? Yeah, the Never Again song. Well, she’s singing at the Bellissimo this month. Yeah. I’ll fly you out, you can watch her show. I’ll give you special seats, away from the crowd. Waddya say?” He listens for a moment and rubs his face. “So what? You don’t need Tad to go, Ma. I’ll go to the concert with you.”

  Yeah, this is what makes it funny. Because this big and terrifying guy still answers to his mom, still turns into a pleading child. It’s downright sweet, actually.

  “Ma, if you’re scared to fly, I’ll come and get you.” He throws up an impatient hand, Italian style. “Who cares if Tad has to cook his own dinners? That stronzo will get by—” Tony heaves a giant sigh. “Fine. Fine. Forget about it. I just want you to get out and do something you enjoy for a change. Get away from—” He rubs his jaw. It’s only noon, but he’s already showing signs of a five o’clock shadow. “All right, all right. Yeah, I love you, too. Bye, Ma.” He ends the call with a scowl just as the plane starts to taxi.

  I borrow his phone and take a selfie of the two of us with it, then open to his recent calls and copy the number to text. I send it to his mom with the words, Hi, from Pepper Heart. Hope to see you at my show!

  Tony takes the phone back, looks at the message, and stares at me. I’ve turned back to the notebook, which I’m doodling with lyrics and overheard words and phrases. I feel the heat of his gaze.

  “Hey, songbird.”

  I glance up without lifting my head, like I can’t be bothered.

  He leans down to meet my eyes. “Thank you. That was damn sweet of you.” He keeps staring at me, like he wants to say more.

  I can’t read his gaze, which unnerves me, because I usually know exactly what’s up with people. I swallow and he drops his focus to my notebook, like he’s waiting for me to write something.

  We both stare at the tip of my pen, the paper expanding beneath it. I write, I touched myself last night.

  Tony inhales sharply. His hand slides across the back of my neck and up into my hair. Then his fingers curl slowly and he tugs, pulling my head back against the seat. “You’re just dying to feel my authority, aren’t you, baby?” His lips hover over my ear, the deep notes of his voice reverberating through my body.

  I close my eyes, part my lips. Melt into the scene.

  “Tell me, songbird, did you come?”

  My eyes flutter open and I grip the pen. Yes, but it didn’t satisfy me. My heart pounds in anticipation. I know what I’m inviting. I definitely know I’m playing with fire here. But it’s the first time I’ve been interested in anything in so long. How can I let this moment pass? This opportunity to actually live for once?

  “You need me to finish what I started?”

  I nod unsteadily.

  His grip tightens in my hair, little pinpricks of pain heightening my excitement. “Put your hand between your legs.”

  My gaze shoots to his. Is he serious? Here? Now?

  He drops my tray table to obscure the view and arches a stern brow.

  I pick up my courier bag and plop it on my lap, then slide my hand under the canvas to cup my mons.

  Tony’s hand still controls my head, scrunching up my hair in the back. He catches sight of the tiny heart I have tattooed at the base of my skull and groans. Leaning over, he flicks it with his tongue. “That’s so pretty, songbird.” He uses his thumb to lightly stroke the shell of my ear. “Inside your panties now,” he murmurs.

  I stop breathing for a moment, but a whisper in my head says, do it. Live a little.

  I slide my fingers under the gusset of my panties. I’m wet, and touching myself nearly makes me moan. It’s suddenly way too hot in the airplane cabin.

  “Now rub that little clitty. Rub it like it’s Aladdin’s lamp.”

  My face goes slack and I slouch in my seat, the pad of my index finger moving over my little button.

  “Tap it now. Give it a little spank. That’s what I’m going to do as soon as we get off this plane.”

  My chest lifts and falls like the heaving bosom of every heroine in a Regency romance as I obey him, tapping my clit with as much force as I can get without lifting my whole hand.

  “Now dip a finger inside that pussy and give me a taste.”

  Oh lordy. My face heats and I don’t move for a moment. I’m not sure I can do this.

  Tony tugs my hair. “Now, songbird.”

  Screw it. I dip a finger in. Lord, I’m wet. The moment my finger enters, my pussy lubricates, making everything slippery and smooth. Delicious. I don’t consider myself a sexual person. My one foray into a sexual relationship was awkward, at best. But right now I’ve never felt like such a sexual being. Like a hedonist, wanting to explore every pleasure possible for my body. I love having a witness, a coach. No, a boss.

  Tony’s hand closes around my wrist. “Let me taste.” His gravelly voice almost sounds pained. I remove my finger and let him pull it to his mouth. He gives it a long suck, causing my pussy to squeeze and lift with each sweep of his tongue.

  If my voice were capable of sound, I would’ve let out a mewl—the air definitely comes out that way.

  He holds my gaze. “Even more delicious than I expected.”

  A shiver of pleasure runs through me.

  He takes another suck and gives my hand back. “No more touching. Not until I’ve had my mouth on that pussy and hear you scream.”

  A mini-orgasm rolls through me. I’m all trembly and horny and ready to go off, and we still have forty minutes until we land.

  Tony leans his head toward me. “I take that back. No screaming for you, songbird. That would be a bad idea.”

  I can’t help but laugh, lifting my face to his. He’s smiling, his eyes warm and crinkled.

  “You’ll just have to”—he waves his hands in the air as if to help him think—“clap for me.”

  I giggle and he chuckles, too.

  I look away. It’s one thing to have crazy hate sex with this guy, but I definitely don’t want to start liking him. Not when he’s the asshole putting a choke-hold on me and my family.

  We’re the first ones of
f the plane and Tony moves through the airport with long strides. I decide he wasn’t serious about spanking my pussy. It was part of his torture of getting me excited and then telling me no. Another punishment.

  But then he makes a sharp turn and tugs me toward a restroom. A stand-alone family restroom.

  Thank the lord.

  The second we’re inside and the door is locked, he pins me to the wall, my wrists pinioned under his meaty palm, his other hand stroking between my legs. His lips crash down with a kiss.

  It’s a hard, demanding kiss, the kind that leaves you breathless. The kind that I thought only happened in those movies where the characters are tearing each other’s clothes off. And yeah, that’s what I want to do. I run my hands over Tony’s hard body, exploring the hard lines of his washboard abs, his thick cock straining under his pants.

  He drops to his knees, apparently not caring about his nice trousers getting dirty, and tears my panties off. With one hand pressing my middle against the wall, and one holding my knee up, he dives in, shocking me with his tongue.

  He clearly knows exactly what he’s doing. The guy licks me from anus to clit without hesitation. I squirm against the wall, silent squeaks coming from my throat. He slides two fingers in me, stretching my pussy as he flicks his tongue over my clit.

  “Jesus, you’re tight, baby.”

  “Yeah,” I pant.

  He shoves his fingers in and out, hard. “No talking.” His tone is deep and hard.

  I throw my head back, my standing leg buckling.

  It doesn’t matter; he holds me up, fucking me with two fingers, sucking my clit. When he changes position to put his thumb in my pussy and a finger on my anus, I shriek.

  “Uh uh. No sounds. Hold your breath and I’ll make you come.” His wicked fingers keep working every erogenous zone, massaging my anus, pumping in and out of my pussy.

  I do as he says and hold my breath.

  He’s right. The deprivation of oxygen brings me right to the brink and then hurtling over the edge. I keep holding my breath through the orgasm that makes my entire body convulse with pleasure, not dragging in a long, desperate breath until I’m on the other end of it.

  And then I nearly pass out.

  When the room stops spinning, I find myself pinned against the tile by Tony’s large body. I cling to his shirt, panting.

  “Fuck, Pepper. You have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

  I scoff and shove him away enough to drop down to my knees. I definitely owe him one.

  He unbuckles his belt and opens his pants. His cock springs out, already erect. I open my mouth and lick around the head, then take him deeper.

  He grabs my hair. “Wait, wait, wait.” He pulls his cock out of my mouth. “I don’t want to fuck with your throat, songbird.”

  I’m actually… shocked.

  What man cares more about a girl’s throat than getting head? Even if that girl is supposed to make him nine hundred grand with her voice.

  He grasps my upper arms and pulls me up to stand, then spins me around and bends me over the sink counter. Smack. His palm greets ass before he shoves my dress up to my waist. I turn around to make sure he has a condom, and he does; he’s ripping it open with his teeth.

  For a moment, I have that queasy panic I get before sex, like I need to fight but can’t, and it scares me, but then he wraps his huge hand around my throat, caging it loosely and meets my gaze in the mirror. Instantly, I’m captivated by the moment, turned to putty in his hands.

  “You like to pretend this is payment due, right, beautiful?” His lips are at my temple.

  My brain stutters on his assertion, but my ass pushes back, heat pouring through my pelvis.

  His grin is feral as he rubs the head of his cock against my entrance. “I’ll play that game.” He pushes into me and I gasp at the stretch. “But we both know you’re the beggar here.” He eases in. “Madonna, you’re tight.” He goes still, seeking my gaze in the mirror again. “Please tell me you’re not a virgin.”

  I laugh and shake my head.

  “Thank fuck.” He draws back and pushes in again, filling, filling, filling me. It’s delicious. There’s no ickiness, no fear. Only pleasure, and the desire for more.

  And he gives me more.

  Because Tony Brando doesn’t hold back. And he’s a dirty mofo, too. As soon as he’s plowed me open, he’s working his thumb into my ass, using saliva to screw it in.

  The sensation shocks me. It’s naughty and wrong and feels so good. He holds me captive with the thumb in my ass—ensures I’ll brace myself against the counter and hold still as he delivers thrust after punishing thrust.

  “Is this how you pictured it, baby? You wanted me to give it you in the ass?”

  I shake my head, then nod, then whimper.

  He reaches around and pinches my nipple, shoving his hand down the front of my dress and into my bra. “Let go, baby.”

  I don’t know what he means, except to turn off my brain, to stop trying to figure out what all this means about me.

  “Take it,” he growls. “Take it, little songbird.”

  I moan, a real sound, and he fucks me harder, faster. My hips bump painfully against the counter, but he must notice, because he shifts to wrap his arm around my waist, protecting me.

  “I’m coming,” he announces, and my body must take it as a cause for celebration, because I come, too. The moment he shoves in deep and stays, my muscles squeeze and milk his cock, ripples of release flowing down my inner thighs and the backs of my legs.

  Tony curses softly in Italian and eases out, disposing of the condom and washing his hands. I don’t move—mostly because I don’t think my legs will hold me. Brando moistens a paper towel and cleans me, which is both embarrassing and sweet. He retrieves my soaked panties from the floor and helps me step into them, sliding them up and arriving with his hands on my ass.

  He steals a kiss, like he’s sampling my taste, then rubs his lips together. “Mmm. You okay?”

  I nod.

  “Can you walk?”

  I laugh and nod. Is it normal to not be able to walk after sex? Apparently with Tony Brando it is.

  Chapter 5

  Tony

  My mom calls back as we pull into the doctor’s parking lot. I grin. She must’ve gotten Pepper’s text. “Hi, Ma. Tell me you’re coming.”

  “Tony, is this really Pepper Heart with you?”

  “Yep, it’s really her. I’m, ah, kinda managing her show at the Bellissimo.” I steal a glance at Pepper, who rolls her eyes.

  “She looks very nice.” My mother lives in a very small world. It pretty much kills me. She lives in a small house in Oak Park with her lame-ass husband, Tad, a boring, close-minded engineer. She won’t let me buy her a nicer house. She doesn’t leave her place because she doesn’t work and doesn’t know how to drive.

  I flick my gaze at Pepper again, who is not even pretending not to eavesdrop. “She is very nice. Do you wanna meet her? Why don’t you come for a visit?”

  I’ve been living in Vegas for ten years now and still haven’t convinced my mom to come. I want her to see the Bellissimo, see what I do. I’m pretty sure she still thinks I’m the neighborhood thug, bloodying faces for Don Tacone.

  More than anything, though, I want her to get out and enjoy herself. Live a little. Tad is a miserable piece of shit, and I would kick his ass to the curb if I thought I could get away with it. But my mom would never forgive me.

  She still hasn’t forgiven me for what I did to my dad.

  “No, Tony. You know I don’t like to travel. But you tell her I’m a fan. Send me an autograph, okay?”

  “Sure, Ma. I’ll get you an autograph.”

  “I love you, Tony.”

  “Love you, Ma.”

  I hang up and shake my head. It fucking kills me to not to be able to make her happy. Some people refused to be saved.

  But fuck if I don’t have to keep trying.

  I get out of the rental car and Peppe
r follows.

  Angela, my director of events, researched all the laryngologists and found out Doctor Shen is the one who works on all the stars. We figured she must be the best, so I told Angela to do anything she had to do to get us in.

  Turns out, dropping Pepper’s name was enough.

  But when they take Pepper back into an examination room, I’m antsier than a caged lion. I can’t demand to be let back in with her, nor can I insist on the doctor speaking to me about what’s going on. Fortunately, she comes out to the lobby. “Are you her manager?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Pepper raises her eyebrows at me, but doesn’t say different.

  “So I see quite a bit of swelling of her vocal chords, most likely from overuse, as well as a cold she had a month ago. I do want to get an MRI run this afternoon to rule out polyps or cysts, but if I find nothing, my prescription is total vocal rest—no speaking, no singing. For at least a week, maybe two. I understand she’s in the middle of a tour, but if she doesn’t rest, she runs the risk of permanent damage.”

  “I understand, Doctor Shen, thank you.”

  “I also recommend seeing an acupuncturist. I can give you a referral to several in L.A., if you want.”

  “Eh, we’re going to be in Vegas, but I’ll look for someone there. Thanks again. I really appreciate you getting her in on short notice today. I know you had to rearrange your schedule.”

  “No, it’s my pleasure. My daughter is a big fan.” She grins and waves her cell phone, where a selfie of her and Pepper graces the front. “She would’ve killed me if I missed the chance to see Ms. Heart.”

  Pepper winks behind her. I shake my head. She’s so damn accommodating to her fans. There’s a generosity and general sweetness to her I didn’t expect. It makes me even more determined to protect her from all those who want to use her—from her manager/producer. From the Tacones.

  From me.

  Too bad that’s not going to be possible. Especially with what I have to do this afternoon.