King of Diamonds: A Dark Mafia Romance (Vegas Underground Book 1)

by Renee Rose

  “Goddamn that’s a beautiful sight.”

  She turns her head to the side to look at me and her gaze is almost shy—so shockingly vulnerable it makes my heart squeeze. I grab both the pillows from the bed and lift her hips. “Put these under you, angel and spread your sexy thighs.”

  I crawl up between her legs and pull her asscheeks apart. Lick a long line from her clit to her anus.

  She mewls and shivers. I repeat the action, then give one cheek a smack. Her ass is still pink from the spanking I gave her, which shouldn’t turn me on so much, but it does. I want to give her everything she needs. Make this the best possible intro to anal. I lube up her ass and my finger and start slow, massaging over her anus, penetrating her and working the tight ring of muscles open. I talk to her the whole time, soothing her, praising her. “That’s it, baby. Open for me. Relax and let me in. Good girl.”

  When I work up to pumping my finger in her, she whimpers and slides a hand between her legs to rub her clit.

  “That’s it, angel. Take what you need. I’m going to fuck this sexy ass of yours now.” I put on a condom and lube the hell out of it, then press the head of my cock at her entrance. “Take a deep breath.”

  Her back and ribs widen as she draws in her breath.

  “Now exhale.”

  When she obeys, I ease in, feeding my length, inch by inch.

  Her moan raises in pitch, but she doesn’t tighten against me, doesn’t resist. “Good girl. Take my big cock in your ass. This is what happens when you’ve been a naughty girl.”

  She moans louder, a wanton sound that I take as a green light. I fill her, all the way to the hilt, then ease back and fuck her again.

  “Nico,” she pants. “Oh my God.”

  “I know, baby. You’re getting your ass fucked by the man who owns you.” I know I’m an asshole, but I have to possess this woman, to own her, keep her, claim and dominate her. Especially after she made me watch her flirt with those fuckers downstairs.

  I pound her ass, thoroughly fuck her until her cries take on a high pitched, panicked sound. “Please,” she begs. “Please, oh please, oh please.”

  I already came once, so I could go on forever, but I know she’s desperate to climax. I close my eyes and let the pleasure surge through me. My balls tighten up. I lower my hips to rest on her ass and rock in and out while I work my hand under her hips. Her fingers are frantic between her legs, but I knock them out of the way and sink three of mine into her wet channel. She’s sopping—as juicy as I’ve ever felt a woman—and so swollen and slick.

  “I’m going to come in your ass, baby, and when I tell you it’s time, you’re going to come all over my fingers. Capiche?”

  “Yes! Please, Nico,” she sobs.

  The urgency of her need sends me over the cliff. My hips snap and I fuck her a few more times before I come again.

  “Now, baby.”

  Her entire body convulses, pussy fluttering around my fingers, anus tightening almost painfully around my cock. It must hurt her, too, because she cries out and her muscles go slack, surrendering once more.

  “That’s it, baby. Good girl.” I kiss her neck. “You took it so well. Did you like your first ass-fucking?”

  She doesn’t answer and a little ball of dread starts building in my solar plexus. I ease out of her and throw the condom in the trash by the bed. “I’ll be right back,” I murmur and quickly wash my hands in the bathroom. The urgency to return to her is almost overwhelming.

  She hasn’t moved since I left her, she’s still collapsed over the pillows, her ravished ass on display.

  “Look at me, piccolina.” I roll her over.

  She doesn’t seem to want me to see her face, because she lunges up for me, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.

  I hold her tight, petting her hair, kissing her temple. “Tell me you’re okay, baby.”

  She nods against my neck. “I’m okay.” Her voice is ragged.

  “I need to see you.”

  Her arms tighten around my neck.

  “Angel.” I lower her back to the bed and roll to my side so we’re facing one another. “Look at me.”

  She gradually releases her grip on my neck.

  I cradle her face in one palm, run my thumb over her cheekbone. “I love you, Sondra.”

  I didn’t mean to say it. I had no idea those words were going to come out of my mouth. But they’re true. They’re real. They’re the best honesty I’ve ever known.

  Her eyes fly wide and she studies me, like she’s looking for some sign I mean it. Like she’s afraid to believe me.

  I feel the brakes slamming in my own chest. I’m leading her on. I’m not even available for this woman, but it’s too late. I’ve said it, and I’m not taking it back.

  “Don’t say it back,” I tell her. “I know it doesn’t change things. It’s just what came out when I saw your angelic face.”

  “So you’re not still mad?”

  I chuckle. “Not even close to mad, baby. I got over being mad the second you stood up and took your panties off for me. And that was before you gave me the best blowjob of my life.” I brush her mussed hair out of her face. “Baby, I’m just sorry I lost my temper with you. And I’m sorry about that spanking—at least the first one. It wasn’t for you, it was for me, and that’s not cool.”

  She studies me, her eyes intelligent. I swear she sees right into my soul and doesn’t judge. I don’t know how that’s possible. “I liked it.”

  I smile as my chest constricts. “I know you did. And I keep telling myself that makes it okay. But I’m not sure it does.”

  She covers my hand on her cheek with her palm. “Your concern makes it okay.”

  I shudder under her touch. “I don’t know why you trust me so well, baby. I don’t deserve it.”

  She purses her lips. “No, you don’t.”

  I fight a smile, glad she’s taking me to task. “Baby, I know I’ve been neglecting you and that’s why you were trying to get a rise out of me. I called my younger brother and asked him to move here to help me run this shit so I can give you the attention you deserve. But please don’t mess around with other guys because I will come unglued and the asshole you touch will end up with his balls shoved up his ass. Capiche?”

  She shivers slightly. “I’m sorry.”

  I already know she is, and I wasn’t trying to make her say it again. I put my finger on her lips. “Listen, I’m going to make it up to you. I have to go back out there now, but I’m gonna clear my schedule for you tomorrow. I want you to pack a bag and be ready for me by 10 a.m. We’re going to take a trip.”

  The flickering hope in her eyes scares the shit out of me. Not because I’m not going to do everything I fucking can to make sure I deliver whatever it is she needs from me, but because I want to be the man who delivers it permanently. And that’s a fucking impossibility.

  Chapter 12

  Sondra

  “Everyone’s trying to figure out who you are,” I murmur to Nico. We’re sitting in the cafe of the Met, drinking espresso to revive ourselves from our long day of walking through the art museum. Yes, he flew me on a private jet to New York City this morning and demanded I show him all the best the Met had to offer. Considering it’s my first trip to New York, let alone the Met, my bucket is beyond full.

  Nico’s as handsome as ever in one of his fine suits and he looks like some kind of celebrity amongst the tourists. He arches a brow. “Me? No, amore. They’re looking at you. I heard one couple whispering that you’re a famous actress.” He picks up my hand and runs his thumb over my fingers.

  If I’d worried that Nico and I would have nothing to talk about if we actually had time to spend together, I was wrong. He told me all about growing up in Chicago—the things he misses from the city, the things he doesn’t. How and why he ended up in Vegas.

  I told him about Michigan, growing up across the street from Corey. How she became like a sister to me.

  He rubs his stubbled jaw. “Here’
s the thing I keep wondering, Sondra.”

  “What?”

  “How a woman as beautiful as you ended up in Reno with that lowlife bartender. It doesn’t make sense. Why aren’t you already married to some smart, nice intellectual who can talk about art and shit with you?”

  I try to cover how much the question wounds me. Isn’t it the same one I’ve asked myself three dozen times?

  I draw in a breath. “Well. I guess I had a smart, nice intellectual for a boyfriend when I was getting my Masters. He cheated on me with my best friend. Tanner—”

  “Don’t say his name.” Nico closes his eyes like I’m greatly testing his patience.

  “—he wasn’t the first to cheat on me. And John wasn’t even the first. Before that, my boyfriend in high school hooked up with a girl while camped out in line for concert tickets to Coldplay.”

  Nico whistles. “That’s a bad pattern.”

  “Yeah. I have terrible taste—” I break off too late. Nico’s expression darkens.

  I clear my throat. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  “No, you’re right,” he says. “I don’t cheat. You don’t need to worry about that. But I’m all wrong for you. Definitely wrong.”

  The knife that’s been in my chest since the day I met him twists and I lose my breath.

  “Stop saying that.” I should appreciate that he recognizes what a bad match we are, but I don’t. I resent the hell out of it. Because every time feels like another rejection. It’s just that this one isn’t for another woman, it’s for his job.

  His life.

  And I know he probably can’t help it. He is who he is.

  Nico sits taller, watching me intently. “Why, cucciola mia? We both know it’s true.”

  My eyes fill with tears and I lunge up out of my chair. He catches my hand and pulls me to his lap, oblivious to everyone in the crowded cafe. His strong arms band around me. “I wish I could be someone else for you. I want to be. But I can’t. I have family obligations you cannot fathom. I don’t see how I’ll ever be free of who and what I am.”

  I give up the struggle and collapse back against him. He’s not saying he doesn’t want me. I’m finally hearing the words for what they are. He’s being realistic. Telling me he’s a Tacone.

  So the question is—can I live with all that means?

  Nico

  We get back to the casino the next morning. I would’ve liked to stay longer, but until Stefano arrives, I can’t leave the operation unmanned for long.

  Sondra sucked my dick on the plane ride home, which made me feel like a fucking king.

  I’m happy, maybe for the first time in my life. Not just satisfied. Not proud of some accomplishment, not drunk on power, but genuinely happy. Sondra’s telling me all her plans for the casino redecoration, which is pure genius. She’s figured out ways to use much of what’s already in the Bellissimo, just rearranging it and categorizing things to fit into different Italian art movements and styles.

  I escort her into the Bellissimo at the same time I hear Tony, who picked us up from the private airport, utter a low curse.

  There, making a beeline straight for us, is a gorgeous leggy brunette.

  Jenna Pachino.

  “I’ll handle this,” Tony says. But I can’t snub her. To do so could start a war. I’m in a tricky fucking situation and any wrong word could cause things to implode.

  Cristo, Madonna e Dio, why didn’t I deal with this situation sooner? Put more thought into the problem? Apply a little finesse? Now I’m about to fuck everything up.

  “Jenna.” I try to keep the stiffness out of my tone. I take her shoulders and we do the two-cheek kiss.

  Sondra’s gone rigid beside me.

  Of course, this is her sore spot.

  I put my hand on her back to reassure her, but Jenna’s eyes track to it. Christ, I don’t want her telling her dad I disrespected her.

  I am so fucked.

  Tony steps in to distract and they cheek-kiss.

  “Tony, will you get Jenna anything she needs and take her up to my office?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “I’ll be right up.”

  Jenna’s gaze trails to Sondra. I haven’t made the introduction. What in the fuck am I going to say? There’s seriously nothing I can say that won’t permanently fuck me over with one or both of them.

  She doesn’t look suspicious—more curious—but the undercurrent of tension is so thick between us, it’s a wonder we can see through it.

  Tony puts a hand on Jenna’s lower back and escorts her away and I blow out my breath.

  Sondra’s turned pale, her expression flat.

  “She’s the daughter of another don in Chicago,” I say as soon as she’s out of earshot. “I don’t know what she wants, but I have to meet with her. I will keep it brief.”

  Alarm flashes over Sondra’s face and I know I’ve said the exact wrong thing.

  For the life of me, though, I can’t figure out how to dissipate this burgeoning disaster.

  “Sondra?” I tuck a knuckle under her chin.

  She jerks away.

  “No.” I make my voice firm. I have no idea why I chose to go hard with her, instead of coaxing, but it seems to work. She obeys the authority in my voice and turns back. I shake my head. “You think I’m fucking that girl, don’t you?”

  Her head wobbles on her neck. “Are you?” The tremor in her voice kills me.

  “I’ve never touched her. Ever. Do you trust me?”

  I hold my breath. Of course she doesn’t fucking trust me. If she did, she wouldn’t look like I just killed her kitten.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know, Nico. I have a bad history with this.”

  “I know.” I step into her space and grip her shoulders, showing how serious I am with the intensity of my gaze. “That’s why I froze when she ambushed us. I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

  I see her waver. I’m making headway.

  “Please trust me. I’m going to find out what she wants and get rid of her. I will not cheat on you. Ever. Can you believe that?”

  Her lips tremble slightly, but she lifts her chin. “I want to. I just don’t know.”

  I nod. That’s probably as good as I’m going to get.

  “I will prove it to you. Just give me a chance, okay, baby? I can’t lose you now. I can’t.” I try to show her one small fraction of the vulnerability she offers me.

  Her eyelashes flutter and she nods. I cup her face and kiss her—the most gentle kiss I’ve laid on her. It’s as sweet as a promise. As sacred as a blessing.

  She doesn’t return it at first, but then she softens, moves her lips against mine. I stroke her hair. “Will you be in your suite?”

  She nods.

  “I’ll find you there.”

  I kiss her again and leave.

  Fuck. Now if only I can manage not to start a war over Jenna Pachino.

  Jenna

  My mother wanted to come with me. My father wanted to send Alex as a bodyguard, but I refused. Being sent to visit my fiancé accompanied by the only man who’s ever made my heart beat faster would make a difficult situation impossible.

  I have a plan and after what I just saw down in the lobby, I think it just might work.

  The trouble is, I don’t know Nico Tacone at all. I’ve seen him at family parties, weddings and funerals, but I avoided him like the plague.

  And he seemed to avoid me right back.

  At least that’s what I’m banking on.

  So I sit in a plush chair outside his office with his pitbull Tony standing bodyguard at the door and try to get my heart out of my throat.

  He doesn’t make me wait long. Tacone arrives and holds the door open for me, the picture of gentlemanly manners.

  I wipe my hands on my black jean skirt and enter.

  “I heard you graduated,” Tacone says politely. “Congratulations.” He waves me into a chair across from his desk and takes a seat.

 
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Thank you.” My hands tangle in my lap. My lips feel too dry. “My father says it’s time for us to marry,” I blurt.

  Tacone’s face remains blank, but I swear I see a muscle jump in his cheek.

  “Are you—” I suck in a breath. “Are you prepared to marry me?”

  Shoot. That was the wrong thing to say. Now I put him on the spot. He can’t say no without offending my family.

  He blinks at me. “Jenna—”

  “Wait,” I cut in. “I don’t want to know the answer to that question. What I want to say, is…”

  He’s staring at me with polite brown eyes. There’s really nothing wrong with this man. He seems quite nice. He’s beyond rich. Definitely good-looking.

  I should want to marry him. Especially considering how much it means to my father.

  But I’m a bad daughter.

  I want what I can’t have—Alex.

  “Would you consider releasing me from the contract?”

  Tacone’s brows shoot up to his hairline. “Yes.” The word bursts out of him. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I imagine I hear the relief of twenty years of the same anxiety I’ve felt.

  “I-I don’t want to marry you. No offense.”

  His lips quirk. “None taken. Does your father know you’re here?”

  My shoulders sag. “Yes, but he sent me to pin you down on dates. He still wants us to go through with it.”

  Tacone drags a hand through his thick hair. “I haven’t spoken to mine, either. I probably need to fly out and have a face to face with him. Make sure I can smooth it over. Giuseppe won’t budge?”

  I gnaw on my lip. “No, but maybe if he knew your family was canceling—”

  Tacone sighs, defeat creeping into his expression. Yeah. We’re right back to where we were as children, with our parents’ contract firm, and our opinions inconsequential.

  I suck in a breath, my heart hammering at what I’m about to say. “I could disappear for a while. I mean, I want to disappear. I’ll send a letter saying I’m not going through with it. Send it to both our fathers and you. And then disappear. No one is to blame but me.”