His Queen of Clubs

by Rose, Renee

  And seeing her like that pushes me over the edge. I shift to white-knuckle the headboard and pump in hard, each thrust a punctuation mark on my promise to her.

  I am yours.

  Anything you ask of me.

  The answer is yes.

  She opens her mouth, thrusts her breasts toward the ceiling.

  My balls draw up tight, thighs shake. She braces her hands against the headboard, crying out with each thrust.

  “I’m not going to last,” I grit.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  I reach nirvana the split second before I come. Alessia follows, hooking her legs around my back and pulling me in deeper, the tight muscles of her pussy pulsing through our release.

  “Vlad?” she asks, breathless, arms twining around my neck.

  “What is it, printsessa?”

  “Are we still married?”

  I lean on my forearms and nip at her lips. “Yes.” I couldn’t bring myself to dissolve the marriage, even though I knew it was the right thing to do.

  “What happens when you grow tired of me?”

  My heart squeezes. Did it bother her when I said that? “That’s an impossibility,” I tell her. “A lie I told to convince myself I could let you go.”

  She squirms under me, encouraging me to keep up the slow post-orgasm fucking. “I want a second wedding. An American wedding, with my family.”

  I go still and she shifts to take me deeper. I have to swallow back the lump in my throat. “You want to marry me?”

  “Again. Yes.”

  I cover her face with kisses, humbled by how easily she surrenders her heart. Her life.

  To me.

  “Whatever you want, zaika. It’s yours. Believe it.”

  “Mmm,” she hums softly, pulling me into her so I have to roll us both to the side to keep from crushing her. “I want to hold your baby.”

  I lean up on an elbow and smile. “Our baby… if you want. Will you adopt her?”

  She blinks back tears. “I’d like that. Will you adopt Mika?”

  “Yes. I already had papers drawn up for it, but I was waiting for the right moment to talk to him.”

  “Let’s go tell him now.” She pushes up to sit and scrambles off the bed. “He’s the one who tricked me into coming here.”

  I didn’t want to leave the sanctity of our bed, but seeing her enthusiasm is enough to motivate me.

  It won’t just be about the two of us. We’ll be a family, and there’s a sanctity to that, too.

  Something Alessia’s experienced but I never have. Something I want to give my children.

  Chapter 21

  Alessia

  Vlad folds me over the side of the bed and smacks my ass. I’ve spent three wonderful days in Volgograd spending time with Mika, playing with the baby and lying in bed with Vlad. Oh and petting kitties. He kept all five of them, and they roam around the mansion like they own the place.

  Tonight, though, he’s not quite as reverential.

  A little bossy.

  The alpha male is showing.

  Good thing I like it.

  “Ow, what’s that for?”

  “That, printsessa, is for not taking your insulin in Moscow.” He smacks my ass again. “You didn’t think you’d avoid punishment, did you?”

  “Isn’t there a statute of limitations on it or something? That was three months ago.”

  He picks up my hands and pins them to my low back. Then he delivers a flurry of hard spanks. I gasp at the sting.

  “What did I tell you would happen if you took risks with your health again?”

  “You said if I left the house without insulin,” I correct. “I didn’t.”

  He delivers three hard smacks, all in the same place. “So you do remember?”

  Oh, I remember. He told me he’d fuck my ass raw.

  The thought both thrills and terrifies me.

  “I remember.” My voice sounds small.

  One of his digits slides between my ass cheeks and massages my back hole. “When I make a promise of retribution, I deliver.”

  A shiver runs up my spine.

  I know too well that it’s true.

  “Spread your legs wider.”

  I obey.

  He spanks between my legs, getting me wet and swollen and halfway desperate. Just when I’m about to come, he shifts and starts spanking my ass again.

  “No,” I moan. “Please, Vlad.”

  “Please what, printsessa?”

  I can’t say it.

  “Tell me what’s going to happen.”

  “You’re going to f-fuck me,” I manage. He’s rubbing my clit now, making me dance under his firm touch.

  “Where am I going to fuck you?”

  “Please, Vlad,” I try again.

  He slaps my ass. “Where am I going to fuck you?”

  “In my ass!” I can’t believe it, but I’m actually growing needy for it. Like I can’t wait for him to get started.

  “That’s right,” he purrs. “Don’t move, zaika.” He walks away and returns with a bottle of lubricant, which he dribbles over my fluttering anus.

  My breath is short, body flushes all over with heat.

  When he nudges my anus with the head of his cock, I moan.

  “Open for it, Alessia.”

  I don’t know what that means, but he applies steady pressure.

  “Deep breath in.”

  I obey.

  “Exhale.”

  He pushes in on the exhale and I squeeze at the stretching sensation.

  “Relax, zaika. Breathe.” He doesn’t move for a moment, then eases in a little more, until he’s past the head. And then he’s fully seated, filling me, prying me wide.

  It’s hot and humiliating and feels way better than it should. There’s a little pain, yes, but also pleasure. Embarrassing pleasure.

  He goes slow, sliding in and out as I moan and whimper. It’s intense. So intense.

  He pushes in and stays there as he reaches around and insinuates one hand under my hips. The moment he rubs my clit, pleasure blooms. Still pressing on it, he resumes his plunder, claiming my ass the way he’s claimed all the rest of me.

  I get louder, both wanting him to go on and retreat at the same time.

  He goes on, picking up speed.

  My pleasure grows, almost eclipsing the discomfort.

  “Yes,” I croak. “More. Please, Vlad.”

  “Beg, zaika.”

  “Please, please, please.” I’m helpless not to beg. I need to come. And I also want it to be over.

  He adds more lube and it gets better. Much better.

  “Yes,” I babble. “Please, Vlad.”

  “Please what?” He’s pumping faster, gripping my waist to hold me in place.

  “Please fuck me. Please let me come.”

  He groans and plows even harder, bumping my ass with his hips.

  We both cry out when he comes, burying himself deep and working his fingers over my clit.

  I come, too, only my muscles can’t squeeze because he’s stretching me wide. He shoves a few fingers in my pussy, which satisfies my craving for a big finish.

  And then he turns sweet again, kissing my back and my neck as we both catch our breaths.

  “I told you you’d beg,” he murmurs, lips against my ear.

  I laugh, because he’s right. He told me. I begged. And yet even when he’s on top, dominating me, punishing me, I always feel like the winner.

  Maybe that’s what love is all about.

  Epilogue

  Vlad

  I sit at our dining table watching the best view imaginable.

  Alessia and Lara splash in the pool, their afternoon ritual. Sondra and her new infant are in the pool, too, having a baby playdate. Junior and Desiree have even flown out from Chicago with their children a couple times to get the cousins together. The joyful sound of baby talk from both the babies and the mothers soothes me on a level I didn’t know required soothing.

  Mi
ka seems to feel the same way. He looks up occasionally from his studies to watch. Alessia tried to get him to go to school in Las Vegas, but he’s steadfastly refused, so he’s still homeschooled for now.

  She thinks he might change his mind by high school, but either way is okay. He’s a good kid. He takes out the trash for Zoya and plays with the baby. Yes, we moved the entire household here—Zoya, Yegor and the five cats.

  Alessia insisted, and she gets whatever she wants.

  She also wanted to give Mika a puppy for his birthday, so we have a sweet and slobbery Dalmatian underfoot as well. It was worth it to watch Mika’s heart open to his new best friend. Alessia climbs out of the pool, and I get up to meet her with a giant towel. Lara smiles and coos at me, waving her tiny fists in the air with joy. I help Alessia dry her off, then take her and give my wife a kiss. Alessia turns to help Sondra with Nico, Jr., her newborn, a big healthy boy full of vigor and life.

  The women get together for baby playdates at least once a week and my brothers-in-law have offered me a grudging respect. I’m sure they’d be quick to beat me to a pulp if I ever upset their sister, though.

  Victor let me leave Russia, but only because I promised I was diversifying our interests by pursuing the Tacone participation.

  Fortunately, Nico’s been willing to participate in my laundering scheme for tax savings, so it’s worked out. I still have the sense that the shoe may drop at some point. I never expected happiness. Never even pursued it. So now that I have something to live for, I’m fiercely protective of my wife and children. Which Alessia doesn’t seem to mind. She’s okay with bossy and controlling. Her body comes alive with my dominance.

  I just make sure to treat her like the princess she is and she gives me what I hold dearest—her heart.

  ***

  Turn the page to read an excerpt from the next book in the series, Dead Man’s Hand.

  I hope you enjoyed His Queen of Clubs. If you loved it, please consider reviewing it or recommending to a friend—your reviews help indie authors so much.

  Want more Vegas Underground? Read Nico and Sondra’s book King of Diamonds, Stefano and Corey’s book, Jack of Spades, Jenna and Alex’s short story, Mafia Daddy, Tony and Pepper’s book Ace of Hearts, Junior and Desiree’s story Joker’s Wild and sign up for my mailing list to get word of the release of Marissa and Gio’s book Dead Man’s Hand.

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  --Get text alerts of my new releases by Texting: EZLXP55001 to 474747

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  Want More?

  Please enjoy this excerpt from Dead Man’s Hand - Book Seven in the Vegas Underground Series

  Chapter One - Dead Man’s Hand

  Marissa

  Some things you can’t forget. You can’t unsee. Can’t unhear.

  Blood all over these floors. The sound of gunshots. The way my heart stopped when Junior Tacone pointed that gun at me, deciding whether to let me live or die.

  I hate this time of day when the customers thin out, business gets slow and I only have time to remember.

  It’s been six months since the battle between the Russian and Sicilian mafia went down in Caffe Milano and I’m still jumpy as hell. Still examining every customer who comes in, praying he’s not Russian mafia come for revenge. Or to shake me down for information on how to find the Tacones.

  But they haven’t come. No one ever came except the Tacones with their window repair guys and a large enough amount of money to upgrade our whole kitchen. Which was good because our walk-in cooler was inches away from dying and this place hasn’t had a remodel since my grandparents opened it in the 1940s.

  There once was a time when this deli was the cornerstone of Cicero. And in a way, it still is. Especially with the old-timers. But we don’t make the kind of money it takes to keep up with rent increases and modernizations. My grandparents were in a world of debt when I took over the business-end of things, and I’ve definitely improved the situation a lot, but there isn’t money to do the kinds of things I dream about doing here. And I have to work a second job just to pay my own bills.

  Of course I like that job much more than this one.

  Sometimes I almost wish the shooting had put Caffe Milano out of business. Ended my obligation to grind out this familial obligation.

  But that’s mean of me. My grandparents raised me and I owe them everything. This deli is their entire world and they’re getting too old to run it. Which means until they die, it will be my entire world, too.

  I pull a bowl of pasta salad from the deli case to put in the walk-in overnight. When I come back, I freeze.

  At first I think it’s Junior Tacone standing at my deli counter. I’m not afraid of him, exactly, but he’s the man who haunts my nightmares. He’s the guy who went gangster on my place and gunned down six guys. And who am I kidding, I am downright terrified of the man.

  It’s not Junior, though. It’s Gio Tacone, the one who took a bullet out on the sidewalk. The man I thought was dead.

  “Mr. Tacone!” I curse myself for sounding breathless.

  “Gio,” he corrects. “Marissa. How are you?”

  He knows my name!

  That’s more than I can say for Junior, the current head of the family. And I wish it didn’t do fluttery things to my insides, but it does. Gio rests a forearm on the counter and pins me with a hazel gaze.

  He is pure man-candy. With those chiseled good looks, he could easily have been an actor or model and he has the charming personality to match. I never heard if he made it. I checked the newspapers and Googled his name after the shooting, and there weren’t any reports of his death, but I saw him take a bullet with my own eyes.

  I tried to warn Junior, but it was too late. The ambush happened.

  And I’ve been sleepless with guilt ever since.

  “You’re alive. I mean, you made it. I’m so glad.” I wave my hand and sound like an idiot.

  Gio catches my wrist, stilling my hand in the air. My fingers tremble in the space between us. “Why are you shaking, baby girl? You scared of me?”

  “No!” I pull my hand away. “I’m just jumpy. You know—since… what happened. And you startled me.”

  His gaze penetrates, like he knows there’s more to it than that and he wants to know it all. A curious shifting happens in my chest.

  I tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear to cover my mounting discomfort.

  “You have nightmares?” He guesses, like he’s read my mind.

  I give a single nod. Then it occurs to me how he knows. “Do you?”

  I don’t expect him to admit it if he does. I come from an Italian family. I know the men don’t admit weakness.

  So I’m surprised when he says, “Fuck, yeah. All the time.” He touches the place where the bullet must’ve gone in.

  “Wow,” I say, like I’m surprised.

  He flashes a panty-melting grin. “What, you think real men don’t have nightmares?”

  “Maybe not the men in your line of work.”

  He arches a brow, suddenly the stern enforcer, and my heart starts to thump.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, I guess.”

  He gives a half-shrug, like he’s agreeing but letting it go. “I didn’t come here to ride your ass, I came to check in on you. Make sure you’re okay.” He blinks those dark curly lashes that would be feminine except for the manly square jaw and aquiline nose. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time.”

  The danger bell starts tolling in my head.

  Never accept a favor from the Tacones. You’ll pay for it for the rest of your life.

  That’s what my grandfather used to always lament. He’d borrowed from Santo Tacone’s father to start his business back in the forties and it took him sixty years to pay off. But pay it off he did, and he wa
s damn proud of it, too.

  “I’m fine. We’re fine. But I’d appreciate it if you’d hold your business meetings somewhere else in the future.” I don’t know what made me say it. You don’t piss off a mob boss by insulting him or making demands. I definitely could’ve found a nicer way to make my request.

  “Agreed. We didn’t expect trouble. Junior was real sorry about what happened to this place.”

  “Junior pointed a gun at my head.” I didn’t mean to say that, either, but the words tumble out and crash between us.

  “Junior would never hurt you.” He says it so immediately I know he believes it’s true. But he hadn’t seen what I saw. That moment of hesitation. The murmuring of his man beside him that I’m a witness.

  He thought about killing me.

  And then decided not to.

  He catches my hand again and holds it, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “That’s why you’re jumpy, huh? I’m sorry you got scared, but I promise you, you’re safe. This place is under our protection.”

  “Maybe it would be better if it wasn’t. You know, if you just left us alone.”

  If I didn’t know better, I would say my words hurt Gio rather than pissing him off. But he just shrugs. “Sorry, baby girl. You can’t get rid of us. And you’re on my watch now. Which means you’re perfectly safe.”

  I want to tell him I’m not his baby girl and he can take his protection and fuck off, but I’m not insane. Also, some traitorous part of me wants him to keep stroking my hand, keep studying me like I’m the most interesting person he’s seen all day.

  But I know all that’s a lie.

  Gio’s a player. And my body’s response to his presence is dangerous.

  Gio abandons my hand in favor of cupping my chin. “You’re mad. I get it. I’ll let you show me a little claw today. But we paid restitution to your family and will honor our commitments to this neighborhood and to Caffe Milano.”

  His touch is commanding and firm, but still gentle. It makes the flutters in my belly grow more wild.

  “Gio,” I murmur, turning my face away from him and out of his hand. My nipples are hard, rubbing against the inside of my bra.