by Sassie Lewis
That had Blake sitting upright. “You don’t think they were an actual club?”
The grin on Zane’s face said Blake was on the right page.
“It wasn’t until I showed up here that I put two-and-two together. Quin is our Prez, it doesn’t matter where we are or who we’re talking to that’s what we call him. Yeah, occasionally we’ll call him boss, but that’s more to take the piss, ‘cause he’s acting all bossy. Boris here is the Don, but I’ve heard none of his guys call him that, they call him The Boss.”
“Don would be correct if we were Italian.” Boris glared at Zane, and Blake bit back a smile. “As Russian, Pakhan would be my formal title. But you are correct, Boss is what I’m referred to more often than not. As are most organized crime leaders.” Boris confirmed what Blake already knew.
Fuck! He’d never thought the fuckers messing with Hell’s Exiles could be more than just a rival club, even when they thought Quin’s uncle could be involved. Blake had theorized the man had formed his own club and was now coming after them.
“So, you think the uncle was never involved—”
“I didn’t say that, Blake. I still think he has something to do with this. But I’m beginning to think he’s going about it a different way then forming a rival club.”
“Dedushka? You said something the other day about some of your shipments going missing?”
“Da.”
“How long’s that been going on?” He’d been thinking about it since Boris mentioned it. Had even considered if his connection to both organizations had played a part. Now he wondered if it was a little more involved than that.
“Like you, Bold, I do not like discussing my business in front of none family members, but as you have freely discussed club business in front of me, I will kindly return the favor. The first shipment went missing around twelve months ago,” Boris answered.
“Let me guess,” Zane said, pacing across the large room. He lifted a bottle of vodka, eyed it, and without asking, poured a shot. “The shipment that was taken held explosives?”
“Da.”
“That means ‘yes’, right?”
“Yeah it does, brother. There’s one more thing.” He turned toward his grandfather. “Romero’s in town.”
“I am aware. But I do not think the Los Mochis Cartel has anything to do with this. We do not get along, but we have a sort of truce. The young Romero has been in Reno a few times. My men always follow him, but there has never been any problems.” Boris shrugged his shoulders.
“Then I think it’s time we let Quin know what we’re all thinking.”
If the guy put his hands on her one more time, she was going to stab him. While she was at it, she would stab Danil, too. The man hadn’t stopped leering at her legs since he’d escorted her to the casino floor.
“You want to keep playing, sweetie? Or would you like to come up to my room?” She repressed a shudder. If the guy wasn’t such a slime-ball, he’d be considered handsome. He mistook the shudder for a quiver of excitement. “Come on.” He went to stand. She stayed him with a hand against his thigh.
“But you’re on a winning streak. Don’t you want to keep going? It’s so exciting watching you win all that money.” The ditzy-ness she put in her voice made her cringe just as much as his touch, but it got her what she wanted. He beamed down at her.
“You like seeing me win money, sweetie, then let’s go big.”
She let out a little squeal of excitement that had the dealer dipping his head. Probably to hide his laugh. Yeah, she hadn’t bought the fake enthusiasm either. Acting wasn’t her strong suit. And it just went to prove that great looks didn’t make you smart because the handsome idiot beside her beamed like he’d just gifted her the fountain of youth.
Becca played along, just as she had for the past hour. Her mark—he’d told her his name, but she didn’t faze herself with the little thing . . . like remembering his name—didn’t bat an eyelid when she upped the ante to a hundred large. He thought she was some spoiled debutant playing with daddy’s money, money that had been fattening his pot. Now though, she played to beat him at his own game. He was good, she’d give him that, but she was better. His true nature started to show when she’d cleared him out of more than half his chips.
“Come on, sweetie. I’m getting bored. How about a hand or two of strip poker up in my room?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and all Becca could think was, How did someone so good looking become such a dweeb?
“Just one more, please? Then,” she dropped her voice to a sultry whisper, “Instead of taking me to your room, I’ll take you to mine. I’m staying in the penthouse while daddy is having our house in the Hamptons refurbished. The decor was so last year.” Gag her with a stick. Did guys really like the bimbo act? Or was it only that this bimbo was supposedly rich that made slime guy look like he was ready to propose?
It took some cajoling on her part, but she got him to play another hand. His mood turned sour when he was left with nothing but one one-thousand-dollar chips. However, it didn’t take much to get him to follow her to the elevator and up to the penthouse. Probably thought he could steal her family jewels or something. She mentally rolled her eyes.
Thank Christ for her shadows. Bear and Danil stepped into the lift behind them, saving her from wondering hands. When the mark queried why the guys hadn’t picked a different floor to get off at, she told him they were her bodyguards. She might not be able to act, but lucky for her she’d learned to bullshit on the fly at a young age. That skill had saved her skin many a time.
Just before the lift arrived at the penthouse, Becca snuggled into the mark’s side. If a mark wasn’t escorted from the casino floor by security, she delivered them to Boris and this is where things could get ugly.
As the lift opened, the idiot smartened up, taking in the situation quickly like a good con-artist should. The blade she had poking into his side stopped him from making too big of a scene and stopped his struggling. But what did have her stumbling in her steps and pressing the knife a little deeper into the man’s side was the look on Blake’s face. He was not happy.
Chapter Thirteen
He wanted to kill the piss-ant Becca escorted out of the lift. He’d been in the shack, saw the little bastard rub her up and down, for that alone he was dead. But right now, he was going to fuck his woman. Watching her work had turned him on big time. Her skill was so honed that if she hadn’t told him she could count cards, he never would have known what she was doing. Not only that, she had the mark eating out of her hand. It was no wonder Boris didn’t want her to leave. The mark from tonight had been good, no one would have picked him out, but Becca had, and in doing so saved the casino a truckload of money.
Prowling forward, he cuffed the guy’s neck and lifted him from the ground. “You touched what’s mine. I’ll deal with you later.” The man sagged to the ground when Blake released him. Swinging his arm out, he scooped Becca off her feet and over his shoulder.
She squealed, “Blake! I’m working.”
“No, you’re fucking. Or will be the moment we get to our room.” She giggled.
A chorus of male laughter followed him into the lift.
The ride was quick. The princess giggled more when he broke into a run to get to their suite. She outright laughed when he fought to get the door open. And she moaned when he threw her on the bed, ripped her dress off, then spanked her ass.
His cock throbbed behind his pants. But . . . “Where did you learn to count cards?” he asked, while delivering another slap to her pert ass.
Flinging her hair over her shoulder, she turned her face to look up at him. Her eyes glazed with passion. “You expect me to answer while we’re doing this?”
She yelped at the next slap. “Yes. Now answer the question, princess.”
“Razor taught me to play poker. I don’t know how, but one day I realized I ‘knew’ what the next card would be. Razor was the one who told me what I was doing. Also warned me not to tell anyone I coul
d do it.” He gave her a rewarding tap against her pussy. A whole-body shiver rocked her frame.
“What about the con? You played that sap downstairs like you’d done it before.”
“Razor. He figured as the first girl born into the family I should know how to play with the big boys.” Again, he rewarded her for her answer.
Sliding his hands down her warmed ass, Blake played with her opening. She rocked back against him, trying to impale herself. Growling when he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.
Climbing up the bed, he kneeled behind and leaned over to whisper directly into her ear. “How many languages do you speak? No, don’t argue. Give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you need. This is how we play this game,” he growled before nipping her ear.
“Fine, five: Russian, Spanish, French, Italian, and Japanese. Six if you include English.” He tugged her clit between his fingers. “Blake, enough with the questions and fuck me already.”
Ramming his fingers deep within her, he let her rock back against him a few times before stilling her. His teeth buried in her shoulder. “I’m the one who makes the demands, you, princess, take what I give you.”
She huffed out a breath. “Dammit, Blake, what do you want to know now?”
He hid his grin against her skin. God, he loved her feistiness. “You speak six languages, count cards, which means you’re decent with math. I watched you almost twenty-four seven for months, you took some seriously hard courses, but never seemed to study. While I know you can be a brat at times, I’m learning that’s more an act than an actual personality trait. Exactly how smart are you?” The question had played on his mind since the day before. The puzzle pieces of what he saw and knew about her didn’t quite add up.
She wiggled in his hold and he bit down harder on her shoulder. “Answer me!” he growled around her flesh.
She glared over her shoulder at him, her green eyes filled with fire. “You are a pain in the ass—”
“Not yet, but I can be.”
“—You’ll rip me in fucking two.”
“We’ll see. Now you gonna answer me, princess, so we can get to the fun part of the evening?”
Her growl had him hiding another smile. He hadn’t had this much fun with a woman in years. “Fine. I have an IQ of 150. Now can you stop teasing me and make me come, please?” She added when he raised his eyebrows.
Flipping her over, he stripped his clothes off with such force the seams on his shirt split. Becca starred up at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling. Her breast jiggled with each breath she took. He wished they were back in Boulder, in his house, with his toys. He’d put her in a swing with her hands bound, so he could play with her until they were both spent. Introduce her to the things he liked. Train her. Dominate her.
For now, he just needed to be inside her. Dragging her to the end of the bed, he watched the lips of her cunt suckle the tip of his cock. With more restraint than the night before, he slowly entered her. It was a struggle. She was wet, but so damn tight. A whimper crossed her lips and that dark place inside of him gloried in the fact that she’d be feeling him long after he’d left her body. Fully seated, he ground his hips tight against hers. Whimpers turned to whines, and he loved that he was the first person to wrench that sound from her.
A dark thought entered his mind . . . “I took your virginity last night, but tell me, princess, has another man played with this pussy?” Anger at the thought made his voice rumble.
“That’s none of your business, Blake.” The venom in her voice added fuel to that need for dominance.
Digging a hand into her hip, he used the other to slap at her exposed clit. Her hips jerked, and a moaned curse trembled past her lips.
“Answer me now, princess. Did. You. Let. Anyone. Touch. What. Is. Mine?” With each word, he punched his cock deeper, “‘Cause don’t for one second think this,” he slapped at her clit again, “doesn’t now belong to me—”
“I don’t belong to anyone, asshole.”
Grinding his thumb against the small bundle of nerves, Blake leaned forward until his lips hovered above hers. “That’s where you’re wrong, princess. I’d been fighting this goddamn obsession, but you had to keep pushing it. Had to keep tempting me. And now that I’ve been balls-deep inside you . . . twice, you better fucking believe I own you. This,” he flexed his hips, “is now mine.
“So, tell me, princess, who did you let touch you?”
“I’m not a fucking possession, Blake. You don’t own me. No one does.”
“Wrong answer.” Standing back up, Blake pounded his hips in and out of her tight sheath. Her pleasure pained moans along with her denial drove him crazy. Drove his need to prove her wrong higher.
He could get lost in her depths. Lost in the sweet smell of her skin, and forget about all else, but when she was on the verge of going over the pinnacle, he stilled his hips and denied her release. Denied them both.
Becca whimpered, struggled to move against him. But her soft curves were no match for his size. And her fight only served to make him more determined to have her complete submission.
“I can do this all night, princess. Bring you to the brink only to stop. I’ll keep doing it too, until you give me what I want.”
“You cock-sucking mother-fucking asshole.” She thrashed her upper body against the bed as she screamed the words.
“Wrong answer, again. Now tell me what I want to know.”
The stubborn girl didn’t give him what he wanted, instead clenched her inner muscles, ripping a deep groan out of him. A triumphant smile curled her mouth, and she did it again.
Grasping her hips, Blake pulled out, until the soft petals of her cunt kissed at his cock. Her smile deepened, then fell away when he didn’t plow back in. She might have stolen his control before, but now that he’d crossed that barrier, had already felt her tight pussy engulfing him, his iron control was back. And they were playing a game he loved, and would win.
“I already told you, Becca, I can do this all fucking night. I’ll enjoy it too. So, tell me?” Blake said as he pistoned his cock back into her, then pulled completely out. He repeated the action over and over until she was once more on the brink of climax. When he stilled again, Becca glared up at him, tears streaming from her eyes. Her body trembled, and her chest rose and fell with labored breaths. She was hurting to come, so was he, but he’d continue to deny them both until she gave in.
Becca must have read the determination on his face. Or it could have been that her need had become too great, because on her next breath she screamed, “Rod. I fooled around with Rod.”
Blake slammed back inside her, pumping his hips in quick succession even while his brain processed the fact she hadn’t fucked around with one of his brethren, but the little piss-ant, Romero. And he was a sick enough bastard to want to know all the details. “When did you let him touch what’s mine?” Blake growled between thrusts.
“Not yours.”
Fisting her hair, Blake lifted Becca and crawled further up the bed. “Yes. Mine. And unless you want me to stop again, you’ll answer my question.”
Dropping her on the soft mattress, he flipped her onto her stomach and stared at his palm prints decorating her ass, then lifting her onto her knees, he rammed back home. There was no denying she was his. Not when his mark branded her skin and his cock filled her.
She was tiny compared to him. On hands and knees, her head rubbed against his lower chest as she rocked back to meet his thrusts. That darker side of him, that side that needed to dominate, relished the fact he completely surrounded her.
Edging her back toward orgasm, he felt the telltale rippling, then stilled and repeated his question.
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “You’re a fucking asshole, Blake.” A smile once again graced her mouth.
It was then Blake realized he hadn’t kissed her since hauling her from the penthouse. And he wanted to taste the passion from her lips while he fucked her. Pulling back, he flipped
her over again, capturing her cartwheeling arms. With one hand he pinned them above her head and used the other to hold her face at the angle he wanted.
As with every other time he’d kissed her, she responded with enough enthusiasm to have pre-cum leaking from his cock. The hard peaks of her breast rubbing against his bare chest, mixed with her honey-slicked pussy wetting his abdomen and the sweet taste of her mouth was almost as gratifying as being buried within her cunt.
Nipping at her lips, he pulled away to stare into those green depths and forgot what he’d asked. In that moment he didn’t care, he just wanted to watch those eyes lose focus as the princess came apart.
Flipping them over, he impaled her on his cock and held her still. His balls protested, wanting nothing more than to have ride him hard until they were empty. “When?” he demanded with a sharp punch of his hips.
Her little fists pounded against his chest. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because you are mine.” She shook her head. “Yes, Becca. You’re mine.” While he spoke, his thumb rubbed circles around her clit, but never touching where she needed.
“Red,” she blurted, making Blake laugh.
“That won’t work here. We’re not playing. Not in a scene. This is just you and me.” He could see the pain to come in her eyes. Her whole body trembled with the need. “If you want this to stop. Want to come. You know what to do.”
“About eighteen months ago,” she said on a sob.
The dam broke, as relief flooded his system. He’d had it in his mind that she had been with Romero only days ago. Knowing that he was the last man to touch her in any way had him pistoning his hips up while he bounced her on his cock.
He wasn’t going to last, he’d prolonged his release for too long, but he needed her to come first. “Lean forward.” The angle spread the cheeks of her ass, and Blake took advantage, plunging one finger into her tight rosette.
Becca screamed. The muscles in her cunt clamped around him in a viselike grip before rhythmically pumping. Digging his feet into the mattress, Blake pounded upward, once, twice . . . Sharp teeth sank into his chest. The quick pain threw him over the edge of bliss and filled her with his seed.
