by Frankie Love
And, ohmygod, his cock is like a rolling pin. My mouth waters and my juices flow so hotly I smell them.
He lifts me. I love the feeling of him taking me like that. Like he owns me.
“Oh, no,” his voice rumbles and he moves toward the door. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited. I want to see my gorgeous Lucy.”
Thinking fast, I say, “There’s a light by the bed. Can’t we use that?”
“Okay.”
He takes me with a kiss. Through my thin satin robe, I can feel his hot skin. When I wrap my legs around him, his thick cock is trapped against my clit. I can’t stop myself rubbing and grinding against him. It’s frightening, thinking of all of that spearing into me. But maybe it won’t all go in.
Maybe somehow it won’t rip me in half.
He lays me on the bed, keeping our bodies together. I flinch as he turns on the light.
I don’t want to let him pull up and look at me. But I can’t stop him. I know I can’t stop him from doing anything he wants to do. So I’m shaking, afraid this is all going to be over. Too soon.
I try to resist as he peels my robe open. But I can’t.
His face glows and his eyes burn as they travel over my trembling flesh.
Chapter Five
Lucy
“Lucy,” he groans, “you are so beautiful.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s just being nice.
He pulls my thighs apart. He’s looking at me so intently I’m melting. My body shakes. Tenderly, he asks, “Are you sure you want this? Tonight?”
My throat is thick and I can’t speak. All I can do is nod and hold out my arms.
He lays above me and pushes until I feel him at my entrance. Now I’m shaking so hard, I feel like I’m going to burst apart. He looks in my eyes.
He slides a hand up my back to lift me.
I raise my thighs and part them, as wide as they will go.
My juices spill over him and my walls vibrate. His bulb fills my opening. I hold my breath.
When he breaks in, I shout his name. Fling my arms and legs around him tightly. I never knew pain could feel good. I never knew a stab could make me come.
He tears me open and slams inside me, deeper and deeper, easing me wider and wider. I ache for him. My walls suck on him. The harder he drives in, the deeper he drills, the more it fills me and the more I want it.
My fingers stretch and claw and my nails scrape his back. I cling to him and my hips hammer back, my pussy gripping and wet along the pulsing ridges of his rod. I shudder, shaking with hot chills and cascading spasms.
He growls as he looks into my eyes. The look on his face could make me die and come. And come. And die.
He shouts my name and every part of me clenches as I grip him and he slams deeper, pumping, swelling, filling me up with his hot, sticky juice.
Afterward, snuggling, drowsy, I tell him, “I can’t quite believe this is really happening.” I stroke his chin with my finger. “You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Paul.”
“If I’d known how soft, I would have come for it a lot sooner.”
“I always wanted to tell you. But I was sure you never wanted me.”
“Why?”
“Well, there’s my over-indulged fondness for cakes, pastries, and things that are generally creamy.”
His chest rumbles and he traces my nipple. “I’ve got plenty of cream for you.” He pulls me nearer, holding his hard pecs against my soft flesh. “But I wouldn’t want any less of you, Lucy. You are all I want, and I want all of you. You are my dream come true.”
Clinging to him, I nuzzle into his shoulder.
“It’s not only that, though. We’re from different worlds, Paul. You’re part of a high-flying dynasty of…” I’m afraid to go on.
His voice is hard. “Mobsters.”
I pull back to see his face, but I can’t read the look in his eyes.
“It’s what we are, Lucy. I was born into an organized crime family. The O’Malleys are mobsters. No use pretending.”
“I’m from nowhere, Paul. You’re set to marry your family into another…” I trail off again.
“Mob royalty. Like the medieval princes and princesses, it’s always been how families gather power.”
So I’m a stop on the way. That’s okay. It’s no more or less than I expected. I just have to hold down the feelings that are simmering up in my gut, making my eyes sore.
He holds me tighter and looks into my eyes. “But I make my own choices.”
My heart sinks. “Are you going to suggest one of those traditional arrangements?” My eyes are brimming. He starts to shake his head, but I go on. “One of those things where the prince is officially married, but he keeps a courtesan or whatever they call them…”
“No, Lucy…”
“I’m cheap enough, right?”
The fierce burn in his eyes scares me. He grabs my shoulders. “Lucy, there’s nothing cheap about you. You’re the most precious thing in the world to me.” His jaw tightens. “And nobody’s going to tell me who to marry.”
In the morning, even though a glow still warms me inside, I feel empty after he leaves.
Even before I have coffee ready, I have to call JoJo. I’m nervous about making the call, but not for long. My first reaction to almost anything is to call JoJo. But this is different. It’s not every day that I say, Guess what your brother and I did all night!
As soon as she answers, she says, “Soooo… ?” in a low voice like a growl from a mischievous kitten. And she’s thrilled when I tell her.
I ask, “Isn’t he supposed to have a marriage arranged with a family from Boston?”
“Sure, a McCarthy girl. But that’s just Dad playing at dynasties. Everyone in the family loves you, Lucy.” Her voice bounces with excitement. “We could be like sisters! You could live here, in a house in the compound.”
“Is there a house for Paul?”
“There will be when he gets married. You’ve seen Peter’s house, right?”
My stomach buzzes with nerves. “Okay, I love all of this, JoJo, but it was one night.”
“Mm. Tell me all about it. I mean, not the sex – he is still my brother. But the rest of it!”
Well, I don’t quite want to do that. Not yet, at least. At least, not before I’ve had some time to process it. But we have a lovely, giggly chat.
As I hang up, the implications start to set in, and they’re pretty scary. I love the O’Malleys like they were my own family, but could I really handle being an O’Malley? Do I want that life?
The money, the cars, the houses, the glitz and glamor are all mind-blowing. It’s like a movie star’s life. But I don’t know how I could cope with the darker side.
Chapter Six
Paul
In the King Pine casino, I’m the king of the castle. I stride through every gaming floor and greet all of the dealers, pit bosses, cocktail waiters and waitresses. Everybody. Let them all know that I’m here.
There’s nowhere on earth like Las Vegas when you’re winning. At last, the O’Malley family is on the way up, and here I am, leading the way. Heading up the flagship resort. The hotel and casino complex that will spark downtown’s expansion. Old Vegas will finally give the Strip some serious competition.
Las Vegas Boulevard, watch out. Four glittering miles in the desert known as the Strip have sucked up too big a share of the high-rolling players and deep-pocketed whales, too much of the mega-casino development for way too long.
The tables are turning now, and it’s going to be me, Paul O’Malley, making the wheel spin.
Kingpin Casino and Downtown Resort will launch soon. Until then, we’ll carry the old branding. Reinforce as much loyalty with the established customers as we can before we bring in the millennials and the convention crowds.
Using sweetness and charm to build loyalty is a bright and refreshing change for me. I’m more used to pressing metal against flesh. Bending and twisting limbs in cold, wet, underground
rooms.
After my night of passion, and then the bright morning, waking up with Lucy safe and protected in my arms, I feel more like a king than ever before. I can do anything. I can look people in the eye. Smile, even.
Arnie, one of the lead contractors, is going to be late on two stages of construction. And he’s holding out for more money.
In the past, I might have put one of his men into his cement mixer. But I see a way to smooth this over with an easy negotiation. He’s brought two of his senior engineers to the meeting, so I can see all he needs is to save face. I tell him, “Okay, you’re right about the overrun. Let’s split the cost. Then you’ll have enough to give your men the bonus they need to complete the project on time.”
My phone rings in my pocket. I need to get this business cleared up first.
After we shake hands, all smiles, the meeting breaks up. I ask Arnie to stay back. I ask him, “Did you get what you needed?”
“I got all that I need.”
“Good. Just so we understand each other, I’ll be cutting back the final payment by the same amount.” He goes to speak, but I smile and raise a hand. “Your men get to see that you stood up for them. So that’s a win for you. But we both know this was a shakedown, and that’s why I’m invoking the penalty clause in our contract for late completion.”
“I’m–”
“You’re learning a lesson, Arnie. Next time, negotiate with me openly.”
“Or…?” He can’t dent my mood.
“Don’t say or, Arnie. Not to me. You don’t want to go there.”
My phone rings again. I usher Arnie out of the boardroom.
I missed the call. My heart skips. It was Lucy. I call her straight back.
The voice on the other end makes my blood run cold. “Paul O’Malley?”
It’s a man’s voice that I don’t recognize.
“That fancy new casino of yours? By rights, it belongs to someone else.”
In the background on the other end, I hear a thump, then crashes. Heavy glass shatters.
Then there’s a shriek. With no hesitation, I recognize it’s hers.
The man laughs and hangs up.
When I drive back to Lucy’s apartment, there’s nobody here.
A hollow clang shakes my gut when I see the entrance to her apartment. The slow swinging door feels like a bad omen.
Inside, the place is a wreck. It looks like a hurricane blew straight through. All of Lucy’s furnishings are ripped and broken. Seems like every piece of glass is smashed. Drawers and closets have all been yanked open, and the contents strewn on the floors, on the bed, and all over the bathroom.
On my way here, I sent texts to both of my brothers and to Dad.
As I’m walking back out of the front door, John is the first to call.
“Any news?”
I tell him about the state of Lucy’s apartment.
“We can probably guess who’s behind it.” I know he means the Morettis. “Did you see anything conclusive?”
“No. I’m just going to collect the files from the surveillance cameras.”
“She’s got surveillance? That’s good.” He sounds surprised and a bit puzzled. I might as well level with him.
“The cameras are mine.”
“You got cameras around her apartment building?”
“They pick out license plates.”
He pauses for a beat. “Well, that will be a help.”
I call Tony Vincente. “Tony, I’m sending you some license plate numbers.” Tony monitors screens and traffic control at the data center for Las Vegas MPD.
“Paul,” his voice is low. It has the tunneled sound of his hand cupped over his mouth. There’s a swishing sound of motion in the background, like he’s rushing down an echoing hallway. Headed for the john, I expect. Furtive, he says, “Paul, you know I would love to help you out. My supervisors are up my ass. Send me what you’ve got and I’ll get back to you when I can.”
“Tony, I need the results now. I’ve sent you the numbers I need tracked and the locations where they were seen.”
“Paul, I could lose my job…”
“Won’t matter if I have to come there and throw you through a window.”
“Paul. You…”
“You need me to remind you of the favor you owe me?”
“No… I…”
“Right answer. Get back to me. And fast.”
Next, I call Detective Pat Gallagher in the LVMPD organized crime bureau.
“Pat, a team from Boston flew into McCarran the day before yesterday. I expect you’re aware? I need everything you know about them. Every move they’ve made, every time one of them scratched their ass since they got to Las Vegas. And I need it now.”
“I don’t know what we’ve got, but I’ll look up what I can for you, Paul.”
“Does my voice sound at all casual to you, detective?”
“Um… no. Not really.”
“Have you been monitoring the group I’m talking about?”
“We… we’ve had word of them, Paul.”
“Get your fucking ass moving. Pronto, fucker. Time to earn your fucking graft.”
“It could take time.”
“You don’t have any. Send me everything you’ve got. Now.”
A dull black Hummer is pulling up outside Lucy’s building. Peter is driving. I make him shift seats and I take the wheel.
From the rear of the Hummer, John says, “They must have been watching us like hawks.”
I know what my brothers are thinking. And they’re right. John is just too sensitive to me to say it straight out. I drive a short while, then say, “Okay. I know it. They must have been watching me.”
“No need to reproach yourself.” John’s voice is calm and steady. He’s checking and loading Glocks, AR-15s and Mossbergs. He brought grenades, smoke bombs, a full assault kit. “You’re the face of the new casino. If they were going to have a target, it was bound to be you.”
I stab the accelerator hard. “I wouldn’t have minded so much if it were just me.”
“No,” Peter tells me. “You would probably have wiped them all out by now.”
The Hummer leans and the tires scream as I sling it around a bend. I know where we’re headed. The group has taken over an old warehouse complex out in the desert north of Las Vegas, but we don’t have too much intel on how many of them are likely to be there.
Pat Gallagher’s squad believes the team was hired by Drago, the Morettis’ security captain and chief hood.
John says, “Relax, Paul. We’ve got this.”
“Might be best if you let John and me lead this, Paul.” Peter means well enough.
“It’s me they’re out to get, and it’s me they’re getting.” I bang my hands on the wheel. “But you’re right, John. They must have fucking trailed me last night. I should have seen something.”
John’s voice is firm and low. “Probably used drones, Paul.”
“That’s what I figured,” Peter says, “or you would have seen them on pure instinct. If they were in a car or a van, you’d have made them for sure.”
“At night especially.” John is the voice of reason. “Can’t hide lights at night.”
Peter says, “John’s right, though, Paul. Relax. Separate yourself from it.”
“I’ll slay the fucking lot of them.”
“You’ll get your girl out,” John says, “quick and clean with a minimum of fuss.”
Peter puts a hand on my shoulder. “You know this is the best way. For her safety, as well as ours.”
Right now, I’m thinking the best way is to burst in and open up with all weapons on automatic and repeat. That’s just hot blood doing my thinking. I’m so mad right now. Seriously. I need to breathe and calm down before we get there.
Chapter Seven
Lucy
They broke down the door to my apartment. I was in the shower.
The noise was a shock. It was lucky I had a pair of jeans and a shirt handy, or I’
d have run out in a towel. Getting my panties pulled up was hard without stopping to dry myself, but I knew I had to get out of the apartment fast.
If I had any smarts at all, I would have gone out of the bathroom window instead.
Three of them were trashing my apartment. They were huge and ugly. As they wrecked my things, they didn’t seem to be looking for anything. And they weren’t angry. Like bad school kids, they just looked like they were having fun, smashing up all of my little possessions.
They pulled out every drawer and just flipped it. Turned everything out. Then they flung the drawers against the mirrors and the picture frames and they stamped on everything. It was like the part of a movie where everything starts to turn bad and you get that feeling that everybody’s going to get slaughtered, all except for one girl who gets out at the end.
That girl was not going to be me. I was the girl who should have gone out of the window when she had the chance.
The three men stopped and stared at me when they spotted me. They were hunched. Huge. Slavering. In the smashed-up wreckage of my little apartment.
I was clothed, but still soaked and dripping from head to foot. They looked like snarling dogs that had been ripping up scraps when they all looked up and saw a rabbit.
One of the men said, “Ooh, look! What shall we do with her?”
“Plump little Irish girl. She could pass for a Sicilian mamma.”
“Yeah. If it weren’t for the hair.”
“She could pass for a Sicilian whore, though. They have all kinds of mongrel blood in their veins.”
“Here, pussy, pussy, pussy!”
After they made me call Paul the first time and he didn’t pick up, one of them said, “Oh, that’s bad. The big mick doesn’t care so much about his plump little pussy.”
Another one said, “Maybe we take her as our pet. The minchione should have taken better care of her.”
