Joker’s Wild: Vegas Underground, book 5

by Rose, Renee

  I lick my lips. “Why are you doing this?”

  “To cheer you up. Is it working?”

  I nod. “Yeah, actually. It is. Thanks.”

  He tilts his head down and for one second I think he’s going to kiss me—and I’m not sure I’m into it, especially in a boutique, but he just leans his forehead against mine. “I don’t like to see you cry,” he murmurs.

  My breath catches. I give his chest a very half-hearted push. More of a nudge really. “I didn’t know you did nice.”

  He pulls away and I’m disappointed to see his mask’s back in place, like I just reminded him to be an asshole. “You’re right. I don’t.” No smile at all as he turns and walks to the counter, pulling out his money.

  Damn. Why’d I have to be such a bitch?

  * * *

  Junior

  I should’ve given her a higher spending limit. I didn’t realize she’d try to bust it all in one stop, but I don’t mind seeing that ring flashing on her finger and knowing I put it there. Pretending I marked her with it, claimed her as mine.

  She heads toward the car, but I make a negative sound in my throat. “Time’s not up.”

  “Yeah, but I spent the limit.”

  I tip my head toward a clothing boutique. I’m an asshole, but I really want to see her changing clothes. Dressing up. Modeling shit. It’s stupid, but a total turn on for me. I love the idea of a woman dressing for her man. Twirling around and asking if she looks good, knowing damn well she does.

  She lifts her brows, but I can tell she likes it. A lot of women get turned on seeing money splashed around. I guess on a biological level, it shows the man’s a good provider or some shit. All I know is throwing money down in front of a woman makes good foreplay. Not that I’m trying to get laid.

  The boutique is all designer jeans—shelves and shelves of them with a few racks of designer tees in the middle of the store.

  A young salesperson—the only one in the small shop—bustles over. “Can I help you find the perfect pair of jeans?”

  Desiree throws a glance my way.

  “Yes,” I answer for her.

  “Great, do you mind if I measure you?” The salesperson—who looks nineteen, and very serious about her jeans, whips out a measuring tape.

  “Sure.” Desiree pulls off her jacket and lifts her arms to get measured.

  The salesperson fires off a series of questions about her preferences as she traipses about the shop, pulling a half dozen pairs of jeans from the shelves. “Let’s start with these. Let me show you to the dressing room.” She looks at me. “Do you want to go back with her?”

  Fuck, yeah, I want to go back with her.

  I give a solemn nod and palm a hundred dollar bill from my pocket. She leads us back and opens a curtain to a large changing room. Clearly we’re the only ones in the shop, which suits me just fine.

  As she leaves, I slip her the money and murmur, “Hundred bucks if you give us some time alone.”

  She tucks the money in her pocket. “You got it. Make a mess and you buy it.” She arches a brow.

  Cute. She has enough attitude to understudy Desiree.

  I head into the dressing room where Desiree is already stripping off her boots, all business. She clearly didn’t catch my exchange with the saleswoman.

  I settle in one of the seats to watch the show.

  “She didn’t ask me if I wanted you to come back here,” Desiree complains, stripping off her jeans.

  “You did,” I tell her. I know it’s true by the confident way she undresses and struts over to pick up a pair of jeans to try on.

  My mouth goes dry, dick gets hard as stone as I watch her try on a pair of jeans that hugs her ass.

  “What do you think?” She turns around, looking critically in the mirror. Pretending she doesn’t know she looks like a million bucks.

  “We’ll take them,” I say, voice rough.

  Her nipples get hard when she hears the desire in my voice and she shoots me a seductive look from under her lashes.

  Beautiful woman.

  She tries on another pair of jeans. They are equally magnificent. The third pair doesn’t fit right. When she pulls them off, I get up from my seat, advancing with the stalking quality of a predator.

  She goes still, watching me. Waiting for it.

  I grasp her waist. “Get up there.” I help her climb up to stand on the bench against the long wall of the dressing room.

  “What are you doing?” She sounds breathless.

  I push her ass back until it hits the wall, then pull the gusset of her panties aside, lower my head and taste her.

  She jerks and cries out. I reach up and cover her mouth with one hand and yank her panties down and off with the other. She bucks her hips, gripping my arm for stability. Her open lips press against my palm, warm and soft.

  I open her labia with my thumb and forefinger and trace around the inside, laving her clit, diddling it with the tip of my tongue, suctioning my lips over it and sucking.

  She bites at my hand, moaning against it, her hot breath turning wet and steamy as she writhes under my tongue.

  I don’t stop torturing her. I lick and flick and work her swollen clit. I penetrate her with my stiffened tongue. She grips me by the hair and yanks me against her, pushing her sopping folds into my mouth. I shove two fingers inside her and she screams against my hand, which I clamp around her jaw even tighter. I’m being rough, but I know she likes it. Her body responds to me every fucking time, like it was made for me.

  And right now, I’m going to make sure she comes faster than a freight train. Because she needs the release.

  And damn, if I don’t want to be the guy who gives it to her.

  Every.

  Fucking.

  Time.

  I curl my fingers inside her, trying to find her G-spot.

  Bingo!

  Her knees buckle and she cries out against my palm, pelvis jerking uncontrollably. I pump my fingers in and out. When I flick my tongue against her clit at the same time, she sobs and tears at my hair with one hand, her other hand grabbing my wrist to shove my fingers deeper. Her nails dig into my skin.

  I pump a few times more to show her who’s in control, then shove deep and give her a break long enough for her to come.

  The moment I stop thrusting, she shudders and releases, her inner walls tightening around my fingers. She rises up on her tiptoes, squeezes her inner thighs together around my wrist. I keep lapping at her clit through her entire climax until she stumbles forward, and I have to catch her waist to keep her from falling. I slide my fingers out and help her down. I turn to sit on the bench and pull her onto my lap, palming her still pulsing pussy.

  She moans and leans her head back on my shoulder. “Jesus, Junior.”

  I stroke her sopping folds like I’m soothing her pussy back to normal. “How do you feel now, doll?”

  “Better,” she murmurs. Her body is heavy on mine, like she’s completely relaxed. “I hated being quiet, though.” Her laugh is husky, and it makes my aching dick throb even more. “I’m in the camp of if I didn’t scream, it didn’t count.”

  I slap her pussy and her two thighs jerk together. “Didn’t count?” I growl. I slap her wet folds again. “You need me to make it count?”

  “Can we go back to your place?” Her voice rasps from the strangle-screaming. “Please?”

  Fuck if I could deny her anything right now. Especially considering the state of my cock.

  “So you can scream at the top of your lungs, baby?”

  She gives another one of those husky laughs. “Yeah.”

  I lift her off my lap so fast she giggles and I slap her ass. “Ten seconds to get dressed,” I bark.

  She grabs her panties and hops around, putting them on.

  I pick up the three pairs of jeans she hasn’t tried on yet, plus the two that we know fit her. “I’m gonna pay for these. And I’m still counting.” I put a little warning note in my voice for the last part and she g
rins, shoving her foot into her jeans.

  “Right behind you, boss man.”

  Fuck, I am so lost for this girl.

  * * *

  Desiree

  Getting off without full-on penetration feels like cheating. I don’t think I’d be happy as a lesbian because I really feel like I need the big cock. Of course, they make awesome dildos for that, so maybe I’d be fine.

  All I know is I didn’t get enough of Junior Tacone back in that clothing store, and I need to feel complete.

  He drives back fast—screechy tires fast—and gets rid of Paolo. And then he grabs me outside Gio’s room as soon as I finish repacking his wounds and refreshing the IV.

  He shoves me up against the wall, pinning my wrists beside my head. His lips descend on mine, crushing my mouth. His teeth scrape my lips, tongue invades. All the while, he grinds his impressive erection against my belly.

  I wrap one leg around his waist to angle him into the notch where he needs to be.

  He curses in Italian and pulls my other leg up, then carries me into his bedroom.

  I work open the button on the trousers of his thousand dollar suit and slide my hand down to grip his cock. It’s long and hard and jerks in my palm. I drop to my knees while he frees his erection from his boxer briefs.

  I’m wet just thinking about giving him pleasure. I part my lips and lift my gaze to his so I can watch his face the moment I take him into my mouth.

  His eyes are dark as night and a muscle jerks in his face as I engulf the head, swirling my tongue underneath. He tunnels his fingers into my hair, grips it tight. I indulge in the fantasy of being forced.

  I owe the mafia money and Junior’s making me pay this way.

  I take him deep into my throat, then pull back and bob my head over the head a few times. I repeat it, gripping the base of his cock hard to make it lengthen down the back of my throat. I firmly cup and lift his balls, then stroke them downward a few times as I suck. Then I massage the taint, stroking from back to front.

  Junior’s breath turns ragged, his fist tightens in my hair. Pre-cum swirls in my mouth, mixing with my saliva to make a super-lube. I give his cock a moment to cool off and pump my hand over it as I suck his balls, lick along the line from the back of his testicles to his taint.

  “You’re fucking killing me,” Junior rasps, his grip on my hair too tight. “I wanna come in your mouth so bad.”

  “So do,” I tell him, positioning my lips over his cock again, but he holds my hair and pulls back.

  “No, no, no, no. I need to fuck you, doll. I need to fuck you so hard you forget your name.”

  No arguments here.

  He releases my hair and pulls me to stand by my elbow. “Bend over the bed.” He slaps my ass as I turn to comply. He reaches under me to work the button on my jeans and I help him shove them down my hips. I hear the rip of a condom wrapper and then he shoves into me without preamble.

  I cry out in pleasure.

  This.

  Yes.

  Exactly what I need.

  “Yes,” I’m babbling right away. “Please, Junior, so good.”

  He grips my nape and plows in hard, slamming against my ass, his balls swinging against my clit.

  I open my legs wider, arch my back to receive him. It feels so good. Pleasure and satisfaction rocket through me, even though I haven’t reached orgasm yet. My body sings, celebrating this new position, this moment. This man.

  I cry out and moan and beg as he takes me fast and hard.

  “You keep up that noise, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

  “Don’t stop,” I cry out. “I mean, come! Please, give it to me. Give it to me harder. Now.”

  I sound like the sluttiest porn character and I really don’t care. All I know is I’m getting exactly what I need in this moment.

  And it feels incredible.

  “Fanculo, fanculo, fanculo, fuck!” Junior roars and slams deep into me. I swear I feel the heat of his cum, even though the condom.

  I come too, ripples of pleasure rolling through my body as I milk his cock for all it’s worth.

  “Yes, Junior, yes.” I’m still babbling.

  Junior eases out and I float away, into the blessed space of no thought.

  I return to reality when he cleans me with a washcloth and rubs my ass.

  “You okay, baby?” The stern don is gone, replaced by the very human, very gentle side of Junior. It’s a side I doubt he shows many, and I feel honored that he’s shown it to me so many times today.

  I roll to my side and sit up. My face feels hot. I push my hair out of my eyes. Junior hands me a bottle of water. “You’re the hottest fucking woman on the planet, you know that?”

  I flush, drinking from the water bottle. “Thank you.”

  He smiles and puts a knuckle under my chin to lift my gaze. “You thanking me for the best sex I’ve had in years? Okay, I’ll take it.”

  “Not for that. Well, yes for that, but just thank you.” I find the courage to look him in the eye. “For today. For helping me forget.”

  “Forget what, baby?” he asks softly.

  My eyes get wet, but it’s okay. I don’t feel sad anymore. Just wrung out. “Today’s my little boy’s birthday,” I say, my throat squeezing. “And he’s with his dad somewhere. And I don’t know where.” My voice wavers and breaks on the last word.

  “Oh, baby.” He pulls me up from the bed and into his arms, pulling up my panties and jeans while he holds me. It’s a simple gesture, but I’ve never felt so taken care of in my life. At least not by a man. With Abe, I had to be his mama, not that he accepted anything I had to offer. But he certainly never gave. Never took care of me, even after I gave birth to his son. Never did me any favors.

  I bury my face in Junior’s chest and he rubs my back, cups the back of my neck, kisses my hair.

  “I’m sorry, doll. I really am.”

  “So that’s where my money goes. I’ve hired a private investigator to find them, but it’s really expensive. And so far, my ex has kept under the radar.”

  “You’re gonna find them.” Junior’s voice has a ring of conviction and I want so badly to believe him. “You will,” he says firmly, like he knows I’m unsure. “And when you do, I’ll be happy to take care of your ex for you.”

  My stomach knots and I push him away. “Junior, no.”

  He holds his palms up. “Well, if you ever need me to take care of him or anyone—you know I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  I shake my head, fresh tears wetting my eyes, but this time they’re not for me. At least I don’t think they are. They’re for him. For me because I can’t have a man like him. It’s not normal to suggest violence as a solution to every problem. And I don’t think he even wants to be that man anymore. I don’t think it’s the real him. “Junior...”

  “Yeah?”

  “No.” I try to keep the condemnation out of my voice, but don’t quite succeed. When I see him flinch, I rush on. “I appreciate the offer, I really do. It’s amazing to know I have someone like you in my corner.” I reach out to touch his arm. “But I’m not down with the violence. And honestly? I don’t think that’s really you. I don’t believe that’s who you want to be. I mean, you told me you want out.”

  He scrubs a hand over his face, suddenly looking ten years older. “Yeah. Well. It’s who I am, Desiree. I may hate it, but I can’t change what is. And if I’m going to use violence for anything, it’s sure as hell gonna be to help the woman I care about.”

  I don’t think he meant to be so revealing, because he shoots a semi-alarmed glance at me, like he can’t believe he said that.

  The woman I care about.

  The words hit me straight in the chest. The arrow pierces, but it spreads warmth through my chest. It also scares the shit out of me.

  We’re not doing “care about” here. We were doing rough sex. I can’t care about Junior Tacone. At least, I don’t want to. There’s no long term future for me with a mobster.

  I
t must read it in my face, because he stands up, giving me his back.

  The arrow lodged in my chest turns leaden.

  But then a terrible thud sounds from Gio’s room and Junior and I both go running out of the room.

  Chapter 9

  Junior

  “Gio!” My brother’s on the floor, groaning.

  “Ow. Fuck.” Gio groans.

  I rush to his side and grab under his arm to help him up. “Hey, fratellino. Take it easy.”

  Desiree positions herself on the other side him to help.

  “I’m okay. ‘S okay,” Gio says, but he’s panting and wincing and can’t seem to stand up.

  “Fanculo,” I swear.

  “On three,” Desiree says, totally in charge of the situation, as usual. “One...two...three.” I pull as hard as I can, because I sure as fuck know Desiree’s not strong enough to lift my brother, and we get him up.

  His yelp of pain goes right into the center my bones though. My brother’s no pansy. If he’s making sounds like that, he’s in serious pain, and can’t control his own responses to it.

  “On his left side,” Desiree directs and we roll him over. She pulls off his bandage from the back, her lips forming a tight line.

  “Is it okay?”

  She uses her efficient nurse voice. “He tore the IV site and the stitches, but he’ll be fine. I’ll get him stitched and repacked.”

  Gio looks at his wound in the front. “How long since I was shot?”

  “Four days,” I tell him.

  He cranes his head to look at Desiree. “I’m lying here with two holes in my gut while you’re boning my nurse?” he asks me in Italian.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I say, but it doesn’t have the force behind it I usually use. I’m relieved to hear Gio talk again.

  “Well, she’s hot, I’ll give you that. I’d bang her—”

  “I said shut up.”

  We’re both speaking Italian, but Desiree gives us a suspicious look. “Are you talking about me?”

  “He said you’re beautiful.”