by E. M. Gayle
Which is how I ended up sitting in this overpriced bar in this particular hotel. Romeo Rossi's son had taken up at least part-time residence in The Sinclair, a luxury boutique hotel that catered to a lot of the world's elite, including those right here in Vegas. As for Vincent, Romeo's secret son, he claimed he was nothing more than a boxer, but if rumors of his upcoming retirement from the sport were true, there was a good chance he'd be moving into the family biz any day now.
And I intended to be here for the show.
With my thoughts circling that dark drain, my glass empty, and no waitress in sight to remedy the situation, that was when she finally walked into the lounge and made her way across the room.
Known simply as Nova, she led a very public life, and it didn't take much to learn everything about her. From her meteoric rise as a new clothing designer in New York to her arrival in Las Vegas to open an exclusive store in the brand new Sinclair hotel and casino. He could only imagine how lucrative a partnership like that would be.
If that wasn't enough, she had throngs of fans across social media who couldn't seem to wait to see what she wore anytime she left her top floor suite. Her outfit of the day posts were viewed, liked, and shared hundreds of thousands of times per day.
While I got the effect of social media on her life, it wasn't what drew me to the woman or why I looked at her pictures. I enjoyed a woman in nice clothing as much as the next guy, but clothes weren't usually high on my radar. Unless those details somehow intersected with my work, I rarely noticed.
Tonight, she wore a short black dress that matched the color of her long inky hair. She'd chosen to leave it down, and the long tresses floated down her back to her waist like some kind of fucking veil. The dress, though, it was hard to tear my eyes off it. Not when it fit her so tight there wasn't a chance in hell I, and every other fucker in this place, wouldn't notice every single curve of her perfect body. And they were luscious. Since the first night I'd seen her, those curves had given me all sorts of ideas. Especially when it came to how my hands would grip her as I pulled her tight against me. Every memory of her became instant spank bank material.
That dress alone pulled a low groan from me that couldn't be contained.
Not to mention the fact she absolutely could not be wearing a bra with that thing.
Which left me no choice but to imagine her nipples rubbing against the fabric with each step she took. And the idea that those little gems were as rock hard as my cock nearly did me in.
That dress stopped well above her knees, showcasing the strong, tan legs that carried her across the room to a stool at the bar. Her favorite spot to sit and people watch, since she never actually met anyone here. Men and women alike approached her, some even asked for a picture. But none were ever invited to stay.
And did I mention the strappy gold heels that would look good in the air and draped over my shoulders as I fucked into her?
I scrubbed my face to relieve some tension. Her presence had an effect on me I couldn't explain. If she was just a beautiful woman, I might have seen her differently—this town had plenty of those—but this woman had a complexity to her that not many did. It made for an even more enticing allure.
The dread of coming here tonight flipped instantly to something else. Excitement? Yes. Desire? Fuck yes. More importantly though... Knowledge.
As she bent her head to the bartender to order her drink — a martini, dry, no olives — I made up my mind. Tonight would be a night neither of us ever forgot.
Asking her out on a date appealed on a strangely surreal level. Mostly because I didn't date. Small talk and flirtation were not my forte nor did they interest me. You needed a man broken in an interview? I was your guy. You needed someone to dig deep to uncover the darkest secrets a man possessed? Also me.
In my book, attraction meant only one thing. Scratching an itch and then moving on.
However, when she adjusted on that damned leather seat and turned to take in the rest of the room, I saw her eyes land on me and take me in. The jolt from that simple look made my next move solidify.
I might be lost and on my way to hell, but damned if I wasn't going to take her with me.
Tonight, I was going to drink her in and drown. Fuck the code I was about to violate.
That woman was about to be mine.
First, I needed to make my move. She wouldn't be here more than thirty minutes, and it would be a fraction of that time before men began approaching. I didn't want to watch that. The mood I was in tonight, it might not bode well for them.
I stood up, threw a few bills on the table, and walked across the crowded bar. The Sinclair might be a bit more upscale than the average casino on the Strip, but it was still on the Strip, giving it a steady stream of customers who came and went at all hours of the night.
For a public person like her, it had to be part of what drew her here. She could people watch and collect content for her social media to her heart's content. Yes, I had stalked her. From the first night I'd seen her, I'd been curious to know everything I could. The more the better.
I settled into the seat next to hers, and I nearly groaned when the scent of vanilla hit me. Vanilla and something else...whatever it was, it gave off dark vibes and it made my entire body tighten up.
Thank fuck I was sitting at a bar and not standing in front of her, so I could hide my traitorous dick that had gone from a solid half-hard chub to fucking stone.
I motioned to the bartender, "I'll take a Guinness when you get a chance."
"We don't have that on tap. Is that okay?"
"Sure." I didn't care. The quality of beer was the last thing I had on my mind.
"You got it," he said, before turning to the waitress who'd come up behind him.
I'd decided, no more scotch tonight. Whatever happened next, I wanted to be fully lucid for it. If I was going to make a bad decision there'd be nothing to blame but my own poor choices. I didn't believe in making excuses or bullshitting my way through any consequences.
I'd take whatever came my way, and fuck everything else.
I accepted the beer and chilled glass set in front of me a few minutes later and I slowly poured it into the glass. The swirl of dark liquid and cream-colored foam mesmerized me for a moment. Neither of us had said anything yet, but I got the impression she was waiting for it.
As far as I was concerned, the darkness I sensed could have represented either one of us, but a little more me than her I'd guess. I might be a federal agent, but my soul was far from clean. From a young age, I'd learned the hard way—to get things done, you often had to ride outside the lines. And boy did I.
I'd been raised by my father, who was the co-president of an outlaw motorcycle club, and my mother, who loved two men and refused to decide between them. That had eventually led to her death. My life at home had gone downhill long before that, but that had been the final nail in the coffin, so to say, on ever having a normal life. In other words, I lived in what I considered a constant darkness.
One man went to jail, while the other buried his head in the sand so deep, he could no longer see up.
Anger, fear, and resentment were my childhood companions, and although my father thought I was some sort of Boy Scout, he couldn't have been more wrong.
I shook my head and cleared my thoughts of the past. They had no business here. As I took the first sip, and the dark beer mixed with the creamy foam, I again thought of her. She had light and dark in her as well. I’d seen it more than once in her eyes.
And there was something about that which drew me like a moth to an irresistible flame. I knew it would burn me in the end, but in the moment, I didn't fucking care.
I had to know more about her.
That was the difference in her sweet scent. I could easily detect the vanilla at first, but it was the darker, earthier musk underneath that lingered and made me need to solve the puzzle. I wanted more of whatever it was, and tonight would be the night I got my first taste.
My gut tol
d me it would be the best fucking thing in the world, and I would never be the same again.
However, before I could start a conversation, another woman came up to the bar and sat on the other side of Nova. They greeted each other excitedly and then the other woman proceeded to order food to go.
Zia. That was her name. She was reportedly about to open a restaurant here in The Sinclair, but more important to me, I’d seen her with Vincent Cabrini, the man I had originally tagged as my diamond thief, and presumed they were dating.
They chatted and while I didn’t intentionally listen in on their conversation, it was hard not to hear at least some of it. It sounded like they were close. When Zia’s gaze turned to me and she whispered toward Nova, I inwardly smiled. I guess my attention had not gone unnoticed.
Moments later, Zia left with what looked like Vincent’s driver, and for a moment I considered following them. Her posture had grown stiff, and she didn’t look one hundred percent comfortable, but Nova was smiling after her friend so I was going to assume I didn’t have a situation on my hands. At least not with Zia. Nova, however? I had no intention of letting her get away…
I turned to her, and our eyes met again. The electric shock from across the room was nothing compared to the impact I felt now. I'd just been hit with the full force of a ninety mile per hour bullet straight to the heart.
And when she smiled...
I realized this moment might also be the beginning of the end.
3
Nova
Now
I waited for a sign, but I knew it wouldn't come. There was nothing normal about this relationship. If I could even call it that. We had sex. In the dark in the middle of the night. Almost every night since we'd met downstairs in the bar.
We didn't talk much, unless you counted the filthy words he uttered that made me come harder than I ever had in my life. Or the pleas that fell from my mouth when I hovered near orgasm and needed just a tiny bit more to get me there, and he wanted me to wait just a little longer.
And still I waited. Night after night for him to arrive.
The deadly precision with which he entered my suite without my notice never failed to impress me. I knew a little something about getting into places I was locked out of, and yet, he never gave away his secrets.
However, my instincts were screaming that his arrival was imminent. Not because he kept to a schedule, but because something in the air around me changed whenever he got close. My breath quickened, as did my heartbeat. Even the heat, which could often be unbearable in Vegas, enveloped me in a silky, sensual haze.
My gaze roamed the city below my terrace, unseeing anything beyond a blur of lights and color. For weeks, I have waited breathlessly for this moment, knowing that eventually it would have to come to an end.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I would welcome him to my bed and take everything he had to give.
"You're never on the bed like I request."
The deep, disembodied voice came from the dark behind me, making a shiver shudder along my spine. The heat that had gathered inside me from anticipation intensified. The longing for his touch created an ache in my breasts and between my legs I feared could never be squelched by another man.
"I never know when to be ready. It's not like we have an appointment."
My words were not bitter or resentful, just honest. What I didn't say is that it was impossible for me to sit still knowing he could arrive at any moment. Coming out here and looking out over the city that beat with a pulse like a living thing was one of the rare constants in my life. It had become a necessary ritual to calm me before any impending storm.
He was the fiercest one of all.
He said nothing else, and until I felt the warmth of his hand at my back, I wasn't sure he was still there. Words, however, were never necessary. The movement of his touch along my skin and the sensation of his lips at my shoulder were all the language I needed.
My life had become a whirlwind of obligation, work, and intense scrutiny. But it was these private nights between us that somehow made it all work together. The combination of danger, excitement, and release filled a well of need that enabled me to perform at peak perfection.
Now, I ached for more.
"Excuses," he muttered as his mouth latched onto my neck, forcing me to tilt my head sideways to give him better access.
I tried to think of some comeback that would make sense in the situation, but it was too hard to think with his hands and his mouth on my body. This man had a knack for bringing out a primal instinct in me that I seemed to have no control over.
I needed to give him everything, and I wanted to accept whatever he had to offer...
"I love this," I finally admitted.
He grunted his approval. "I can feel the war that you wage inside, your need to submit to my demands while your mind resists that urge at every turn. That's why you don't wait on the bed." He turned me in his arms and grasped my chin between his fingers. "But your body betrays you every time. That heat pulsing between your legs tells me more than your words ever could. There's no denial strong enough that would make me believe you don't want this."
I would never deny him.
Although those words would never fall from my lips. They couldn't. The one promise we had made to each other was the only one I could never break.
No strings. No commitment. Ever.
I had to keep reminding myself of that.
This time with him.
My time in this life.
It all had an expiration date, and it was coming sooner than I thought possible. Five years had sounded like an eternity when I was eighteen, but in reality, it had flown by.
So, I reminded myself again to keep my thoughts to myself. Because otherwise my confession would be far worse. I didn't just want him anymore.
I needed him.
And because of that, I would lie.
Even if it was a lie of omission.
When I didn't respond right away, I felt the subtle shift in his posture. The straightening of his body, the tightening of muscles. Without warning, he shoved my dress up over my hips.
I gasped as his fingers rubbed between my legs. Despite the panties that separated his skin from mine, he scorched me with a trail of heat at the subtle friction he created. My hips bucked, already desperate for more.
"Do you enjoy defying my requests?" He grabbed the edge of my panties and pulled, forcing the fabric tight between my lower lips.
"No, I—"
"That's fine. Here is as good a place as any to show you how that makes me feel."
The slight edge of panic filtered into my mind at what he was suggesting, but the beginning sparks of pleasure wiped away any fear or hesitation as he pulled harder on my now damp panties. The friction against my clit was both painful and so much more.
He reached between us, unzipped his pants, and pulled the heavy length of his cock out. I didn't know how to react. Part of me wanted to turn and drop to my knees and take him into my mouth so I could suck on him until he came, while the other part of me prayed he would bend me over and fuck me right where we stood.
"Good girls do as they're told. Don't they?"
I nodded my head, the frantic feeling inside me rising as sharply as my pending orgasm. I might have questioned how quickly he got me like this, but I wasn't that naive. He exuded power that called to the woman inside of me.
"But you aren't a good girl anymore, are you little one?" He pressed his dick hard against my panties, and if not for that thin strip of silk preventing him entry, he would have split me in half in one solid thrust. The emptiness, instead, made my legs tremble and sweat break out across my skin.
I needed him inside me so bad.
"Please, Sir."
His finger returned to my chin as he fed his thumb through my lips. "Oh, I know what you want, dirty girl. I just haven't decided if you've earned it yet or not."
By some miracle, I kept the needy beg from my lips, but
make no mistake, it was in my eyes, and I know he saw it. He seemed to see everything when it came to me. At least the important parts.
"I could fuck you right here. Would you like that?"
I frantically nodded, touching my tongue to his thumb.
His eyes widened and his hips bucked against me. For better or worse I knew I had him. He was powerful, but that did not make me powerless. Quite the opposite.
He could make all the demands he wanted, but it was always my choice whether to obey.
A second later, he dropped his hands, leaving me to cry out in my displeasure. I needed him to keep touching me. Especially when I was this close.
"Sir?" I asked.
"All right. Prove it, then. If you want that orgasm you’re chasing, then remove that dress where you stand, bend over, and grab the railing in front of you. Only then will I give you what you want."
I glanced around at the many nearby hotels that were as high as The Sinclair or higher. The streets below us were filled with people, as were the buildings that surrounded us. Anyone would be able to watch. It was dark and shadowy, but it didn't make us invisible.
"It's your choice, dirty girl. I'll give you what you want, and more, but only when you follow my rules. Since you have continued to break them, this is your punishment and your pleasure. Take it or leave it."
My stomach flipped and twirled. Neither punishment nor public sex should have me this excited, but this man did things to me I didn't know how to explain. And nothing he ever did seemed like enough. I always wanted more.
I slowly reached for the hem of my short dress, which he'd already half removed, and lifted it over my head. He grabbed it from me and tossed it on the chair. Thank God I'd changed. If he'd just thrown one of my originals as carelessly as that off-the-rack dress, I might have died.
"Now bend over and get into position."
My body shuddered at the guttural tone of his command. I didn't know if he was surprised I'd done it, or if he just needed this as much as I did. Either way, that need in his voice only heightened everything else.
