King of Diamonds: A Dark Mafia Romance (Vegas Underground Book 1)

by Renee Rose

  “Fuck you.” I squeeze my eyes shut, because I really shouldn’t talk to my brother that way, and if I don’t de-escalate things, I’m going to be pulling my balls out of my ass. “Listen, J—I’m sorry. That was disrespectful. I didn’t mean it.”

  Junior makes a sound in his throat.

  “You’re happy with the way I run things here, right? I make La Famiglia a lot of money, no?” There can be no doubt of his answer. I make four times what all their illegal operations make in Chicago, and everything I do here is on the up and up.

  He makes another affirmative sound.

  “So please trust me on this. I’m sorry I was being a prick. I get too used to being my own bossman here. But I know what’s gonna work in my city. Cocaine dealing is too risky. Too dominated by the Latin American gangs. And it could threaten everything I have going here, ah?”

  “You’re being a pussy.”

  I have to work to keep my temper in check. I don’t dignify his taunt with an answer.

  Junior waits another moment, then he says, “We’ll talk about it when I come out there.”

  I stiffen. “When is that?”

  “Next week. Ma wants to move out for the winter. Says she misses you too much. I figure I’ll come along and find her a house.”

  I’m about to snap that I can find her a house, but I manage to put a cork in it. He wants to come here and throw around his weight. I’d better get my head on straight before he gets here. Keeping his shit out of Vegas is my number one priority.

  Sondra

  I take the elevator up to the top floor. Something makes me try Tacone’s room first—some sixth sense he’ll be there this time. I knock on the door, but hear nothing. So much for intuition.

  I key myself in and get to work.

  It’s empty, as it’s been the past week. A crisp fifty dollar bill lays on the table with a note and my name. At this rate, I’ll earn enough to move out of Corey’s by the end of the month.

  Which, considering what she told me about Dean’s interest in a threesome, is even more necessary.

  I leave the bill on the table until I finish. It’s for a job well-done and I’ll make damn sure I do my best before I take the money. I clean the bathrooms and bedroom and head into the study. I end up in the office last. Because Marissa was paranoid about it, I stay way the hell away from the desk, dusting the book cases, emptying the trash and vacuuming. Noticing a spider web in the upper corner of the window, I grab the broom to swipe it. And that’s when the other end of the broom knocks over something on Tacone’s desk.

  I jump and whirl to see coffee spilling across the papers.

  Oh shit.

  Crap, crap, crap.

  I run for my rags, and come back, mopping things up as fast as I can. But it’s too late. Half the papers on his desk are soaking wet, stained brown.

  What should I do?

  I separate them and lay them out individually to dry, trying not to look at the contents. I’m not supposed to be seeing this stuff.

  “What the fuck?”

  A little shriek leaves my lips and I knock the now-empty coffee mug over again.

  Tacone looms in the doorway, his hulk more menacing than ever. His eyes glitter black, a muscle jumps in his jaw.

  “Oh God…” I right the coffee mug again. “I’m so sorry. I knocked over your coffee and got it all over everything. I know we’re not supposed to touch the desks—I definitely didn’t plan to, but…”

  Tacone walks closer, suspicious eyes sweeping the desk, the floor, my body, the room. He still has bags under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping.

  “I didn’t look at anything—I swear.”

  In a flash, he wraps his large hand around my throat from behind, loosely cupping the front of my neck. He pulls me back, so my ass bumps into his legs. “What did you see?” His voice is low and dangerous, but the hand on my neck is more a caress than a threat, especially when his thumb strokes lightly along my pulse.

  I close my eyes. “Nothing,” I croak. “I saw nothing. I swear.”

  “Nosiness won’t be forgiven, Sondra.” His voice is pure sex. Total seduction. His breath feathers hot across my ear. The hard muscles of his body press against my softer form. “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Yes.” It comes out as a half-moan, half-gasp, but not because I’m scared. I’m totally turned on.

  Tacone’s other arm snakes around my waist. His hand splays flat across my belly, inching down. “Your only sin is clumsiness?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He likes that I call him sir. I don’t know how I can tell, but I know he does.

  Zingers of electricity run through my body, lighting it up from the inside, and I swear I sense the answering charge from his cells. My panties are beyond damp—they’re soaked.

  “I guess that only calls for a little correction.” He nips my ear.

  My heart thuds, probably so hard he can feel it through my back.

  “Put your hands on the desk.”

  My belly flips. Oh my lord, is he going to spank me? A shiver runs through me. He’s excited too. His cock presses into my back, and his breath rasps in and out as fast as mine. He releases me and steps back and I obey, bending to rest my palms flat on the desk in front of me.

  I hear a deep rumble of approval behind me. His two hands grip my hips and he pulls, angling my butt even further back. He slowly slides his hands down the fabric of my skirt, caressing my curves before he releases me. “I’ll let you keep your uniform on.” His voice is impossibly deep. “Only because this time, if I take that zipper down again, I won’t hold back.”

  The floor tilts and a wave of dizziness floods through me and then I slam back to reality when his palm crashes down on my ass.

  Smack.

  I gasp and list to the side automatically, but then I put myself back in position. I hold still for his punishment.

  “Mm. I knew this ass would be spankable,” he rumbles.

  He slaps the other cheek. Hard. I have to close my lips against the squeak that rises in my throat. Another slap, and another. It’s a little too much, but just when I’m about to protest, he starts rubbing my offended cheeks, massaging away the sting.

  I pant, my pussy clenching, heart tapping out a rapid beat.

  Tacone strokes down my hip until he reaches bare thigh. He starts to slide up my leg, under the uniform skirt, then stops, and pulls my dress hem lower. “You’d better get back to work before I take this way too far.”

  Uhhh…what? I’m way too horned up to just pull my dress down and get back to work. In fact, the very idea of it pisses me off. If a female could get blue balls, I’d have them. My clit throbs, my nipples are hard, sensitive points.

  I lift my torso and whirl around to confront him. Before I can speak, he catches me at the nape and holds me captive for a kiss. Hard lips twist over mine with a bruising intensity. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, nips it. His tongue sweeps between my lips.

  I mewl and kiss him back, grateful for the desk supporting my ass, or I would fall down.

  “Bellissima,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

  No need, my wanton inner slut moans.

  But with a pained look, he releases me and steps back. “Go on.” He turns me and smacks my ass in dismissal.

  A storm of emotions flood through me—humiliation mingling with lust and turning into white hot anger.

  Okay. He wants to toy with me?

  Fine.

  Two can play at this game.

  Nico

  I sit down at my desk and try not to watch the very turned on, angry woman strutting through my suite.

  It seems I’m destined to be inappropriate with Sondra Simonson. Keeping my hands off her is an impossibility. I tried to stay away—Madonna, I did. But here she is, surrendering to me again with that same scared-but-turned on vibe that drives me crazy.

  I never paid much attention to my thing for dominating women. />
  Oh, I like to be in charge—no doubt about that. But that just means I call the shots. It’s why I normally use professionals who do as I say without question. But none of them ever tremble and gasp like Sondra. None of them have had a genuine response to me. None of them flash that fury she just did for not following through.

  If she only knew I’m trying to do a kindness by releasing her. I shouldn’t have spanked her in the first place.

  But that ass!

  That juicy, spankable ass.

  And the adorable little sounds she made when I smacked it.

  I give my cock a hard squeeze through my trousers and watch Sondra’s hips sway as she sashays past my door with a dust cloth. Her lips are swollen from our kiss. I still taste the sweetness of her on mine. Like strawberries and green tea. I want to taste her everywhere.

  It was all I could do not to pull out my cock and give it to her hard and fast right here, over my desk. That will teach her not to spill coffee on my papers.

  Fuck. I’m losing my mind.

  One small part of me still worries she’s not legit. But she has to be. I researched the hell out of her. By all appearances, she’s an innocent, middle-class beauty from Marshall, Michigan. She was a straight A student who graduated magna cum laude from a small, private liberal arts college, and then went on to get a Master’s degree in art history from the University of Wisconsin. Her parents still live across the street from her cousin Corey’s mom. Now, Corey’s dad is a fed. That came out when we hired her. But she appears to be estranged. And she’s worked for us for almost a year without any suspicious behavior.

  I couldn’t unearth a single lie or reason for concern about Sondra, unless I count her ex-boyfriend, who appears to be a small-time ecstasy dealer in Reno. But she did say she has bad taste in men.

  Sondra positions herself at my bookcase, giving me a front row seat to her backside, which is so lovingly cupped by her uniform dress that I want to send a huge bonus to whoever on my team picked out that particular style.

  She wiggles her ass as she flicks the dust cloth across the wood.

  Oh God. Is she doing that on purpose?

  She bends at the waist to dust the shelf in front of her. When she drops to her hands and knees and arches her back to dust the lowest one, I’m sure it’s all for me.

  My control, already a frayed wire, snaps. I surge up from the desk and stalk around to her.

  “Is that little show for me, piccolina?” I hardly recognize my voice, it’s so gravelly.

  She looks over her shoulder with mock innocence.

  That’s what undoes me—those big baby blues blink with total sex kitten appeal.

  She’s wearing her hair back in a messy bun today and I wrap my hand around it and pull her up to her knees. I’m already on my knees on the floor behind her, but I don’t remember getting there. I wrap my arm around the front of her and cup her mons possessively, still forcing her head back against my shoulder.

  “Are you trying to drive me crazy, Sondra Simonson?” I rub over her slit and find her panties already damp with arousal. “I don’t think you understand what you’re about to unleash.” My fingers slide under the gusset of her panties to make contact with her wet flesh.

  She lets out another of those gasps that drive me insane.

  “I understand.” I put my lips up against her ear and speak as I rub a slow circle around her swollen clit. “It wasn’t fair of me to spank you without giving you a reward, was it?”

  She moans.

  I screw one finger into her wet channel.

  I release her hair and move my hand to slide in the zippered opening of her dress.

  She’s already shaking and bucking, ready to blow.

  “I ought to fuck you until your teeth rattle for getting me so horned up.” I curl a second finger into her and pump lightly. “But I suppose I owe you this release, don’t I?”

  Her pussy is so juicy and responsive, my eyes are rolling back in my head. And that’s just from fingering her. I will really lose it if I put my cock in this girl.

  “Are you going to let me make up for scaring you the first time we met, bambina?”

  Her only answer is a breathy moan.

  I pull my fingers out of her and swat her pussy. “Are you? Answer me with words, baby.”

  “Yes!” There’s surprise and annoyance in her voice and more than a little desperation. It makes me smile.

  “Good girl.” I tap her clit. I’m dying to taste her, especially now that I’ve decided it’s my duty to reward her. I let her go and put my hands on her hips, applying a little gentle direction. “Crawl over there to the couch, baby. I need to get these panties off you.”

  There’s zero hesitation. She’s totally and completely mine. She obeys without a hint of embarrassment, crawling to the couch, then stopping and turning, probably to see how I want her. Fuck, this girl makes me crazy.

  I push her torso down on the seat of the sofa and pull the skirt of her dress up. This is how I wanted her before. Ass bared for her spanking.

  I yank her panties down her thighs and she scrambles to kick them off. Only a few red splotches remain from where I slapped her before. I don’t hold back. I spank her ass, the loud crack of my hand against her bare flesh echoing through the room. I lay five hard slaps down, then stop and rub.

  I can tell by her gasps it hurt, so I lean over and kiss each cheek. “You okay, baby?”

  “Um…”

  “You want more, or was that enough?”

  She’s quiet for a moment and I’m suddenly sick to think I took it too far, but then she says in a small voice, “A little more.”

  “That’s my girl.” I give her three more, then rub her pink skin. I definitely want to fuck her now. And I mean fuck her in the dirtiest, nastiest way. Like hold her by the hair and bang into her until she screams for mercy.

  But I’m not going to.

  I promised her a reward, and I intend to give it.

  “Sit up on the couch and spread those sexy thighs,” I direct.

  She scrambles up to comply and I get a good look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed. Her hair is messy with a just-fucked look. It’s a picture I’d love to see every goddamn day for the rest of my life.

  But that’s not an option.

  Rein it in, Nico.

  I can’t have this girl. I mean, I could. I’m Nico Tacone, owner of The Bellissimo, capo of the Tacone crime family of Chicago. I can take anything I damn well please.

  But I can’t.

  Not this girl.

  She deserves a real man. Someone she could marry and have art historian babies with. Not a crime boss who’s been pledged to another since birth.

  I push her knees wide and get an eyeful of that pink heart I’ve been fantasizing about.

  Gotta taste.

  I reach my hands under her thighs to palm her ass and pull her closer, right up to my mouth.

  The moan she lets out intoxicates me. I take one long, slow lick, parting her labia as I travel upward, toward her clit. She jerks the moment I make contact with it and makes a needy, whining sound.

  “Is that where you want me, baby?”

  She threads her fingers through my hair. “Y-yes, please.”

  I flick her clit repeatedly with the tip of my tongue. “So sweet. You taste so good, baby. And you asked so nicely.” I flatten my tongue and take another long sweep, then make it pointy and penetrate her. Her juices leak onto my tongue, tangy and slick. I control her pelvis even more, lifting her so I can lick her anus, too.

  She squeals, but I hold her thighs apart so she can’t clamp them closed, can’t get away from the torture of pleasure I want to bestow on her. I nip her labia, suck them. I know I could get her off, quick. She’s already gearing to blow, but the longer I hold her off, the bigger her orgasm, and for some reason, I’m feeling competitive, like I want this to be the best fucking orgasm of her life.

  Maybe because I know I can’t keep her.

  And
I really want to fucking keep her.

  I screw one finger into her while I flick her clit. She wriggles over it, trying to take me deeper. Greedy little thing. I add a second finger, close my lips around her tiny bud and suck.

  She screams, but I back off, releasing her clit and pumping my fingers.

  “Oh,” she pants. “Please. Oh please, oh...N-Nico.”

  I fucking love that she said my name, even more than I loved when she called me sir earlier.

  I especially love her moaning my name in that incendiary breathy fuck-me voice. I slow the pumping motion and instead curl my fingers to tickle her inner wall, seeking her G-spot. Her eyes fly wide when I find it, something akin to panic flaring. She writhes her pelvis on the leather couch. I pump my fingers so I hit the G-spot every time and she shrieks, her fingers tearing at my hair.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

  Her juices leak all over my fingers and her pussy squeezes, pulsing her release out in quick flutters. I let her finish, then massage her pussy with my fingers, a slow in and out and around, stirring inside her, then pulling my fingers out and sliding them up and down her slit. She shudders out another release.

  She looks beautiful. Her blonde hair fans out around her on the couch, messy and adorable. Her eyes are glazed, lids heavy.

  My cock throbs.

  But I can’t do it.

  Sondra

  Nico stares at me like a starved animal, appearing almost pained with desire. He eases his fingers from me and rubs circles on my inner thighs with his thumbs. I’m boneless with the pleasure of my orgasm. Even without intercourse, I have to say it was the best climax I’ve ever had. Everything about the encounter made it hot, starting with the lead up of Nico strip searching me the day we met, then spanking me, then this. Combine that with Nico’s considerable skill and genuine interest in my pleasure, and I’m doubting this sexual experience will ever be beat.

  And considering he hasn’t been satisfied yet, I don’t think it’s over.

  How much better will it get?

  “Th-thank you,” I say when my voice returns to me. My throat’s sore from crying out, which isn’t something I normally do.