Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
He shifts one of the hands on my ass to brush my crack and I jerk as a jolt of sensation sizzles through me.
My heart beats too fast, too hard. I’m too hot—I fear I’ll pass out from the steam and the sex. He keeps brushing the tip of his finger over my anus, and the sensation ignites me.
A low growl echoes off the shower walls and his movements grow jerky. He mutters a string of filthy curses—half in English, half in Italian. Then he roars and shoves deep, biting my neck as he comes.
At the same time, the bastard breaches my anus with the tip of his finger.
I want to hate it, but it’s too good. The sensation in my ass is awful and incredible. I go off like a shotgun, coming around his thick cock as his finger eases in a gentle pumping motion.
I choke on a strangled cry, my inner thighs squeezing hard enough to break his hips as my spasming channel milks his cock for any last fluid remaining.
And when it stops, I’m wrecked. A low sob comes from my throat. Tears sting my eyes, but it’s only from the release. From the incredible, life-changing, orgasmic release.
Tacone croons something in Italian and turns off the water. He carries me out of the luxury shower and drapes a towel around my wet back.
I hardly register what’s happening. My body’s gone limp and my mind hasn’t returned from my trip to outer space.
Nico lays me on my back on his giant bed and wraps the ends of the towel around my front. Then he flops down beside me. Before my brain clears of the fog stirring, his snores cut through the room.
I guess good sex is always the cure for insomnia.
Smiling, I ease away from him and off the bed, then find my clothes in the living room and get dressed.
I didn’t finish dusting, but I skip it. I’m pretty sure he won’t report me.
Actually, maybe he’ll punish me for it.
And that thought has me smiling even wider.
I push my housekeeping cart out. Tony, his beefy bodyguard, is coming off the elevator headed toward Nico’s room. “Is Mr. Tacone in there?” he asks.
“Yes, but he’s sleeping.”
Tony halts in his tracks, then turns back to face me with interest burning in his expression. He takes in my wet hair, my flushing cheeks. I ignore him, hitting the elevator button several more times.
Tony leans his back against Nico’s door. “You have something to do with him sleeping?”
I shrug, but can’t stop the smile playing around my lips. “Maybe.”
Tony shakes his head. I’m thinking he’s going to say something offensive, but instead he breathes, “Thank fuck.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I escape inside with my cart, eager to call Corey and tell her everything.
Chapter 7
Nico
There’s an actual spring in my step as I stride through my casino the next day. I slept sixteen hours and woke up with a boner hard enough to pound a nail. I didn’t let myself rub one out, either, because now that I’ve finally dipped my cock in Sondra’s tight little pussy, nothing else will do.
I knew it would be that way.
She’d better not run, because I’m not about to let her out of my clutches now.
First thing I did when I woke was make sure she hadn’t checked out of the suite I put her in. She hadn’t. And her employee name tag was sitting in the room, so chances were good she was there, still sleeping.
Everything seems to be in perfect order at the casino. Things went on without me. I stop at the business office to verify the income from the night before, and start to respond to the forty-seven texts I received while I slept like a bear in hibernation.
Meanwhile, I’m famished.
And somehow, I end up on the eighth floor, standing outside the suite where I put Sondra. I pull my keycard out.
I’m a first class asshole for not knocking. I’m definitely not acting like the gentleman my mamma raised me to be. But I can’t deny the pleasure it gives me—the sheer sense of power and ownership, to slip my keycard into the lock and open the door.
Sorry, bambina. I warned you I was trouble.
It’s another fucking wet dream, because I find Sondra in her panties and bra, standing at the mirror in the bathroom. Her head snaps up in surprise, but I don’t give her a chance to say anything, because I’m stalking toward her like a starving man headed for his next meal.
She’s an angel, her full lips parting in surprise, blue eyes wide but not frightened.
No, they’re trusting.
And that should bring my sense back enough to have some decency. To treat her with some respect and courtesy.
But instead it only fuels my power-crazed lust for her.