Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Of all the casinos in Vegas, you picked ours. It feels a little personal, doll. Was it?”
I should’ve expected this question and had an answer, but for some reason, it takes me by surprise. I can’t hide the truth from my expression or make an answer come quickly enough to sound legit.
“No.” My voice has a warble to it.
He tips his head to the side. “There are consequences for lying to me.” The threat rolls off his tongue easily. Silkily, even. I swear, the doms at the dungeon should take lessons from this guy.
“So it was personal. You live in Chicago—our city. You have a beef with one of us?” He watches my expression, which I try very hard to keep blank. “Which one? My father? You’re a little young for that.”
His father—Don Tacone—is in jail. Has been for the last ten years or so. I know that much from my research. The truth is, I don’t know which Tacone did it or gave the order. I just know they’re responsible.
I shake my head. “No beef. I just knew of your family from living here and how you’d expanded into the casino business in Vegas.”
He doesn’t move, just watches me, and I know he knows it’s bullshit. Interesting that he doesn’t follow through on the threat of consequences.
It actually frightens me more. Another whipping I could take. A little torture.
Not knowing what he’s thinking chills me to the core.
“I have to pee.” It’s not a lie. But I also desperately need to get away from his close scrutiny.
He remains still, studying me for a moment longer, then stands up from the chair. Without a word, he scoops me into his arms, then tosses me into the air to shift me into the ignominious sack of potatoes position over his shoulder. And of course, his hand slaps down on my ass.
It does all kinds of exciting things to my body.
I channel the tingles, the kick of lust at being so easily manhandled by such a large, capable, dangerous man into figuring a way out of this. I could grab a razor from the shower to use on him.
But I know that’s stupid. A man with big ham hands like him could fight me off with his little finger, even if I did have a sharp blade. Escape would be a better option. I just need to get my ankles free to run.
Are there scissors in the bathroom? I look around desperately when he puts me down, but I already know there’s nothing there. My apartment may be messy, but I’m the type who knows exactly where everything is in the mess.
No scissors in the bathroom. Maybe nail clippers.
My hitman tucks his thumbs in the waistband of my yoga pants and drags them down my thighs. After what he’s already done, it shouldn’t make me blush, but it does. There’s something even more intimate about peeing on a toilet in front of someone than sucking his cock.
He lowers me to sit on the toilet and stands right over me, arms crossed.
Okay, getting the nail clippers out of the drawer may not be possible with this level of supervision.
Fuck!
I stare up at him for a moment. My nipples are hard.
“I thought you had to pee.” His voice is a deep, authoritative rumble.
“It’s hard when you’re staring at me! Can I have a little privacy, please?”
“No.”
Damn. I look away, finding a spot on the floor to concentrate on, because it wasn’t a lie. I can’t seem to break the seal. I inhale slowly. Hold my breath. Exhale.
Mr. Tacone doesn’t move. I draw back my bound wrists and bop him on the leg. “You’re enjoying this a little too much, don’t you think?”
I see that glimmer of a smile. “Definitely.”
I huff, but the exchange normalized things enough for me to pee. My body relaxes and I’m able to let it out.
I look up at him with a challenge. “Could you hand me some toilet paper? I can’t reach.” I twist and jerk my arms and feign pathetic.
I don’t know why I’m trying to annoy him— just to take a little power back, I guess, but he seems far more amused than annoyed. He rolls up a ball of toilet paper and presses it into my bound hands.
It’s freaking hard to wipe and takes me a few tries, but I manage and stand up.
He pulls up my pants and I fall into him, my bound hands grabbing a fistful of his crisp shirt as he bands one strong arm around me. He smells clean and masculine. I would’ve figured him for the heavy cologne type, but all I detect is the light scent of soap and the smell of his skin.
He heaves me easily over his shoulder again. “All right, Caitlin. Back to the bed for you. We have time to kill before I can move you. Time enough for you to spill all your secrets.” He dumps me back on the bed.