Vegas Boss: A Mafia Hitman Romance Read online

  “I’m surprised,” she says, a faint smile crossing her lips.

  “I am too,” I say, and I silence her with a kiss. I put my hands to her face, cupping her head as I relish the feeling of her soft lips against mine, and I grind my cock against her skirt.

  The feeling of her skirt against me alone is enough to set me off. My cock is rock-hard and threatening to burst from my pants as I grind against her until her skirt is bunched up past her thighs.

  I reach down to her panties and tug them down. She thrusts her hips up to let me get them down past her knees, then off her legs altogether. Once they’re out of sight, I don’t even check to see where they ended up before I pull her whole body to the edge of the bed and shove my face between her legs.

  My grip around her hips is tight, and I don’t give her a single moment to prepare before I bring my face to her pussy.

  Her scent is heady and full of need, and I’ve never craved anything in my life like I’ve craved her. I let my tongue out and let it roll over the warm surface of her lips, and I taste that she’s almost ready.

  “I’ve been on your mind too, it seems,” I growl, and she tries to clench her legs around my head.

  “Fuck you,” she gasps, but there’s mirth in her voice, and I grin before I let my tongue touch her pussy again.

  I go deeper this time, then deeper, and each time I part her lower lips with my tongue, I feel her body responding to me sweetly. She twitches and gets hotter, her hips twist this way and that, and her legs squirm, but my hands have an iron grip on her. I let her move, but only enough that she knows who’s in control.

  Once I start really tasting the honey that she starts giving me, I can’t hold myself back. The tip of my tongue darts to her clit, and once it starts striking it, I don’t stop. I go again and again and again, pushing her soft lips apart to get to that sensitive nub that electrifies her every time I toy with it.

  It’s like I have a key to turning her senses up, and I’m relentless with it.

  It isn’t long before I feel her start to get tense, a tension that starts right above the nub I’m torturing and runs all the way up her abdomen.

  I tighten my grip around her hips, and she puts her hands into my hair to hold on tight as she arches her back.

  “God, god, Misha, ohhh!” Each word comes with a breath of pure desire, and each syllable pushes her closer to the edge. My tongue lashes out again and again until I feel the tension reaching its breaking point.

  Nicole tosses her head back, and her legs wrap around my head as she throws her own head back and lets out a long, desperate gasp of release. My face feels wet, and I my chest groans as I let out a long, low rumble.

  She hasn’t even finished coming when I stand up from her. She opens her eyes, panting and looking up to me desperately with pleading eyes.

  I kick my shoes off, and my pants come next. My cock sticks straight out, bulging and ribbed with veins that long to be inside her.

  I run my hand up and down my shaft, and I feel like a vessel that’s utterly full and ready to pour itself out. And the look in Nicole’s eyes tells me she’s more than ready to be that vessel for me.

  I crawl onto the bed on my knees, and she crawls back until she’s at the headboard — a large panel with a red cushion to pad it. She puts her arms over her head and holds on tight to the fake gold as I reach her, clasp her hips, and enter her.

  There’s no hesitation, no caution, and no inhibitions. I thrust myself up into her, raw, and she receives me like a welcome guest, slick and hot and wet as I remember her when she was Misty to me.

  She lets out a delighted sigh as soon as I’m inside her, but I silence that with a hot, fierce kiss as I start bucking up into her.

  My cock is swollen to the point that I feel like I could release at any second, all for her. The soft underside of my shaft runs smoothly against her wet insides, and I feel the tip of my cock grinding up against her in soft, sweet ecstasy. My whole body is coming back to life. Everything in this mountain of a body of mine feels like it hasn’t truly been out of jail yet until touching her.

  And I’m going to make sure she knows she’s mine.

  I start rutting into her like our lives depend on it. I’m holding nothing back. From the very start, I come in fast and hard, pounding her against the headboard in such a way that she gets shoved up against it with each thrust of my hips.

  Every sit-up I did, every minute of exercise in my massive body, it was all thinking of her.

  My hands work her hips as I thrust like a precise piston over and over again, but even so, she’s able to keep up, thrusting her own hips in tandem with mine. I get to know what she really desires, how much of her she wants me to take and ravish until we’ve had our fill of each other.

  And the way she’s moving, I know she has one hell of an appetite for me.

  My ceaseless thrusting starts to get her wound up again, and I feel her tightening around me. I start to let myself go without a second thought, and I’ve never wanted to release myself into someone so deserving and so passionate.

  My head is swimming by the time we’ve reached the peaks of our tension, like two bolts of lightning crossing. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s how fucked up my mind is after weeks on end without release, or maybe Nicole is just an astounding woman, but everything in my pounding body is working in perfect harmony and ferocity toward one goal: making her thrash and moan in ecstasy.

  And seconds later, that’s exactly what I feel.

  Nicole’s face goes red, her mouth falls open, and she loses her grip on the headboard as her whole body starts to shake and writhe. I hold her up and bring my lips to hers to kiss her passionately while she comes, and at the same time, I feel my balls tighten and fire run up my shaft as I start to release inside her.

  The feeling of our two bodies pulsing together, coming to that beautiful, higher state of mind in a shared orgasm is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. So much seed spills out of my cock, burst after burst, that I’m even surprised at myself. Our hearts are beating faster than ever before, and my whole body feels like it was made for this.

  We haven’t stopped thrusting. It makes my body burn, but it’s so sweet that nothing could stop me. Each thrust draws out our orgasms so much more, makes us both feel so relaxed and breathless that we could do it until we pushed ourselves past our limits.

  After what feels like an eternity, the white-hot passion dies down, and we’re left with just the sound of our breaths as our kiss breaks.

  My cock is still hard as a rock.

  I slide it in and out of her a few times, slowly, letting her feel me between her legs in this state of oversensitive afterglow. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and she breathes deeply, mouth hanging open.

  She looks like a masterful painting.

  “I missed you,” I confess in a dark, husky tone, and her eyes flutter open.

  “I missed you too,” she admits, shame and pleasure in her voice together as she smiles. She lets out a long sigh as I draw my cock out of her, and she slides under the sheets with me as we press ourselves into each other.

  My lips touch her cheek, and I reach down to rub her clit with two fingers to wind her down.

  She smiles, her body beginning to relax, a purr coming from her throat that’s cut off by a scream when there’s a sudden bang, and the room door crashes open.

  Nicole

  I instinctively grab the bedsheets coiled up at the end of the bed and yank them up over my mostly-naked body, ducking down and looking around for some kind of weapon. Anything at all I can wield against our attacker. I reach out and grab the bedside lamp, ripping the cord out of the wall in my haste to defend myself.

  Misha is on the exact same page, only luckily he has already pulled his boxers back on and is therefore able to quickly jump up into a fighting stance. All traces of the tender, passionate man he was a few moments ago have vanished, leaving only this well-train
ed warrior in its place.

  The door flings back against the wall so hard it makes the bed rattle, dust showering down from the ceiling like snow. It takes me a full few seconds to register what image is unfolding in front of me. The first aspect I notice is a gun. The round metallic holes of the barrel aimed straight at my face. I follow the long snout of the rifle up to the surprisingly feminine hands, the finger poised on the trigger with a manicured nail.

  And from there, my eyes roll up the plaid flannel-clad arms and narrow shoulders, the pale face of the marksman with one eye closed and framed with crow’s feet while the other squints through the sight of the rifle at Misha and me.

  Our attacker is smaller than expected, barely my height. She is thin and willowy, with a shock of shoulder-length auburn curls popping out at odd directions all over her head. Something deep inside me swells with nostalgia, with recognition of a figure I have barely thought about, much less visited in the flesh for many years.

  “Mom?” I gasp, lowering the lamp clutched in my right hand. Slowly, the closed eye opens and the woman pulls her face away from behind the rifle, still holding it up, pointed at us. At first she only squints and grimaces, as though she can’t trust her own eyes to tell the truth. Like she’s having some wild hallucination and is desperately trying to find her footing in this shaken-up, upside-down universe. Misha glances back and forth between us, even more confused than either of us combined, trying to put two and two together. He cautiously lowers his fists, but doesn’t relax completely. He steps closer to the bed, shielding me slightly with his arms.

  “What in the world,” she murmurs, her cinnamon-brown eyes going wide and her mouth falling open. She slowly lets the rifle fall down to rest at her side. She raises one hand to clap over her mouth, shaking her head in pure disbelief.

  “What’s going on?” Misha growls, looking at the woman in the doorway, then back at me. I shake my head, totally stunned to see this blast from the past. The woman standing in front of us looks somehow like a total stranger and yet so familiar and almost comforting that it makes me want to cry.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, wrapping myself more tightly in the sheets.

  She scoffs.

  “Me? What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here?” she retorts, throwing up her free arm in indignation.

  “Oh no, you do not get to be the one asking questions,” I shoot back, glaring at her.

  “I find you naked in bed in a brothel with some jacked-up thug and you want to act all high and mighty with me?” my mother quips. She puts her hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re on my turf right now, little lady, and you better start spilling.”

  “Your turf?” I scoff, getting up and hastily pulling on my shirt and skirt haphazardly, my anger starting to get the best of me. “Mom, this is a legal brothel. My friend used to work here years ago and I— wait, why am I telling you any of this? It’s not like you care.”

  My mother winces and looks away, her jaw tightening with anger and hurt. That comment seems to sting a little more harshly than I intended, and for a moment I consider taking it back and apologizing. But in the end, my stubbornness overrides any pity I feel for my mother. After all, she’s the one who abandoned me, not the other way around. I don’t owe her anything — not an apology, not an explanation, nothing.

  “You know that’s not true, Nicki,” she says softly. I feel myself inwardly flinch a little at the sound of her old nickname for me.

  “It’s Nicole. Or Officer Burns. Nobody calls me Nicki,” I reply, folding my arms over my chest. Misha lays a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. I glance up at him. He has a stony, detached look on his face. I can tell he knows not to interfere right now. This isn’t his battle, and it sure as hell isn’t really his business, but it’s still nice to have him standing behind me, just the same.

  My mother walks into the room slowly and I brace myself, though for what I don’t know. She strolls over and gently, carefully sets the rifle down on the corner table, then turns back to face me with an almost pleading look on her face. I instantly feel awash in a sea of guilt. She has always had that ability, to make me feel bad about my choices, even though god knows between the two of us, I’m not the one notorious for bad decisions.

  “Officer Burns,” she murmurs, feeling out the words. There’s a slight quiver to her voice, her cheeks going splotchy like they always have before she cries. It’s funny how so much time can pass, and yet I can still predict her movements as well as ever before.

  “Yeah. I’m a vice cop now,” I tell her flatly. I refuse to let her emotions infect me. I’m not going to let her decide how this conversation goes — if there is to be a conversation at all.

  “Just like your father,” my mother says, biting her lip. She hastily wipes at her eyes before the tears can fall. “I always knew you’d do something worthwhile with your life.”

  That statement makes my heart swell, but I force myself to stay aloof. She can so easily unravel me, but I won’t let her. Not this time.

  “Yeah. If only you’d been around to see it,” I remark, a little coldly.

  “You’re right. I screwed up, Nicki. Sorry. Nicole,” she corrects herself. She sighs, running a hand back through her messy curls. “I have made a lot of stupid-ass choices in my life. Too many to count. But leaving you and Samantha… well, that is the decision I most regret. I should have been there all this time. For you and your sister.”

  “Yes. You should have,” I agree firmly.

  My mother stares at me hard, as though she’s trying to soak up every little aspect of my appearance and demeanor, like she’s been starving for the sight of me for all this time. I wonder if she’s just trying to memorize my face so she can hold onto the image when we part. Which will probably happen sooner rather than later.

  I brought Misha here because I thought it would be a suitable place to hide out, but there’s no way we can make this work now. Not with my mother hanging around. Although I still have no earthly idea why she would be here in the first place.

  Almost as though she’s read my mind, she says, “I’m sure you are wondering why I’m here anyway. It’s a long story.”

  “I’m sure it is. But we don’t have a lot of time,” I lie. Truthfully, I have no clue where else we could go to lie low if we leave here. It’s not like I have a ton of safe houses tucked away just on the off chance that I end up hiding from the mafia or the law or whomever it is chasing after us and threatening our lives.

  Then it hits me: my mother doesn’t seem to know that Sam is missing.

  I can’t possibly leave here without telling her. But that kind of information isn’t exactly the lighthearted tidbit I can just drop on her without warning. She looks tough and capable, but I have a feeling this bad news will hit her pretty hard. I don’t want to completely decimate her.

  I have to ease into it.

  And that means I’m stuck here, at least long enough to catch up with my mother. It isn’t the most pleasant prospect, but it’s the right thing to do, and I know it.

  Damn my internal moral compass. Just once I would like to ignore my conscience.

  “You can’t leave just yet,” she pleads, taking a step closer. “I-I want to talk to you. Find out what I’ve missed out on. Clearly, I’ve missed a lot.” She looks pointedly at Misha.

  “Oh. This is kind of a new thing, actually,” I admit awkwardly.

  Misha steps up and offers his hand, still dressed in just his boxers. My mother’s face flushes pink as she shakes his hand, and I can tell it’s taking all of her willpower not to instinctively look him up and down, every inch of his gloriously powerful, chiseled frame.

  “Misha,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” Mom says. She leans around him to look at me, an expression of intense longing on her face. “You are so beautiful. And tough. I can’t believe how different you look,” she tells me quietly.r />
  “Well, it’s been a long time,” I say, shrugging. “Years.”

  “I know. And I hate that it’s been so long, sweetheart. I have messed it all up so many times I can’t even count,” she admits. “One thing is for sure. I have missed you every single day that we’ve been apart. I know you will never forgive me for walking out, but I just want you to understand how truly sorry I am. I hitched myself to the wrong guy, Nicole. I was stupid and grieving and reckless. Losing your father… well, it sent me spinning. And I guess after a while, I just spun out of control entirely. It took me a long time to find my footing again. And by the time I came back down to earth, I had already lost the two most precious parts of my life.”

  “I still don’t understand why you did it, Mom,” I confess, sniffling a little. “Why did you leave? I used to replay it over and over again in my head, trying to figure out what made you leave us. We needed you.”

  “I know, baby. I know that now. But at the time, I was so caught up in Darrell’s bullshit. He had me in a damn trance, Nicole. I was terrified of him. Terrified to disobey or disagree in the slightest. I was blinded by fear and grief. You know, I never got over losing your father. Sometimes I wake up and not remember for a moment that he’s gone. And then it hits me, and it’s like I relive the pain all over again,” Mom laments, a tear rolling down her cheek.

  “I turned to Darrell for comfort. I wasn’t used to being alone. I was a stay at home wife and mom my entire adult life up until the day your father died. I was so lonely that I made excuses for everything Darrell did. I put aside the bad things and amplified the good things. But you, you could see right through him from the very start. I think that’s why it hurt so badly. Because deep down, I knew you were right not to trust him. Every time the two of you argued, I could feel my heart ripping apart. I held us together as long as I could, but…”

  “In the end, you chose him,” I murmur. “He walked out, and you walked out with him. I was just seventeen, and I had lost my father and my mother. You know, I warned you. I told you that if you didn’t stay away from lowlifes like Darrell, you’d end up going the same way yourself. In the underworld, struggling to get by. Is that what happened?”