Nico
Minchia. Shit. My remaining doubts about the girl evaporate when I hear her crying. If I made a mistake, it’s a really fucking big one. Because I seriously don’t want to have to explain to my head of HR why I stripped one of our employees and held a gun to her head. In my bathroom. I’ve seriously gone off the deep end this time. The insomnia is fucking with me—making me paranoid and itchy. I need to get my little brother Stefano out here to help me run the place so I can sleep at least an hour a night. He’s the only one I trust. “Hey.” I make my voice softer. The girl’s standing under the spray of water, soaking her Harley Quinn pigtails and the pair of light blue satin panties she’s still wearing. Fuck if I don’t want to yank them right off her and see what’s underneath. I’m pretty sure she’s in shock, and who could blame her? I terrify my employees on my best days and that’s without tearing off their clothes and flashing a weapon. Her chest shudders as she lets out a silent sob and it gets under my skin, same way her sniffle did. Somehow, I don’t think undercover feds or any kind of professional would pee on my floor and cry in my shower. So yeah. I seriously fucked up here. I reach past her and shut off the water, soaking the entire arm of my suit jacket in the process. “Hey, don’t cry.” A better man might apologize, but until I’m one hundred percent sure there’s not something off here, I keep it in. I yank the shower curtain open, and pull her out to stand on the bath mat while I wrap one of the towels from the floor around her. Because she seems to still be in shock, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of her wet panties and tug them down her trembling legs. I must not be as depraved as I think, because I somehow manage not to look at what she keeps under them when I lower to a squat and grip her ankle to help her step out of the dripping fabric. I toss them in the garbage can. Earlier, I threw a towel over the place where she peed, and her eyes dart there now. I know she’s gotta be completely humiliated by it, but the truth is, she’s not the first person I’ve made piss themselves. I guess she’s the first female. The only one I’m sorry for scaring. She’s trying to stifle her sobs, which, of course, only turns them into snorts and choked gasps. Now I really feel like a first-class asshole. “Aw, bambina.” I grab the two corners of the towel, and pull her against me. Her wet skin dampens my suit, but all I can think about is how soft her lush, naked form is against my body. The exhaustion in my limbs ebbs, cleared by the flames of white-hot desire. “Shh. You’re okay.” She trembles against me, but her sobs quiet. “Did I hurt you?” She shakes her head, her wet pigtails splattering a drop of water onto my cheek. Her gaze tracks to it. A loose section in the front flops over her eyes. I shift my grip on the towel to one hand and use the other to brush the hair back from her face. “You’re okay,” I repeat. She blinks up at me with long-lashed blue eyes. I love having her up close and captive where I can study her better. She’s as beautiful as I originally thought, with porcelain skin and high cheekbones. It’s not just beauty that makes her special. There’s some other quality that makes her seem so out of place here. A fresh-faced innocence. Yet she’s not overly naive or young. She’s not dumb, either. I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t release her. I don’t want to. The heat of her body radiates through my damp clothes and crowds my mind with the dirtiest of thoughts. If I were a gentleman, I’d leave the room and let her get dressed, but I’m not. I’m an asshole with a hotel casino to run. And I still don’t know who the hell this girl is or how she ended up in my suite. And seriously, heads are going to roll for this. Even more because the girl suffered for it. Right. If my brain were working better, I might acknowledge I’m the only one who can take blame for that part, especially since I’m still holding her naked and captive. “It’s just a girl who looks like you doesn’t normally clean rooms in Vegas,” I offer as the lamest excuse ever. It’s true, though. I’m sure there are more girls like her out there. But I don’t see them around here. All I see are the fake-boobed hustlers trying to work some angle. The professionals. Women who use their bodies like weapons. And I have no problem with them. I’m happy to use their bodies, too. But this one—she’s different. Her full berry lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. I can’t keep my hands to myself. I run my thumb across her lower lip, trace it back and forth over the plump flesh. Her pupils dilate, giving me encouragement to keep touching. “A girl like you is usually on the stage—some kind of stage—even if it’s just a gentleman’s club.” Her eyes narrow but I don’t shut up. “Girl like you could make a shit ton selling herself.” Mary, Queen of Peace, I want to kiss the girl. I lower my lips but manage to stop above hers. A kiss would definitely not be welcome. I may be a scary prick, but I don’t force myself on women. “You know how much a guy like me would pay for a night with you?” This time I really went too far. She tries to yank back from me. I don’t release her, but I do lift my head. She presses her lips together a moment before saying, “May I go?” I ease back, but shake my head. “No.” It’s a decisive syllable, short and curt. She flinches. The dilated pupils narrow back to fear. I don’t like her afraid nearly as well as I like her trembling and soft, open to me, the way she was a moment ago. It’s a subtle distinction, though, because I do love the power position of having her here, at my mercy. “I still need some answers.” I back her toward the sink counter, then pick her up by the waist and plop her bare ass down on the cool marble top. The towel flaps open when I release her, and I get another eyeful of her perfect, full breasts as she scrambles to find the corners and pull it closed. I shake my head to clear the fresh flood of lust rocketing through me. My cock’s gone rock hard. I’m a man used to getting everything he wants, which usually includes women. The fact that this one isn’t available makes me want her even more. “Seriously,” I mutter. “I’d pay five large for a night with a girl like you.” Even as I say it, I know I’d never want her that way. I’d want to coax the willingness out of this one. And that’s my strangest thought yet. Because I never, ever spend time dating. “I’m not a prostitute,” she snaps, blue eyes flashing. Her anger pulls me out of my sleep-deprived fantasy. I blink several times. “I know. Just saying you could make a lot of money in this town.” I shake my head. What the fuck am I saying? I don’t want this girl to become one of those women. And she just wants to get the hell out of here. So I need to get back to my interrogation. “Who are you and why are you here?” She draws in a shaky breath. “My name is Sondra Simonson. My cousin, Corey Simonson, works here as a dealer. She got me this job in housekeeping while I wait for something better to open up.” She speaks rapidly, but it doesn’t sound rehearsed. And it has enough details to ring true. “Marissa is my boss, and I offered to help her clean the rooms up here because the regulars are out sick. Her kid got a concussion and she had to leave me up here by myself. All I did was clean.” She lifts her chin, even though her pulse flutters at a frantic pace in her neck. I wait for her to go on, not because I’m still that suspicious, but because I like hearing her talk. She babbles on, “I just moved here from Reno…I taught art history at Truckee Meadow Community College.” I tilt my head, trying to assimilate this new information. It only adds to the wrongness of this girl being in my room. “Why is an art history professor working as a goddamn maid in my hotel?” “Because I have terrible taste in men,” she blurts. “That right?” I have to work to keep from smiling. I lean my hip up against the counter between her spread thighs. When she blushes, I know she must be thinking about how close her pretty little bare pussy is to the part of me most eager to touch her. I’m even more fascinated by this lovely creature now. What kind of guy does an art history professor fall for? She swallows and nods. “Yeah.” “You follow a guy here?” “No.” She lets out her breath with a sigh. “I bailed on one. Turns out we had an unshared interest in polyamory.” I lift an eyebrow. She’s studying me right back, her blue eyes intelligent now that the fear is wearing off. “Let’s just say finding him banging three girls in our bed will be forever burned into my mind. So”—she shrugs— “I took our car and headed to Vegas. But karma got me because it got totaled when I arrived.” “How is that your karma?” “Because half that car belonged to Tanner and I stole it.” I shrug. “Whose name was on the title?” “Mine.” “Then it’s your car,” I say, like I’m the guy who makes the final ruling on all things to do with her ex. “So that still doesn’t explain why you’re in my bathroom.” Or maybe it did. My brain is still short-circuiting from lack of sleep. The real truth is probably that I don’t want to let her go. I’d like to string her up in my room and interrogate her with my leather flogger all night long. I wonder how that pale skin would look with my hand prints on it. Too much, Tacone. I try to pull back. The room swims and dips as my vision trails. Fuck, I need sleep. She blinks rapidly. “Because you won’t let me leave?” I was right. She’s smart. The corners of my mouth twitch. “Housekeeping is the only place I could get a job on short notice. I’d rather work as a dealer. Think you can hook me up?” Now she’s getting sassy. Funny, I don’t have the urge to take her down a peg the way I usually do with employees. Unless, of course, it involves her naked and at my mercy. Oh yeah. I already set that up. But the suggestion of her working as a dealer irritates the fuck out of me. I don’t know if it’s because she’d be ruined by Las Vegas in a month, or because I really want to keep her in my room. Cleaning my floors. Naked. “No.” She flinches because I say the word too hard. I’m definitely having a difficult time modulating my behavior. But she just shrugs. “Well, this is temporary, anyway. Just until I earn enough to get a new car and find a teaching job.” Okay, even not trusting my instincts, I think she’s who she says she is. Which means I have no good reason to keep her prisoner here. I step back and take another long perusal of her now that I know more about her. Seriously. I want to keep her. But considering the things I just did to her, she’ll probably quit the second she leaves my suite. I point to her crumpled dress and bra on the floor. “Get dressed.” Before I do or say anything else to traumatize the girl, I leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind myself.SondraWell. That was interesting. My knees wobble when I stand. What will he do now? Am I free to go? I pull on my clothes with shaking hands and zip my dress all the way up, even though he’s already seen my breasts.The wet panties are in the trash bin, so I go commando.I decide the best course of action is to hold my head high and march right out of there. Because there’s no way in hell I’m sticking around to finish cleaning his suite after what just went down. I grab the doorknob and take a breath. Here goes nothing.He stands in the hallway in front of my cart, talking on his cell phone. Blocking my exit.Damn.I catch my breath again at how scary-sexy he looks—the delicious way he fills the expensive suit, his thick, dark hair that curled up at the edges, the penetrating dark eyes.He ends the call and drops his phone in his suit pocket. “Your story checked out, at least for now. I’ll be digging further.” His dark eyes glitter but the menace I sensed there before has vanished.
SondraDean, Corey’s boyfriend, sits on the couch watching TV. “Hey, Sondra.” He looks a little too happy to see me.My stomach clenches, awareness of my pantyless state increasing. The guy has a habit of leering at me, and I’m afraid he’ll somehow figure out there’s nothing under my very short dress.“Hey,” I mutter.He gives me an up and down sweep of his eyes, lingering way too long on my breasts. “What’s up?”There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him about my crazy day. Corey, yes, but not him. Unfortunately, I don’t have my own room—I crashed on their couch—so there was nowhere for me to hide. Earning enough to put the deposit on my own place is my first priority, even over getting a car that runs.I go to my suitcase in the corner and grab a change of clothes before locking myself in the bathroom. Only then do I realize I still clutch the envelope from Mr. Tacone. I stick my thumb under the flap and tear it open. Six crisp hundred-dollar bills slide out with a note of paper.
SondraI take a shower and exit the bathroom, unsurprised to find Dean lurking just outside it, ostensibly in the kitchen. I haven’t figured out how to tell Corey I think her boyfriend’s a lecherous, no-good cheating asshole. I don’t have any proof—just the way he looks at me, and seems way more interested in talking to me or hanging out when we’re alone.Considering I’m a magnet for cheating boyfriends, I know the vibe.I usually make it a habit not to be around when Dean is at the townhouse without Corey, but Tacone’s guy drove me home too quickly. I try to make the best of it. “Hey, Dean. You feel like driving me to the grocery store? I got paid today.” For getting strip searched.This time when the memory of Mr. Tacone’s—Nico’s—large hot hands roaming over my body flashed back, the fear is gone. A brief fantasy flickers in my mind—him peeling my panties down my legs for a different reason...You know how much a guy like me would spend for a night with a girl like you?Five thousan
“You’re as sweet as you look, aren’t you?” His face darkens and he takes a step back. “You shouldn’t have come.” He shakes his head. “I figured you’d quit for sure.”Suddenly I’m suffocating under his disappointment in me, which mirrors my own. When will I ever smarten up? Bartenders who like to drop ecstasy and mafioso casino owners are bad news.As if he senses my change in mood, he reaches out and touches my shoulder. It’s a light touch—respectful. Nothing sexy or dominating about it. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Sondra.”The way he says my name makes my insides twist and wriggle. I didn’t expect it to sound so… familiar on his lips.“I’m glad you came back—even though I wish to hell, for your sake, you didn’t.”I shove my chin forward. “So which is it? You want me here or you don’t?”Suddenly I’m trapped against the cart, caged by the two steel bands of his arms. Tacone comes flush up against me, hard, muscular lines pressed against my curves. His cock bulges at my stomach. “I jerk
SondraCorey and I ride into work together the following week. I love when we work the same shift, but she hates it, because it means she’s working days, and she makes more money at night.It’s the first chance I’ve had to fill her in on the latest with Tacone, which is nothing.“So you haven’t seen him since the day he kissed you?”“Nope. The next day I went in and there was a fifty on the table. I left it. The day after that, he left a hundred-dollar bill with my name on it.”“You took it, of course.”I didn’t want to. I was afraid it would mean something. Like if I accept his money, I’ll owe him something later. Except I really can use the money. I need at least two thousand for a deposit and first month’s rent. And another three thousand to buy a car that runs.“Yeah. And then he left another one a couple days later.” I dig them out of my purse and hand it to her. “Here.”She shoves my hand away. “What’s that for?”“To go toward my share of the rent.”She rolls her eyes. “Save it.
SondraI 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 br
NicoI 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
SondraNico 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.Nico’s smile seems almost sad. “You’re so fucking sweet.” His hands roam up to my breasts. He lowers the zipper of my dress and pulls my boobs out of the bra cups. He pinches both my nipples at the same ti