Corey

I end up going into work an hour early. Call me crazy, it’s like the Bellissimo is my addiction. Even after a weekend bender, I can’t stay away.

It has nothing to do with not being able to stay away from Stefano Tacone. Nothing at all.

My stomach’s still in a tornado over my dad’s visit. What if Stefano finds out? Should I confess it outright, the way I did about his job?

But no, then it really will seem like I’m a rat. I mean, I swore to him I have no contact with my dad and then suddenly he’s visiting me the minute I get home? It won’t look good for me. Like swimming with the fishes bad.

I walk in through the parking garage entrance and stow my purse in my locker.

“You’re early,” the floor manager, Mac, says.

“Yeah, I can start now, if you want. Otherwise, I’m going to hit the Starbucks before my shift.”

“You’ll do neither. Mr. Tacone said he wanted to see you in his office the minute you got in.”

My heart starts thudding hard. “Which Mr. Tacone?”

“Stefano. The new one.” Mac narrows his eyes at me. “Didn’t he pull you from the floor Saturday to deal a private game or something?”

My hands are clammy. “Uh, yeah.” I look past Mac, wanting to make my escape.

“Well what was it like?” he demands.

Really? This is what we’re doing now? Shooting the shit about private games? We aren’t even friends.

“It was fine. Kinda stuffy. I prefer the floor, if I had a choice.”

“Not sure you do. Whatever Mr. Tacone wants, right?” Now I think he’s leering at me, like he’s suggesting I slept with Stefano to get into the private games. If he only knew all the kinked-out crazy shit I did with Stefano, he’d have his chin on the floor right now.

“Yeah, well, I’d better get to his office, then,” I say, sidestepping around the guy and heading for the security offices.

My heart speeds up even faster as I walk, but I hold my head high. Whatever’s waiting for me there, I’ll face it. Maybe I can even talk my way out of it.

Or maybe he’ll take me as prisoner again. I wouldn’t even put up a fuss.

But no. I saw the cool precision with which Stefano Tacone drew a gun and fired at a guy, hitting him square between the eyes. He’s not going to fuck around if he thinks I’m a real problem.

I tap on his office door and open it a crack.

Stefano turns from where he’s leaning on his desk, talking down to one of the managers. There’s no wink. No smile. Just a hard look and a sharp beckon with his hand. “That’s it, Joe. Get back out there.”

Joe gets up and leaves. I enter.

Stefano locks the door. When he turns and stalks purposefully toward me, I have to work hard not to flinch.

Even when he snatches me up by the waist, I still can’t tell the difference between passion and violence.

But then it’s clear.

His lips are at my neck, breath hot against my skin. He deposits me at the edge of his desk and pushes me over it. “You’re so fucking lucky you came to work early.” His hands roam up and down my hips, sliding the fabric of my black mini-skirt up to my waist.

Shivers spread over my skin. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

He gives my ass a slap, then rubs away the sting as his other hand cups my mons. He slaps and soothes again, this time on my other cheek. I imagine the twin handprints he left and my pussy clenches. “Because if I had to watch you in this skirt all night without emptying my balls, the fucking you’d get at the end of the night would leave you incoherent.” He rubs his fingers over the damp gusset of my panties.

I squirm into his hand. The sex we had this morning feels like so long ago. Or it could be all the tension of seeing my dad and then thinking I was in deep shit with the Tacones is morphing into sexual energy. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s caught fire and is pooling in my core, peaking up my nipples.

He tucks his fingers under the gusset of my panties and strokes over my slick.

“What is this, Tacone?” I manage to pant. If I were smart, I wouldn’t let this happen. I think I half-expected we’d both pretend nothing happened.

He’s my boss. I like my job. This is a disaster waiting to happen.

He pinches my clit. “This is me bending you over my desk for a hard fuck.” He sinks a finger into my wetness. “Any objection?” A second finger.

I buck against his skilled touch. Yeah, refusing this isn’t an option. Not because I’m feeling coerced. Because I need everything he’s about to give to me. “No,” I choke.

“Good.” He works me over with his fingers, plunging them in me, rubbing my clit, slapping my ass. He keeps it up until I’m up on my tiptoes, thighs trembling with desire.

Then he drags my panties down to my thighs and unbuckles his belt.

For one brief moment, the fantasy of him whipping me with it flashes through my mind. I never thought I’d be into anything like that, but Stefano Tacone does it just right. My ass is still sore from the caning he gave me last night, and I still want him to spank me more.

But he’s not interested in punishing me tonight. He rolls a condom on and presses the head of his cock between my petals, parting me.

My teeth sink into my lower lip to stifle a moan.

He eases in slowly, filling me, inch by inch.

I hollow my lower back, encouraging him to sink in deeper.

He tortures me by reversing direction, nearly coming all the way out before he pushes in, a little farther this time.

All I want is for him to spank me and use me roughly. Like a cheap Vegas whore who isn’t worth anything more than her perfect Vegas body.

And I never let myself get used.

Ever.

But Stefano was right. Being tied up set me free. And now he doesn’t even need duct tape or zip-ties for me to soar. My body responds to his commanding touch. I let him bend me over and tap my ass because it feels dirty and wrong and perfectly right at the same time.

He slams in harder and my hip bones grind against the hard wood of the desk. I brace my hands on the edge of the desk, try to hold my hips away. Stefano must see my dilemma because he slides his arm around the front of my hips and uses it to cushion my pelvis.

The position puts him closer, makes this thing less demeaning. More intimate.

I can’t decide if I like the change, but then he’s pushing up into me with short, hard thrusts. My breasts bounce with each tormenting stroke, breath strangles.

“Ask me for permission to come.”

“You ask me,” I counter, just to be contrary. Just because I’ve already given way too much of myself up in this exchange.

He pinches one of my nipples and twists, making me gasp. One finger of his other hand settles over my clit and he rubs roughly. “If you come without asking, you’re going to be dealing tonight with a hot, throbbing ass.”

And that almost makes me come. “May I?” I blurt out because I seriously don’t think I can hold it back.

“Come, bella. Come all over the cock that owns you.”

And that was why I didn’t want to beg. I really shouldn’t let this man talk to me this way. But I’m already coming, my pussy squeezing and releasing his cock, milking it.

“You’re an asshole, Stefano Tacone. How do you say asshole in Italian?”

“Still your boss, bella.” He grips my hips and slams into me, slapping my ass with his loins, making his belt rattle in his dropped pants. He fucks me like a champion until he, too, finds his peak and crests it. Then he slams deep and stays there.

“Stronzo.”

“What?”

“Stronzo is asshole in Italian. But I’m not giving you permission to call me that.” He pulls out and tosses his condom into the wastepaper basket. I shudder, thinking every employee who comes in here tonight is going to see it.

He tucks his dick away and buckles his pants, then replaces my panties and skirt. I turn around and he picks me up by the waist and sits me on the desk. “You got a problem we need to talk about?”

I flush. No, other than that I’m shaky and vulnerable from the demeaning sex and I want to be held. But that’s not going to happen because Stefano isn’t my boyfriend, he’s my boss. And we weren’t making love, we were fucking. Over his desk. Right before my shift. So I need to pull my shit together and waltz out there in my stilettos to deal some cards.

He brushes my hair back from my face and cups one cheek, studying me.

My face heats some more.

“I am an asshole. For sure. But I mean no disrespect. I really don’t.”

I believe him. Maybe I was feeling disrespected for a minute there, but it was my own shit. My own fantasy of being used by him became a fear as well.

Still, I need to get the hell out of this office.

“I missed you today, that’s all.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb.

Goosebumps raise on my skin. He had to go and say that?

Someone knocks at the door and I try to hop off the desk, but Stefano won’t let me. “Not now,” he calls out sharply.

He pulls a keycard out of his pants pocket and tucks it in the inner pocket of my cropped dealer’s jacket. “I would love to find you in my bed when I go to my suite tonight.” He catches my surprised glance and holds it. His dark brown eyes are warm pools I want to dip into.

“You’re giving me the key to your suite?” It strikes me as pretty trusting, although there’s probably nothing to steal except for his thousand dollar suits.

“I promise handsome rewards.”

“Handsome, huh? Does that mean you?” He flashes his movie-star worthy grin. “Only if you want it to.”

So I do have a choice this time. No coercion, just an offer.

And it’s one I just might have to accept.

Stefano

It might be time to admit I’m obsessed.

Corey Simonson got under my skin in a big, bad way. I watch her all night—the deft movements of her hands with the cards and chips, her confident handling of the bettors. She charms them all: men, women, old, young. They pick her table because she’s beautiful and they stay because she’s magnetic.

And I want that magnet turned my way.

Forever.

I gave it about a forty percent chance Corey would be in my suite when I went to bed at 3:00 a.m. Usually when I want something I go after it, all guns blazing. But now is not the time to pressure Corey Simonson. Now is the time to give her some space, let her choose on her own. I know she’s attracted to me. I know she likes the sex. But she doesn’t like being pushed around. And I’ve already treated her to plenty of that.

Still, it nearly killed me not to seal the deal when her shift was over. I didn’t even follow her, or send someone else to follow her. I just let it ride.

The minute I come into my suite, I know she’s there. I don’t know how—her scent? Or just her energy? It doesn’t matter. I know. My nostrils flare with satisfaction. I kick off my shoes and tread softly into the bedroom. She’s curled up on her side, her hair falling back from her face and pooling on the pillow behind her.

I tug the sheet down, gently.

She’s naked. Grazie Dio. I love this woman. She was fucking made for me.

I shuck my clothes and climb in beside her. My dick is hard but I’m not going to wake her. It’s enough to know she’s here. She chose to be here this time.

That’s all that matters.

I fit my body around the back of hers and drape an arm over her waist, resisting the urge to cup her breast. If I go there, all bets are off. I’m going to be pinning her to her belly and thrusting until the sun rises.

She mumbles something that ends with my name.

I fucking love hearing her say it in her sleep.

“What’s that, bella?”

“I’m sleeping with the boss,” she mutters on a laugh. “Big mistake, isn’t it?”

My chest tightens. “Is it, doll?” I nibble her ear. “I thought you liked veering off the main road.”

Her eyelids flutter and lips tug into a smile. “Mmm.” She falls back asleep, but I’m glorying in the smile.

Because I know I said the right thing. I might be the wrong guy—a Tacone. Trouble. But she didn’t want ordinary. She prefers exciting.

I can be all that, and more for her. All that and more.