Chapter 3
The elevator ascends in silence. Tony stands close enough that his expensive, masculine cologne fills the small space. His presence makes the air thick and tense.
My fingers twist around my purse strap. I could stop this, but words form in my head and vanish before reaching my lips.
The doors slide open to reveal a hallway unlike the casino floor. Artwork hangs in expensive frames, and plush carpet swallows our footsteps. The recessed lighting creates soft shadows.
Tony’s hand is still on my lower back. The heat of his palm seeps through my dress, sending a current up my spine.
We stop at a door with a brass nameplate that says “Antonio Ricci - Private.”
He unlocks it and steps aside. “After you.”
The office steals my breath. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the Seattle skyline. A massive dark wood desk dominates the space. Italian leather furniture invites intimate conversation. A bar cart holds bottles I recognize from Robert’s collection—the kind that cost thousands.
The details tell a deeper story. A photograph on the credenza shows Tony shaking hands with a man who bears a striking resemblance to the state senator. A statue of Saint Michael, patron saint of protection and battle, stands on his desk. Whatever Tony manages, it’s more than just a casino floor.
“Have a seat.” Tony moves to the bar cart. “Drink?”
“Water’s fine.” My voice is steadier than expected.
I sit down and cross my legs while he pours two glasses from a crystal decanter. When he turns to face me, his eyes scan my body, taking in the slit in my dress that shows my thigh.
“So,” he says as he settles into the chair across from me instead of behind his desk. “We have a problem.”
My pulse quickens. “The fifteen hundred.”
He sips his water, watching me over the rim. “That’s a significant amount for most people.”
Three words would end this: I can pay. I don’t say them.
“It is.”
Tony studies me. “You walked in here looking wealthy. That dress, those shoes, the way you carry yourself.” His gaze travels up my body slowly. “But I’ve been in this business a long time. I know the difference between people who have money and those who just look like they do.”
The assumption lingers between us.
“You think I can’t pay.”
“Can you?”
A dark and dangerous thrill simmers in my veins. He thinks I’m someone else. Someone whose hair gets messy from life, not because I ran my fingers through it. Someone who takes risks because she has to, not because she’s bored.
I hold his gaze, letting the silence stretch. His eyes darken, and I realize he’s not just assessing my financial situation. He’s trying to figure out what I’m willing to do about it.
“What if I can’t?”
Tony’s mouth curves into that not-quite-smile. “Then we’d need to discuss alternative arrangements.” He sits back, but his eyes never leave mine. “I’m a reasonable man, Shannon. There are always...options.”
Heat pools low in my stomach. My black Amex card is heavy in my purse. One swipe would shatter his certainty.
Instead, I lean back in my chair and mirror his posture. “What kind of options?”
Tony sets down his water glass and leans forward, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “I’ll let you work it off...personally.”
“What does that mean?” I need to hear what he wants before I agree.
“It means you come over here and let me see if you’re as stunning without that dress as you are in it. It means you show me how much you want this.”
My panties grow damp. Fuck, I do want this. And the fact he thinks I’m willing to trade my body makes it hotter. I could do anything I want tonight, and clearly, my body wants me to be a slut who fucks the casino manager.
My thighs quiver as I stand and place my purse on the chair before moving in front of him.
Tony’s completely still except for his eyes tracking every movement. I reach behind me, finding the zipper at the small of my back. The slow rasp of it lowering fills the quiet office, and Tony’s jaw tightens.
The dress loosens around my body, but I hold it in place. Making him wait.
“Shannon.” His tone holds a warning, like he’s about ready to take control and rip my dress off me. Knowing he wants me makes me feel powerful.
I slide one spaghetti strap off my shoulder, then the other. The velvet clings to my breasts for a moment before I let it fall, the fabric pooling at my hips. The cool air hits my skin, and my nipples pebble beneath my black lace strapless bra.
Tony’s knuckles tighten on the armrests of his chair. My breathing speeds up, and all my nerve endings zing alive. He could shove me over his desk right now and fuck me hard. I’d just beg for more.
I shimmy my hips, and the dress slides down my legs, leaving me in nothing but my lingerie and heels. I step out of the crimson circle of fabric and kick it aside.
His eyes drag up my body—from my stilettos, over my thighs, lingering on the black lace barely covering my pussy, and up to my breasts before finally meeting my gaze.
“Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” Tony’s voice roughens.
My pussy throbs with each heartbeat. I’m nearly naked, while he remains fully clothed, yet I’ve never felt more in control.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, not moving from his chair.
I trail my fingers down my stomach, hesitating at the waistband of my panties. This isn’t me—Shannon Matthews doesn’t fuck strangers in casino offices. But tonight, I’m not that woman, and I can already tell I’m wetter than I have been in months.
“Now,” Tony growls.
My hand slips beneath the lace, and my fingers glide easily between my folds. I moan at the contact as a shiver runs up my spine. It’s been over fifteen years since I’ve fucked another guy, and knowing I’m going into this willingly makes me feel like such a slut. It’s glorious.
“Show me your pussy,” he says.
I hook my thumbs into my panties and slide them down my thighs. When I step out of them, I spread my legs and silently thank the universe that I recently waxed. I’m nice and tidy with a small patch of hair that does nothing to hide my pussy.
Tony rises from his chair with predatory grace. He circles me slowly, his gaze burning across every inch of exposed skin. When he stops behind me, his breath warms my neck.
“Your husband is a lucky man.” His fingers trace my spine, barely touching.
My breath catches. “What makes you think I’m married?”
His fingertip taps the pale line on my ring finger. “Experience.” His lips brush my ear. “Does he know where you are?”
I’m truthful, but I don’t tell him everything. “He knows I’m at the casino. He doesn’t know about this.”
Tony’s hand slides around to cup my breast, thumb grazing my nipple through the lace. “And he lets you play these games?”
“I’ve never done this before.” My voice is breathless, barely recognizable.
“Interesting.” Tony unclasps my bra, and it falls to the floor. “Turn around.”
I pivot to face him, my nipples hardening further under his intense scrutiny. His hand cups my jaw, thumb pressing against my lower lip.
“Open.”
I part my lips, and he slides his thumb into my mouth. I taste salt and skin as I suck gently.
“Good girl.” His approval sends a rush of heat between my legs. “Now, get on your knees.”
I sink down, the plush carpet cushioning my knees. My hands reach for his belt, but he catches my wrists.
“Not yet. Tell me what you want.”
My pussy clenches, and I practically moan, “I want to suck your cock.”
I never talk like this with Robert, but it feels right tonight.
Tony releases my wrists and threads his fingers through my hair, gripping firmly. “Then earn it.”
I unbuckle his belt, my fingers trembling with anticipation. The button of his slacks pops free, and I lower his zipper with agonizing slowness. His erection strains against black boxer briefs, the outline impressive.
I pull down both layers, freeing his cock. It’s thick and hard, jutting proudly from a nest of dark hair. A drop of pre-cum glistens at the tip.
My mouth waters. I lean forward, maintaining eye contact as I lick the bead of moisture from his head. His taste is salty and masculine.
“Fuck,” he hisses, his grip tightening in my hair.
I take him into my mouth, my lips stretching around his girth. My tongue swirls around his head before I slide down his shaft, taking as much as I can.
“Jesus Christ,” Tony groans, his hips jerking forward slightly.
I establish a rhythm, my hand working what won’t fit in my mouth. His cock pulses against my tongue as I hollow my cheeks, sucking harder.
Tony’s breathing grows ragged. “Stop,” he commands suddenly, pulling me off him. “Stand up.”
I rise on shaky legs. His eyes darken as he steps closer, crowding me against the desk. The heat radiating from his body makes my skin prickle with anticipation.
He cups my face with one hand, his thumb tracing my lower lip, still wet from sucking his cock. “You’re something else, Shannon.”
Before I can respond, his mouth crashes against mine. The kiss is nothing like Robert’s—it’s demanding, almost punishing. His tongue pushes past my lips, claiming me. I’ve never been kissed like this, and the realization sends a jolt straight to my core.
His lips break from mine and trail down my neck. His stubble scrapes against my sensitive skin as his teeth graze my pulse point. When he latches onto my neck, I gasp. He sucks hard, marking me, and my knees nearly buckle.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my fingers digging into his shoulders. The slight pain mixed with pleasure has my pussy throbbing. The thought of walking around with Tony’s brand on my skin makes me dizzy with arousal.
He pulls back to inspect his work, satisfaction evident in his expression. “Now everyone will see how much of a slut you are.”
The hickey throbs. Robert will see it. The thought should terrify me, but instead, it sends another rush of wetness between my legs.
Tony spins me around and bends me over his desk in one fluid motion. My breasts press against the cool wood, papers scattering beneath me.