Chapter 13
PRIEST
“Where are we?” Luna asks, sounding adorably befuddled.
It’s a welcome change from the choked-up fear that laced her sultry voice earlier.
She might be Tomasso Revello’s daughter, but it’s more than clear she’s been raised isolated from the violent world that was her father’s playground.
I knew that, of course. I’ve done my digging on her.
But there’s looking at facts on a screen or hearing them listed off by one of my men, and then there’s actually experiencing her.
She’s tough when she needs to be, but Luna is all smooth and soft around the edges.
She’s not accustomed to this kind of life.
I doubt she’d ever even seen someone else’s blood until her father’s shooting.
Scraped knees and elbows, yes, but real wounds?
Never. She’s been too sheltered. Spoiled and treasured and sent away to school, far from the ugly stains of our world.
“You’ll see,” I tell her, releasing her hand to find the switch I’m in search of.
One press, and the glass panels before us illuminate, bringing to life the world below.
“Oh,” she breathes.
And I understand the wonder in her voice.
Because we’re in an office that overlooks the main floor of the casino, two floors up.
Under us is a hive of activity. People and servers and dealers everywhere.
Slot machines whirring, lights flashing, blackjack tables, roulette, the curl of cigarette smoke that we don’t have to smell.
This massive main office shares an HVAC system with the safe house below, separate from the casino’s nicotine-coated ductwork.
“Can they see us?” she asks next.
“No. To them, this is nothing but part of the decor. Basically, where we are is like taking in the fun and games of the boardwalk, only without the sea gulls shitting on your head. We can watch, but we don’t have to hear the slots or smell the cigarettes.”
“Are we in a casino?”
“Give the lady a drink.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “ Are there drinks in this place?”
I like seeing the anxiety fading from her. It feels good, even if I don’t want it to.
I turn from her and move to a built-in wine rack and refrigerator below the marble bar, distracting myself. “Of course. What’s your poison?”
“You have any wine?”
“What kind of a question is that?” I quip, and for a hot second, it’s easy to forget that we aren’t just a regular couple on a date.
Everything between us is unexpectedly easy. Smooth.
“I’ll have a glass,” she says.
“Red or white?”
“Red. Always red.”
I flash her a grin. “I have something I think you might like. From Piedmont.”
I do a ridiculous bow, like I’m Westley from The Princess Bride movie. All I need is to say as you wish while I’m rolling down a fucking hill. Mother Mary, someone put me out of my misery.
I pull a bottle of wine from the rack, uncork it, and pour a generous amount into the glass.
This is one of the finest batches from my cousin’s vineyard in Italy, what we serve for a hundred bucks a bottle.
I’m usually adept at reading what kind of wine will suit a woman, and this has Luna written all over it.
“So your bunker is under a casino. Your casino, specifically.”
Her voice is over my shoulder.
I have my back turned to her, but I can feel her there, hotter than a brand. My body is deeply aware of everything to do with Luna. My dick, even more so.
“You could say that,” I agree, corking the bottle and leaving it on the counter.
Taking my time, I find a lowball and fill it with ice. Then I reach for the Johnnie Walker Blue and pour it slowly.
“Why so noncommittal, gangster?” She props a hip against the marble alongside me.
She’s wearing yoga pants that were clearly designed by the devil and a tight tank that does nothing to hide her hard nipples. And I can’t stop thinking about how wet her pussy was this morning when I finger-fucked her.
Trying to play it nonchalant, I offer Luna her glass. “Try this and tell me what you think.”
She accepts it, eyes on me, her fingers brushing mine. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I pick up my glass, offering it for her to cheers. “I’m not noncommittal. It’s just that my bunker isn’t technically directly under the casino. It’s down and to the left.”
Our glasses clink.
“Semantics,” she says.
“Your graduate school words make my dick hard.”
“You think about your dick a lot, don’t you?”
I wink. “I guess we have that in common, baby.”
“I don’t think about your dick.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. I say that I don’t. Think about your dick. Not in any way, either hard or soft.” Her cheeks are pink.
I’ve never seen a woman blush before. Fuck, she’s adorable.
I want to kiss her and fuck her and fill her with my come.
I’m an asshole.
I lean into her, enjoying myself. “It’s always hard when you’re around.”
She gulps her wine and almost chokes on it.
“And you like it,” I add, pushing her.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asks quietly.
To distract myself. I can’t allow my mind to linger on the memory of my dead cousins. If the Bratva really are responsible for clipping Antonio and his boys, I’ll need to retaliate, and it won’t be pretty. I wasn’t lying when I told her this is war. And shit’s about to get even more dangerous.
But I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I take a long pull of my scotch, relishing the burn. I swallow it, holding her stare, and then I set it on the marble. My hands land on her waist, and I’m steering her away from the counter, toward the wall of glass, my forehead dropping to press to hers.
“I brought you here for this.”
We stop when she’s trapped between me and the glass, just looking into each other’s eyes, our breathing harsh. She’s still holding her glass of wine. I don’t give a shit. I’m an animal right now. Behind her, a kaleidoscope of a thousand different lights whirls on machines, but she’s all I see.
I slant my mouth over hers, trying to blot out the ugliness of today. She tastes like wine, and she responds the way I knew she would, kissing me back like she’s starving for me. I’ve been giving her time after what happened with her father, but I don’t know how much more I have in me.
I want her like I want power. Like I want revenge. Like I want to own this city and everyone in it.
She sucks my tongue, and my cock pulses.
I grind into her, grasping a handful of her hair, my knuckles rapping against the cool glass, and let her feel me, showing her without words what’s next for us.
I kiss her until she’s breathing hard. Until I am too, drinking from her lips.
She’s better than any scotch, than my cousin’s finest wine.
Taking my time, I kiss along her jaw, all the way to her ear. I suck the lobe, then bite it, my lips grazing her as I speak softly.
“Do you know what I could do right now, topolina ? I could pull down your hot little yoga pants and bury my tongue in your pussy. Your bare ass would be pressed against this glass while you ride my face, and no one down there would even know.”
She inhales sharply, gripping my shoulder with one hand. “You’d have to have my permission first.”
I tongue the hollow behind her ear. “Oh, I think we both know I already have it. You were so wet for me this morning.”
She makes a throaty sound and hooks her leg around my hip, holding me to her.
I work my way down her throat, licking and nipping. She smells so fucking good, and she feels even better, her hard nipples begging to be sucked as she presses them into my chest.
I brought her here for a distraction, to give her a change of scenery. But now, I’m on fire.
“You like the idea of me fucking you up here, don’t you, baby?” I find the place where her pulse is fluttering fast, like a butterfly’s wings, and I kiss her there. “You like the idea of me filling you with my dick while all those people below don’t have a clue.”
Luna makes another sound. “You talk too much, gangster.”
I smile against her smooth, warm skin. “Why? You have better uses for my mouth?”
She doesn’t say anything, so I fist her tank and yank it up, watching as her tits pop free. I’ve seen them before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them, because they’re perfect just like the rest of her. High and full, her nipples jutting toward me.
I take the glass of wine from her and tip it toward her left breast, ever so slightly. A thin stream of red drizzles over her bare skin, running down her nipple. It’s traveling quickly, so I don’t waste any time in licking it off then swirling my tongue around her nipple.
Luna makes a soft sound of surprise, arching her back. I suck hard, making sure to clean up every drop of wine. Then I pour a thin rivulet on her other breast and do the same. I don’t stop until she’s writhing against me, until her fingers are tunneling through my hair.
Then I raise my head and hold her gaze. Her big brown eyes are almost eclipsed by dark, dilated pupils. I hold the wineglass to her lips and tilt it gently, allowing her to take a sip.
Moving it away, I tilt it again, sending wine down her throat. With a groan, I lick it up, liking the game too much. It dribbles down between her tits before I catch the last of it on my tongue. My cousin’s wine has never been so fucking good.
But I want more. Playing isn’t enough.
With one hand, I slide my fingers under the waistband of her yoga pants and panties, and then I yank the elastic down. Sinking to my knees, I pull everything to her ankles. She watches me, lips parted, dark red from my mouth on hers and from wine. She’s like a dream.
I hold out the wineglass for her. “Your turn.”
For a second, I think she’ll argue. Put up a fight.
But I must have taken her over the edge, and her resistance is gone.
Swallowing hard, she tips the wineglass toward her.
Red trickles down, starting between her breasts and then sliding lower.
I watch as it pools in her belly button then spills again, running straight to her pussy.
Fuck yes.