Vegas Underground Book 2: Mafia Daddy
Autore
Renee Rose
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SHE'S ALWAYS BEEN MINE
Don G gave me an order--find his daughter.
Straighten her out. Bring her home.
Sure--taking the mafia princess in hand will be my pleasure.
But she’s not going home--she’s staying with me.
Because despite the marriage contract to another family, Jenna Pachino has always been mine.
Chapter One
Jenna
The pounding music might be the only thing keeping me on my feet at the moment. I bounce and spin on the dance floor to the beats of DJ Sunshine, the coolest female DJ on Ibiza. I may or may not have one too many cosmos in me. The room tilts and spins alarmingly every time I slow down.
I guess I ought to thank mobster Nico Tacone for footing the bill on this party lifestyle, but I spent my entire life hating him, so gratitude would be an adjustment. Still, he released me from our marriage contract and gave me the money to run away until he worked things out with our families, so I have nothing to complain about.
I turn and run into a wall of fine Italian suit. Pleasure overtakes me at a familiar masculine scent, and I throw my arms around the man’s neck before my brain registers what this means.
I’ve been found. Caught.
“Alex!” I breathe.
My father’s right-hand man. His soldier, bodyguard, protégé—whatever you want to call him.
I don’t mean to fling myself at him, but my body control isn’t the best. Oh, who am I kidding? I totally want to plaster myself all over this man.
He’s been the subject of my schoolgirl crushes since I was fifteen.
Strong, handsome, powerful, sexy. Italian. He’s everything I love in a man. And he’s off limits. Or rather, as a mafia princess with a marriage contract to another family, I’ve been off limits to him.
Which meant no matter how much I flirted or attempted to provoke him, he never showed any interest beyond the smolder of desire I swore burned in his gaze. But then, he might give every girl those sizzling looks, because I’m pretty sure he’s a huge player.
His iron arm bands around my waist, presumably to hold me up, since I’m not doing a great job of it myself, but I take it as an invitation and lift my legs to wrap around his waist.
“That’s it, bambina.” He’s never called me baby before and the pleasure of it ripples through me as he shifts his forearm under my ass, turns and walks swiftly toward the door.
By the time my brain catches on to what’s happening, we’re off the dance floor and almost out of the nightclub. “Wait!” I try to get down. I guess when I attached myself to him in greeting, I was angling for some sexy dancing out on the floor. But Alex is all business, and if he thinks he’s dragging me back to Chicago to face my father, he’s going to have a fight on his hands.
I kick and thrash and suddenly Yuri, the huge, tattooed Russian who sits and watches the DJ, Lucy, every night with a moon face, steps in front of us, blocking Alex.
“Put girl down.” His accent is as thick as his meaty arms.
You gotta love Yuri. I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure he’s ex-mafia, too. Or bratva—whatever they call Russian mafiya. His tattoos read like a rap sheet and when he’s not looking moony at Lucy, his expression promises death to anyone who gets in his way or looks too long at his girl.
Alex’s body, already rigid, goes even tighter. He lowers me slowly to my feet, I suppose so he has his hands free to fight.
I thrust my body between them, but Alex effortlessly pushes me behind him.
“It’s okay, Yuri.” Damn, I’m slurring a bit. I pat Alex’s well-dressed arm. “He’s mine. I mean—he’s with me. I’m with him. He can take me now.”
Yuri cracks his knuckles. “You know this guy? He’s not safe.”
I actually hear Alex growl beside me.
“He’s safe for me,” I say quickly. “Not for other people.” Definitely not for you. I take Alex’s arm, anxious to get out of there without any bloodshed. “Let us pass, Yuri.”
Yuri’s eyes narrow, but after two beats, he steps aside.
Alex doesn’t take his menacing glare off the guy until we’re long past, then he swoops me back up, carrying me toddler style on his hip.
“This is fun.” I sit even taller and kick my feet like a happy tot. It’s a ridiculous position, but I love it.
“I would throw you over my fucking shoulder, but I’m afraid you’d puke on my heels,” Alex grumbles.
I giggle and tangle my fingers in his thick, dark hair. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I already know I’m going to be embarrassed about my behavior tomorrow, but in this moment, it’s too pleasurable to be this close to Alex with my inhibitions down.
Apparently he’s cased me out, because he walks the block back to my hotel and goes straight to my suite, where he waits for me to fumble in the tiny cross-shoulder purse for the key. I accidentally drop it and only then does he put me down.
I’m drunk, so I’m probably making stuff up, but I like to think he enjoyed carrying me as much as I loved straddling his waist. Of course, I’d like to straddle his waist in a whole different configuration, but that probably won’t happen.
“Please tell me my dad isn’t here,” I slur as he unlocks the door to the luxury suite I’ve been staying in and pushes it open.
“Nope, just me.” His voice is tight. He takes off his suit jacket with an impatient jerk.
“Why are you pissed?”
He cocks a brow, which is an extremely sexy look on him. I definitely have a thing for pissed-off Italian hot shots. Casualty of living in La Cosa Nostra, I guess. His eyes rake over me, taking in my short mini-skirt and cropped spaghetti top.
Okay, I’m showing way more skin than I would back home, but I’m on a Spanish island.
“You were dancing at a nightclub, dressed like that—drunk. Anything could’ve happened to you, piccolina!”
I shake my head, which has the effect of making the room spin. “I was safe,” I slur. “You saw how Yuri act—”
I’m cut off when Alex grabs my forearm, spins me around, and pushes my torso down over the bed. I giggle when his hand smacks down on my ass, even though it smarts like hell.
“Don’t say that fucking name again.”
“What? Yuri—ow! Okay! Ouch.” I dance right and left as he smacks my ass five more times. “Jesus, Alex. What—are you jealous?” Again, it’s something I wouldn’t have said sober. But I’ve also never been bent over and spanked by my father’s soldier either.
And I have to say, it’s thrilling, albeit a bit stingy.
I’m not afraid of Alex. I meant what I said to Yuri—he’s safe for me. His loyalty to my father goes bone deep. Until this moment, I would’ve sworn he wouldn’t hurt a hair on my head, but the spanking doesn’t worry me. In fact, I take it as a sign that I might actually get somewhere with Alex for once.
“Jealous?” Alex is breathing hard, which doesn’t make sense because he’s in great shape. Unless… he’s as excited as I am. He yanks up my mini-skirt.
I squeal and reach back with both hands to hold it down, but he grabs my wrists and pins them behind my back. Then he lifts my skirt up to my waist and smacks my ass. I’m wearing a G-string, so his palm connects with bare skin and makes a crack that I’m sure the people in the room next door can hear. My pussy clenches at the intimacy of the act. His hand is so close to my tingling lady bits.
“Yeah, maybe.” He smacks me again. “Some stronzo Russian tries to stop me from leaving with you? He’s lucky I didn’t shove his balls down his throat.” He’s spanking me hard, first one cheek, then the other.
I choke on my breath. I didn’t expect Alex to put a claim on me. Of course, it might not mean anything. He probably thinks he owns me because he’s acting as my father’s agent. And Lord knows my father thinks he owns me.
He keeps spanking. “Tell me you haven’t been down there every fucking night like this.”
I don’t answer because I’m not going to lie, and the truth is going to make him more mad. And I’m not sure I can handle more spanking, even though my pussy is wet, clit throbbing.
He takes my silence as a yes and spanks harder, his hand falling in swift, punctuating movements. “Tell me—” His voice goes rough, almost broken. “Tell me you didn’t let those bastards take advantage of you. Tell me!” he roars.
Uh… what bastards?
He stops spanking me. “Jenna?” Yes, his voice sounds broken.
“No—never.”
I’m still a virgin, as ridiculous as that may sound. All those years, promised to Nico Tacone—I don’t know, I guess I was afraid he’d do something horrible to me if I wasn’t a virgin on our wedding night. And since he set me free a few months ago, well… no one here was Alex.
So that’s that.
Alex abruptly pulls me up and turns me to face him. “Never?” he croaks.
I shake my head. “Never, ever.”
His mouth descends on mine in a punishing kiss.
I swoon. All this time, I’ve been hoping I wasn’t reading an attraction that wasn’t there. Praying he wouldn’t reject me yet again. And now—praise the virgin Madonna—he’s kissing me!
He palms my bare ass with both hands, squeezing and kneading the smarting flesh as his lips twist over mine, his tongue invades.
It’s a wicked kiss. A demanding one.
I push my pelvis forward, stand on my tiptoes to rub higher. His cock presses into my belly with hard insistence.
Oh, God—this is it. I’m going to lose my virginity to the guy I always dreamed of giving it to.
* * *
Alex
I somehow force myself to pull back from Jenna. She tastes like cranberry and vodka and I want to fucking devour her, but I can’t.
She’s the don’s daughter.
Except who am I kidding? I just bent her over and spanked her ass like a naughty girl. If that’s not claiming her, what is? And seriously, if I don’t claim her now, the spanking would be a humiliating insult to her.
She’s not tied to Nico Tacone anymore.
That means she’s free.
Right?
I capture the back of her head and go in for more kissing. Her lips are soft and giving, her body molds to mine.
I don’t know why, but I have to know more about the men. I’m jealous as fuck just knowing guys have seen her dressed like this.
I press her back on the bed, falling over her, still fucking her mouth with my tongue. I pin her wrists above her head and come up for air. “How many men, Jenna? Just tell me.”
She frowns, her forehead wrinkling up in an adorable scowl. “I told you—none.”
I can’t quite breathe. “None here? Or none… ever?”
She gets smaller before my eyes and I feel like the biggest stronzo on Earth for diminishing her. As much as it inspires my dominant, protective instincts, I like seeing her in her sexual power. “None, ever,” she mutters.
My chest tightens. Cazzo. Despite her oozing sexuality, Jenna Pachino is an innocent.
I kiss her again, tender this time.
And then I force myself off her. Because I’m sure as hell going to make her first time good, not some drunken hookup that she might regret tomorrow. I scoop my arms under her shoulders and knees and slide her up on the bed and under the covers.
She smiles up at me, but when I pull the covers up to her chin, she frowns. “What are you doing?”
“Putting you to bed, tesoro mio.”
She sits up and reaches for me. “Aren’t you coming?”
I step out of her reach, because, fuck, if I let her touch me, I’m going to be in that bed in a half-second. “Believe me, bambi, there’s nothing more I want than to be pounding between those legs until you can’t walk straight tomorrow, but I’m not going to.” Her eyes rounded when I spoke crudely, but the way her lips part is an invitation. “I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’ve been drinking.”
She climbs out of the bed and holds my gaze, pulling her tiny top—essentially a handkerchief held on with two threads—over her head. She isn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts bounce invitingly.
Fuck. I’ve had a lot of women, but I’ve never seen a body that compares to Jenna Pachino’s. But she’s always done it for me, hasn’t she? Of course I have to have a hard-on for the don’s only daughter. I stumble back, out of reaching distance.
She climbs out of the bed and sheds the rumpled skirt next.
“Enough!” I snap when she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her G-string. “Don’t fucking cock-tease me, baby. Not when I’ve been shouting your name while I beat off since before you were out of your dad’s house.” I give my cock a hard squeeze over my pants. “Not when I’m trying to be a gentleman. You get that gorgeous ass of yours back in bed before I paint it red again.”
Excitement flares in her eyes at my threat, which comes as a relief, because I’ve been feeling like an asshole for taking liberties punishing her already.
She doesn’t stop, though. She steps forward and loops her arms around my neck, rubbing those hard nipples against my chest.
“I mean it,” I growl, but my voice comes out raspy. I grab her panties by the back string and pull up, threading them against her crack in the back, pulling taut over her clitty in the front.
Her moan nearly makes me lose it. She pants, head falling back, fingernails scoring the back of my neck.
“Aw, bambi, you keep making noises like that and I’m gonna end up fucking you standing. Right here, right now.”
She lifts one leg, as if to line her pussy up with my throbbing dick, and I yank up on her G-string again.
“I think you need a lesson in obedience.”
She pants in audible, moany little breaths.
“You gonna get in that bed—” she shakes her head as I speak, “—or do I have to spank you again?”
She nods.
Cazzo. Do I have the control for this?
I seriously doubt it.
To take things down a notch, I lead her over to the sofa, where I sit and pull her over my lap.
“Mmm.” I swear to Christ, she starts humping it.
Jenna Pachino is fucking killing me.
She’s turned the wrong way, which means I have to use my left hand to spank her. It’s probably a good thing, because her ass is still pink from the slaps I laid down earlier.
“You need your ass smacked by me?” I ask. Her ass is delicious to spank—round, muscular, perfect. The perky cheeks flatten and bounce back with each slap.
“Yes,” she moans.
“Say yes, Daddy.” I don’t even know where I’m getting this shit. I’m dominant, yeah. I’ve always been the kinda guy who takes charge in the bedroom. I like to hold them down, even tie them up, and fuck hard.
But Jenna, she’s special to me. She’s the girl who offered secret smiles and stolen glances from the first day the don took me under his wing. She teased and joked with me when I was nervous, held my hand at my father’s funeral, and delivered home-baked Italian dishes for the month after.
And she’s hotter than sin. So yeah, I still want to dominate her, but taking good care of her is at the forefront of my mind. Which I guess translates to being her daddy.
“Yes, Daddy.” She says it immediately, like there’s nothing weird about me demanding she call me that. This girl was fucking made for me. I knew it.
All these years, I couldn’t believe God would forsake me by handing her over to someone else.
But now she’s free. The contract’s been broken, Nico Tacone married his little art historian, and the mountains didn’t fall. The Families didn’t even squabble over it.
“Good, because I fucking love spanking you, principessa.”
Her ass is hot, and turning from pink to red. It strikes me with stab of horror that I might have gone too far. She is drunk, after all. She might not be experiencing the real pain of it.
I stop and rub her cheeks, handling them roughly because I can’t control myself.
She rolls her hips, taunting me. Teasing me. Offering herself to me.
Not. Tonight.
Cazzo.
I bring two fingers between her legs. Her panties are soaked. I slip under them and work her clit, rubbing it lightly at first, then penetrating her with just one finger. She’s tight—but I work my digit in, then add a second one.
Her juices leak freely, her moans sound wanton. “Alex,” she breathes.
I pull my fingers out and smack her ass. “Daddy.”~
“Daddy,” she repeats immediately.
“Good girl.” I reward her with a firmer treatment of her clit, circling it, rubbing. I penetrate her again with two fingers, pumping them in and out.
“Alex-Daddy-please,” she begs, stringing the words together.
“You need to come already, baby?”
“Yes, please. Oh!”
I love the way she arches her back like a little kitten, sticking her ass up in the air to meet my fingers. I fuck her faster with them, harder. I insinuate my thumb between her ass cheeks and press it against her anus.
She comes immediately, her muscles spasming around my fingers, her body flattening and going rigid. She kicks her legs out straight behind her, tightening all the muscles as her pussy squeezes and releases.
“That’s it, principessa,” I murmur. When she’s done, I slip my fingers out and drop a kiss on her reddened cheeks. “Now, get in bed.” I help her to her feet. I can’t fucking stand, because my boner is so hard against my leg I’m afraid it will break off.
“What about you?” She looks down at my obvious discomfort.
I wave an impatient hand. “Get in the fucking bed, little girl. Your ass is red enough.”
She smiles and cups her ass, then shrugs and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
She must be sobering up.
And no, I tell myself firmly, that doesn’t mean I can fuck her now.
