Wild Card Read online Renee Rose (Vegas Underground #8)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Vegas Underground Series by Renee Rose
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Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
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Follow her in there to make sure she doesn’t arm herself.

Except I’m certain she’d never win a fight with me. Maybe with the help of a gun, but that’s still a big maybe. I have plenty of practice disarming would-be heroes. So I leave her be.

She deserves some privacy and a break after the way I just gave it to her.

And I don’t have it in me to be any more of an asshole to her than I’ve already been.

Caitlin

Wow. Just wow. That’s all.

I feel incredible. The sub drop lifted. Maybe it wasn’t sub drop—maybe it was just one of those orgasms that makes you cry—is that the same thing? I don’t know.

All I know is that I feel great now.

Starving, but great.

Every cell in my body is alive. Tingling. My body is sated, but I still feel sexy as hell. Beautiful, even.

I blink at myself in the mirror. The rug burn on my cheek is going to turn into a bright raspberry. That’s too bad. But no biggie. I don’t mind wearing sex badges as proof of my accomplishments. If only they made those Girl Scout patches—I’d be all over collecting them.

I cup my breasts and gaze back at my reflection. My skin is flushed, my eyes are bright.

I look… happy.

Hell, I feel happy.

Which I know is wrong. I have problems that can’t by fixed by good sex.

I’m going to go to jail.

It’s either that or my brother gets hurt by the man I took as a lover.

Except I’m finding it hard to believe he would hurt me. Or my brother. Oh, I’m sure he’s quite capable of it. I’m sure he does such things on a regular basis. But he just let me cry on his neck without blinking an eye. Without getting weird and pushing me away. Without judging me.

And now that I think about it, that might be the source of my current buoyancy.

It’s like I’ve been received—crazy and all—for the first time in my life. I’ve had doms provide aftercare during sub-drop before, but they still kept a distance. Or they were overly tender.

Paolo just accepted it. Didn’t make it a big deal.

And then he kissed me.

I look for a brush, but all Paolo has is a comb. I’ll never get it through the tangled mess that is my hair right now.

The door opens. As if Paolo read my mind, he plops my giant satchel purse on the counter. “I grabbed your toothbrush and shit from your place,” he says. “It’s all in there.”

I tip my head to the side. “Because this is just a big sleepover?”

His lips twitch. I seriously want to figure out how to make the guy smile. He catches my wrists and pulls me up against his hard body. My breath goes out with a whoosh. My knees go weak. “You know what you have to do, little hacker. Get me my money. Then I’ll take you home. Just like that.”

My heart hammers at my chest. “Just like that,” I repeat at a murmur.

“I’ll even let you ride in the front seat instead of the trunk. It doesn’t have to be hard.”

“Can I drive?”

“No chance.”

“Kidding. I don’t know how to drive, anyway.” One of the perks of hitting driving age without a parent. I blink up at him. “I need more time, Paolo,” I plead. “Let me pay it over time. Tack on more interest. Please?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, doll. End of tomorrow is your deadline. You didn’t come to me for a loan. You stole from me. Only reason I’m not putting the hurt on is because you’re so fucking adorable.”

I’m not sure why that makes me blush.

My reaction is ridiculous. Who cares if he thinks I’m adorable? My life is essentially over now.

And it’s his fault.

Except I know that’s not exactly true. It’s my own damn fault. And it was probably my dad’s damn fault for getting himself killed, too. I guess it runs in the family. Thank God Trevor seems to have missed out on the stupid gene.

My stomach grumbles.

“You hungry? What do you want for lunch?”

Well, if he’s asking… “Are you too Italian for take-out pizza?”

He grins. A real, genuine grin. Short-lived, but I saw it. “I’ll do pizza. What do you like on it?

“Sausage and jalapeño.” I lift my chin in challenge to my strange request and the grin reappears for a flash.

“I might be too Italian for that. Nah, I can deal. Sausage and jalapeño it is. I don’t need to tie you up and cover your mouth with tape when the delivery boy gets here, right?”

I shrug, affecting a sort of interested look. “Well, I’ve never had two doms at once, but I’m definitely interested in trying.”

Of all the things I’ve done to shock him—and yeah, I can admit it—I do use the crazy thing for effect, this is the one that he actually responds to. His brows slam down and he wraps one meaty palm around my throat. He doesn’t use it to squeeze, but he holds me in place. His forehead drops down to mine. “I don’t share, doll. Remember that.”



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