Pay Off: Accidental Marriage Mafia Romance (The Ferrari Family Book 5) Page 3

  “God, Brad…”

  I loved how she fucking said my name. I wanted it burned into her memory. I wanted her to never forget that Brad Nimico had pleasured her better than any man had ever done before or ever would do. When she wound up with other men, I wanted her to fantasize about me in their place.

  I curled my fingers, rubbing her G-spot until she shook and let out the long sigh of an orgasm. She broke into gentle laughter seconds later, pulling me in for a slower kiss as she murmured and pushed my hands down.

  “Where did you learn to please a woman like that,” she said.

  “Don’t ever fucking doubt me,” I said back.

  She laughed and pulled back, kissing me on my collarbone and chest. I was more than happy to let this be the part where I relaxed against the bed and let Megan do all the dirty work. And let’s just say I couldn’t wait to see how fucking dirty she could be.

  She started by licking my shaft and fondling my balls as her tongue rolled up to the tip. It was a fucking fantastic start. Really, as long as I came, it would all be great.

  She swallowed all of me moments later, and like a fucking pro, she handled my cock like she knew exactly what she was doing. There was no hesitation, no shame in what she did. In fact, the more that I reacted, the more she got into it, smirking at me.

  Fuck, that seductive grin. It was so hot, it was going to get me to climax faster than anything she did with her mouth. That might have been a slight exaggeration, but it wasn’t fucking much. Megan had given me previews of that look in the audience, at the bar, and over the last several years. I’d have killed for the moment where my cock was stuffed in her mouth and she looked up at me with that look.

  And goddamnit, it was worth the fucking wait.

  But I wasn’t going to let tonight end without fucking her. Granted, I could have just come, waited twenty or so minutes, and then pounded her pussy, but patience had never been my forte. I’d put the condom on, fuck her, and then let her go back to work. I needed to hear her scream, feel her bury her head into my shoulder as I gave her a second and third and who the fuck knew how many orgasms.

  “Come here,” I commanded.

  She looked up at me in surprise, though that didn’t stop her from continuing to stroke my cock. God, she was such a good girl.

  I sat up with only a tinge of remorse, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her forward and onto her back. I scrambled back to my pants, grabbed a condom from my wallet, and slid it on.

  “Oh, fuck, now we’re talking,” Megan said.

  “You think we’re talking now,” I said. “You won’t be when I make you come again.”

  It was dark with the lights off, but I could practically feel Megan blushing with excitement. I positioned myself outside her, bit her neck, and went in as she clenched down.

  I’d waited too fucking long for this moment not to fucking have my way with Megan. I wanted to fuck her senseless to the point that she fell asleep with her legs still spread and woke up barely able to walk normally. I put my hand on her neck and thrust in as deep as I could go.

  I knew she came at least once, as evidenced by the way her pussy quivered around me. I flipped her on her stomach after she came, grabbed her hips, and drove into her once more. I was pretty sure she came again, though by this point, she was reduced to a blabbering mess that made it difficult to understand what she was saying.

  I was getting close, but the alcohol and the condom were a potent combination, making it difficult to climax. Fortunately, after either the third or fourth orgasm, she pulled away, ripped the condom off, and started stroking and sucking me off. She had me sit on her stomach, begging me to come on her tits.

  And what fucking spectacular tits they were. With the condom off, it felt like my dick could breathe once more. I didn’t last but another minute or two, and I shot my come all over her. She smiled and moaned my name the whole time, as turned on by me finishing on her as I had been fingering her.

  “Holy fuck,” I said.

  “Holy fuck, indeed,” she said.

  I got off her so she could go clean up, but only because I wanted to fuck her again, and I would rather have not felt my come when I pressed my body against her. I heard the sink running and her saying something, but I ignored her.

  I just could not fucking believe that after all of these years, after all of that time spent looking at each other, flirting with each other, hinting at each other, we had finally, finally fucked. No one made me feel like this, but even under the spell of a shitload of alcohol, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder.

  “Remind me not to forget this necklace,” she said. “It’s important to me.”

  I stood up, walked toward the bathroom door, and met her with a strong kiss.

  “You’re not going to forget anything about tonight,” I growled. “Because we’re not done yet.”

  * * *

  Except, it turned out, we were.

  And until I had seen that necklace, I had forgotten much of what had happened.

  In fact, I still could not recall what had happened between going to the Marquee nightclub and me putting my dick deep inside her. Which was a damn shame, considering, you know, it was what fucking led us to get married.

  But whether or not I could recall that gap from dancing to fucking, I needed her back right now.

  I called her on her cell phone. She didn’t answer. I tried again. It didn’t work.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered to myself.

  I really, really didn’t want to have to resort to my backup options. I was a man who solved his own problems, even with the resources I had from my family. In fact, I considered it something of a weakness to turn to what I knew our family had.

  For one, while my extended family could help, my immediate family was not exactly the most helpful. My mother often suffered from anxiety issues, and I didn’t have a father. He’d been murdered nearly a decade ago.

  As a result, I was thrust into the role of father figure for the family far too early, even though that was only my mother. She’d never said anything directly, but I always suspected there was much more to her past and upbringing that made her so needy for attention and care. Regardless, though, it made asking her for help a non-starter.

  And for another, as fucked up as this was, this wasn’t a problem that I needed to “disappear” as was sometimes implied. This was a problem I needed to handle, not the least because…well, I wasn’t going to say that out loud.

  But I knew it might be time to turn to someone whom I knew could “take care of problems,” and I didn’t mean in the business sense. I was referring to my uncle.

  Gio Nimico.

  Chapter 4: Megan

  I was scrambling for help, and I had no fucking idea where to turn.

  No, that wasn’t right. It was more like I was scrambling for support for what I had done—and what I was thinking about doing. I didn’t exactly need to help to know what I wanted to do.

  I was seated inside Encore, the twin to the Wynn Hotel and Casino, at some unoccupied slot machine. The ding-ding-ding of slot machines filled my ears, but I wasn’t listening. I was instead reading a text message that my best friend, Julia, had sent me this morning.

  “Girl, what kind of a night did you have? Call me!”

  I was terrified to do just that. I had a feeling that I’d blabbed something about this marriage—this marriage!—last night, and let’s just say that while Julia knew what my father had done last year, I didn’t think she’d known that I would pull something like this. She’d never seen me do anything wilder than too drunk to walk home, but even that was more of a “don’t get mugged in NYC” deal than an “I literally can’t walk back home.”

  Then again, I didn’t know that I would pull something like this.

  At first, I didn’t call her. The idea that was running through my head, one that would last us past just this odd period of time, was almost insulting. It would fuck over a lot of people if the
y didn’t agree with it, and even I wasn’t sure that it was the right call.

  But the person who would probably be the most fucked over, my father—assuming that Brad even acquiesced a smidge to my proposal—was not someone I was particularly concerned with. If I could get Brad to agree with it, everything else would fall into place.

  I just needed a sanity check from someone.

  And, also, someone to fill me on what the hell had gone down last night.

  I finally dialed Julia. She picked up on the second ring, not the least bit surprising for how close she and I were.

  “Do you have any idea what you said to me when you called last night?”

  That’s a great fucking start.

  “Do I want to?”

  “I believe your exact words were, ‘Hey, hey, Julia, Julia, remember how you got married in Las Vegas a few years ago and regretted it? Well, I just, I just did it, and it’s going to be fucking awesome!’”

  Yep, that sounded like drunk Megan, all right. And that aligned all too well with everything else that had happened.

  “So did you actually really get married? Or were you just fucking with me?”

  I stared at the rock on my hand and sighed. The hangover made it a bit difficult to feel anything too strongly, but it wasn’t so powerful as to prevent me from feeling something. And that something…well, I was trying not to feel it so I could make sure Julia didn’t think I was crazy.

  “I really got married. I married Brad Nimico.”

  The other end went completely silent. I thought Julia had hung up on me for a second.

  “Julia?”

  No answer. I knew Julia had hated what I had done, but I didn’t think she’d reject my conversation as a result.

  “Julia.”

  “You’re serious,” she finally said.

  “Completely.”

  Julia sighed.

  “OK, well, good news is you have about three years to annul a marriage in the state of Nevada before shit gets really complicated, so you have time. The bad news is, well, you got married, and you’ll have to get divorced, and it may seem funny, but—”

  “Well.”

  I wished Julia was sitting across from me right now. That would have made this conversation a lot easier.

  Or, more likely, it would have let her slap me.

  “This may seem nuts, but I’m thinking about not ending it.”

  “Umm, what? Excuse me? Why?”

  She’s going to call me crazy. And she has every right to.

  “Brad and I have always had this weird vibe and this weird dynamic, and it’s been going on since I met him nearly, what, almost ten years ago,” I said. “We’ve never acted on it, but for whatever reason, when Brad invited me to have drinks with him after his final presentation, I just had a feeling. But the point is, this isn’t me getting married to some dude who’s there for a bachelor party. This is someone that I’ve had feelings for over a long period of time, and I know the feeling is mutual. Also—”

  “You know he wanted to marry you too?”

  I laughed at first, but I recognized it was a legitimate question.

  “I just knew he liked me. And we’re both based in the NYC area, so it’s not entirely out of the question.”

  Left unsaid was Brad’s family and the concerns I had about them, but that wasn’t the focus of the current conversation. However, it would certainly be the focus of a lot of my concern before everything was said and done. I knew that the truth was embedded within the rumors tossed around about the Nimicos.

  “But there’s also benefits to both of us from a business perspective, and I know that sounds terrible, so just hear me out. You know the deal that my father has with me becoming CEO, right?”

  “That you need to commit and marry someone and produce some grandkids; how could I forget about that ridiculous nonsense?”

  Actually, almost all of my friends knew about my father’s deal. It was almost too easy to mock the old man for having beliefs so archaic, even people twenty years older than me would probably find reasons to criticize them.

  “Exactly. Well, guess who’s married now. And, legally speaking, guess who can now take over the company.”

  “Christ, OK, but what’s to stop Brad from divorcing you?”

  “This is the part I’m a little fuzzy on, but…”

  Actually, I was almost making it up as I went. I had no idea if what I was about to propose would even make sense on multiple levels. But it was something I’d been thinking about, especially as my father’s archaic ways had affected more than just how I viewed him and as Brad had elevated his company to new heights with their tech and investing.

  “I was thinking that we could merge our companies or, at the very least, be the two major players in New York City. Drive everyone else out and parcel up the city for ourselves.”

  Julia just laughed at me. I couldn’t blame her. The idea wasn’t half-baked so much as it was tenth-baked.

  “You’re kidding me, right? And what happens if your dad gets wind of this and sees right through with it? What happens if Brad laughs and says he’ll just drive you and the rest of the company out of existence? I know you’re on a sex high right now and I’m sure you’re trying to rationalize a way for it to work, but Megan, get your shit together. You made a mistake last night. You can undo it relatively easily being in Nevada.”

  My phone buzzed briefly. I pulled it from my ear and looked down to see Brad calling. I hit ignore—I needed to figure out what the hell my plan was before I made any rash decisions.

  Everything Julia said was, for better or worse, one hundred percent true. I was on a sex high. My pussy still tingled from the feeling of last night, even if I couldn’t remember much of it, and there was the thrill of finally getting in bed with Brad Nimico. I wasn’t lying when I said that we’d had a spark of some sort for quite some time—granted, he wasn’t exactly the gentleman my father had hoped for, more like an abrasive go-getter who could rub people the wrong way. But maybe that’s why I was attracted to him.

  In any case, one thing was true: no one had ever made me feel like Brad Nimico did. No one. No one even came close. If I really had three years before shit got too messy to be easily untangled, then I owed it to myself to see if it would work. I had a freeroll of sorts. I might as well let it ride.

  “Well, I appreciate the advice, Julia, but the more I think about it, the more inclined I am to see what happens when I talk to him.”

  “He’s gonna kill you.”

  I wasn’t sure if she meant it metaphorically or not. Seriously.

  “Then I better call him and make sure we are on the same page before he does that,” I said. “Are you going to help me with this?”

  I heard Julia sigh on the other end of the line.

  “You know I think this is a serious mistake,” she said. “Brad’s hot and all, but you can do better.”

  “Better than a take-no-shit CEO of a rival company? Better than someone I’ve always had something for? Better than—”

  “OK, OK, you made your point,” Julia said. “What are you thinking of saying?”

  I smiled. What I was thinking of saying sounded too stupid in some respects, but if nothing else, it was worth a shot. The worst that would happen, in my mind, was Brad would say no and we’d be where we were now. Actually, the worst is much worse than that, but I don’t think Brad is going to resort to that.

  I hope.

  “Let me explain.”

  Chapter 5: Brad

  Megan was not answering her phone, and I was starting to get desperate.

  I could not fucking leave Las Vegas with a “Mrs.” attached to me. I could not go back to New York City and have the fun I did with a “wife” somewhere else in the city. Although this wasn’t exactly a committed, loving relationship by any stretch of the imagination, practically, it wouldn’t work very well if other women found out I was married.

  Problem was, though, just like it took two to tango, it took tw
o to tear apart. And if Megan wasn’t answering her phone, then I had to get in touch with someone who would be able to reach her.

  Still reeling from the way she just stood me up at breakfast at the Wynn, I walked toward the front desk, trying to find my composure. Just having the name “Megan” pop in my head made me feel like driving my fist through a slot machine screen. Just thinking about last night…well, shit, the sex was good, but there was no one in the fucking world that was worth a trade of one night of fantastic sex for a lifetime commitment.

  Really, it was a simple economics problem. There was so much supply for it, I didn’t have to demand it much. The price I was willing to pay for pussy was about as much as two, maybe three rounds of drinks if I thought the girl was really worth it.

  Megan’s a little bit different, though. She’s worth four rounds.

  You know what you mean, Brad.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  I was next in line. I forced a smile, surely looking like the least friendly person the front desk lady had seen all morning, and spoke on the fly.

  “Hi, yes, I’m trying to reach my girlfriend.”

  God, fucking sickening, just making that up. And to think, that’s somehow not even right in the way I want to be wrong.

  “She had to change hotel rooms because of an issue with smoke, but it happened so late last night I did not get her room number. Can you tell me what number she’s in?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we cannot provide personal information like that.”

  OK, you want to play hardball? I get what I want.

  “With all respect, ma’am, I need—”

  “Next!”

  Bitch didn’t even look at me when she called out next. It was like I was a computer program, having been handled and now moved on to the next task.

  Well, fuck that. I never fucking got told no, and some Wynn associate wasn’t about to be the first to deny me what I wanted.