The Hitman's Dancer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Snake Eyes Book 2) (4 page)

A straight flush. Diamonds.

My jaw drops. “You’re fucking kidding me…”

Lucy smiles and raises her glass to her thin, pink lips. “Do you have any twos, Mr. Hart?”

Chapter 4

Lucy

“Well, I must say, Ms. Vaughn. You’ve impressed me.”

I grin behind my drinking glass. “And I must say, Mr. Hart… you’ve disappointed me.”

Dante stares at me with narrow eyes and I look at the fire to keep from getting entranced again. How long has it been since we sat down here? An hour? Two? If the empty whiskey bottle and the large stack of cash next to my knee are any indication, it’s been a long while.

“Poker hasn’t always been my game,” he admits.

“Oh, you don’t have to make excuses for yourself,” I chuckle. “I certainly won’t.”

He presses his lips together but his wondrous blue eyes show no annoyance at all. It’s almost sickening. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

I shrug. “My father taught me.”

He shakes his head. “No, your father is in gambling debt up to his eyeballs. He never wins. This came from somewhere else…”

“The rules I learned from him,” I say. “The rest… well, watch a man make the same mistakes repeatedly and you tend to learn from them yourself.”

Dante nods and leans back against the edge of the fireplace, his eyes on me the entire time. I pretend not to notice his gaze, trailing a line from my toes to my neck. The heat of the fire strikes my face, blending with the stiff drink to tamper with my resolve.

I sneak another glance at him. Dante Hart. Who is this man anyway? Stunning blue eyes. Strong physique. Handsome as fuck. How did a man like this end up working for the worst crime family in all of Chicago?

“Dance for me.”

I blink. “What?”

“Dance for me, please,” he says again.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t work for free.”

He shrugs. “I’ll pay you.”

“I doubt you’d appreciate it, Mr. Hart. You don’t exactly seem cultured.”

“I might surprise you.”

My toes twitch. “There’s no music.”

“Imagine it,” he says, leaning forward. “Please, Ms. Vaughn. Just one dance.”

I bring my glass to my lips and take a healthy sip. The alcohol trembles my throat, dulling my nerves but my heart keeps skipping fast. “Fine,” I say, setting down the empty glass.

Dante sits back against the wall, victorious and bold, while I stand up and kick off my shoes. I wiggle my toes against the floor, tricking my blood into awakening them. I haven’t felt nervous on a stage since I was ten-years-old but for some reason, that forgotten sensation lingers on me now. I glance over my shoulder and his eyes are locked on my body.

My feet shift into fifth position, with my left heel attached to my right toes. I close my eyes, searching my brain for a bit of music to play but I can’t seem to find one. His eyes… they’re far too distracting.

I spin around, putting my back to him before trying again. Mozart. That’ll do, I suppose. With my eyes closed, I let the song play out and my body moves to every note. Glissade, coupé jeté, pas de chat. I free flow for him, making it all up as I go. My head spins, drunk on stage-fright and alcohol.

I spin on a pirouette and stop, finally opening my eyes to witness his reaction.

Dante jaw sags but he quickly closes it as I look at him. “You’re very talented, Ms. Vaughn,” he mutters, his voice a low growl.

I clear my throat. “Thank you, Mr. Hart.” My heart pounds in my chest. I calm my breaths to hide it from him.

“Are you all right?” he asks, reading the signs all too clear.

“Of course.” I look at my feet while I swipe my right toes across the hardwood floor in a quick rond de jambe. “I dance all the time.”

“Not like this…” His teeth rake across his bottom lip. “I highly doubt private dances are the norm for you.”

“You assume too much, Mr. Hart.”

He tilts his head. “Am I wrong?”

I fill my lungs with fresh air. “I suppose not. Men are usually more interested in how far back over my head I can lift my legs as opposed to how talented I am.”

“How far back
can
you lift your legs?”

“You’ll never know.”

He smiles wide and stands up off the floor with both of our empty glasses. His cologne touches my nose as he passes by, forcing me to keep my attentions on him. “You’re a touch too confident on that, I think,” he whispers, leaning in within an inch of my ear. My hairs stand on end and tickle against my skin with disappointment as he widens the gap between us on his way to the kitchen.

I lean against the archway between the living room and the hall, listening closely to his movements. The refrigerator opens and closes. Fresh cubes of ice drop in the glasses. He comes back several moments later with our glasses refilled.

“Still trying to get me drunk, Mr. Hart?” I ask. “That’s cheating.”

His face comes into view from the shadowed hall and he looks down at me with a smirk touching his lips. “Just loosening that tongue of yours, Ms. Vaughn.”

“Like you give a crap about what a girl has to say.”

“I beg to differ.”

He holds out my glass using his fingertips alone, leaving more than enough room for me to retrieve it without coming close to touching his fingers.

I grab the bottom with a trembling hand. My body screams, reacting to his startling eyes on mine. I try to look away but I can’t bring myself to move. Part of me wishes for his hand to graze mine, just so I can know what his skin feels like other than a professional handshake. His hands look thick and rough. Strong and mighty, like a carpenter that builds his own furniture. I try to imagine what he’s done with those fingers… and what he’s capable of doing with them.

My lungs lurch in my chest, reminding me to breathe.

“Ms. Vaughn?”

My eyes fall on his lips. They curl to one side and my mouth waters. I can’t control it. I don’t even want to admit to it. My skin burns. My body aches to be touched but he’d never touch me — not unless I touch him first.

I pull my hand away and my pinkie slides against his inner palm.

Lightning strikes up my arm, jerking my nerves so badly the glass slips from my fingers and shatters on the floor beneath us.

Dante’s victorious eyes never leave mine.

Oh, god. I touched him.

What have I done?

He cups my neck, drawing me against him while shoving me back against the entryway. His kiss is hard and fast, stealing my breath without even trying.

Dante leans down and drops his glass. It clatters on the floor while his hands travel up to grip my ass. He squeezes me, hard, pinching my skin until it hurts. The pain fires through my body, mixing with a lust I can’t deny. I kiss his lips, cupping his face to take his tongue deeper into my mouth.

He grunts and pulls me off the floor, forcing me around to the stairs. We travel them slowly, climbing one step at a time, unable to keep our hands off each other. Finally, he grabs me and pushes me down onto my back. The edge of the stairs scratch against my spine as he splits my knees and settles between them.

He grips my blouse and pulls it apart, popping the buttons free to expose me. They click against the wooden stairs as he presses his face between my heaving breasts.

I moan for him. Every swipe of his tongue across my skin brings even more painful agony between my thighs. It throbs harder the closer he gets and takes great pleasure in teasing me. His teeth drag along my thick nipple, bringing it to life against his tongue. I twinge in pain and reach for his belt.

Dante pulls back and looks down at me as I tug it free. He stares with thick amusement like he always knew we’d end up like this. I’d disagree if I could do anything other than imagine what his semen tastes like.

I push my fingers between his zipper and I gasp, taken back by the sizable bulge hidden inside his briefs. His hand pushes beneath my chin and I flick my eyes upward as his thumb swipes against my bottom lip. He pushes it between my teeth and I wrap my lips around his knuckles. My tongue twitches, immersed in the flavor of his skin, gently sucking at him to prepare myself for something far larger than his thumb.

I wrap my short fingers around his shaft and a breathy exhale escape his lips. It quivers in my hand, although I can’t be sure if that was him or me. I lean forward and he slides his thumb out of my mouth, wiping my spit along my lips before settling on the back of my neck. I wet my throat with eager anticipation, counting the seconds until I get to taste him for real.

I pull his briefs down and his manhood falls free, standing on end between us with a glistening tip. His nails dig into my hair to pull me closer to him until the tip slides between my lips.

My tongue explodes, reacting to his salty, sweet nectar. I lick it clean, only to entice even more out of him. He groans above me and I feel his body go stiff. I close my eyes, relishing in him as I work him in and out of my lips, sucking so hard my cheeks cave against his thick tip. My scalp aches but I let his grip stay on my head as he pulls me even closer, forcing his shaft even deeper into my mouth.

I flick my eyes upward to catch his face in the shadows. Sweat has broken on his brow. His jaw hangs open and his tongue lingers between his lips. He’s expecting me to stop, or perhaps choke on him, but I let him slide deeper into my throat.

His brow twitches in surprise, yet again underestimating me.

I clamp my lips around him and suck even harder. He flexes his jaw and closes his eyes, deep pleasures radiating up his spine. When he opens them again, I see the challenge in his dark blue eyes.

He slides out of my mouth and I take a deep breath as he leans down and grabs me off the stairs. His kiss shakes me again, stealing the air I so desperately need. Laughter tumbles off my lips as he carries me up the stairs. I feel weightless in his thick arms. He barely even flexes as I settle against him, wrapping my knees around his waist with my tongue in his mouth.

Dante tosses me onto his bed and reaches for my jeans with his eyes fixed on mine. He scratches my thighs as he pulls them down my ankles, drawing even more pain into my body to combat the rising tide of pleasure. I push farther back on the bed as he lowers himself between my legs, hooking his fingers beneath my knees to pull them above his shoulders. I bend to his will and I catch the twinkle in his eye as he no doubt wonders how flexible I really am. I stare up at him, silently daring him to test me, but he looks down at my pink folds instead.

His tongue slides down my taut belly, tasting my skin, inching closer and closer to my slit. I bite my tongue, trembling with each touch. I reach for the bedspread and curl my fingers into fists, latching onto it to keep myself steady.

Dante’s breath teases my thighs as he kisses down to my knees and back up again. My quads quiver with anticipation. He feels it and stares up at me with devious eyes, refusing to give me the pleasure I so desperately need. His tongue parts his lips above my swollen bud but he refuses to appease me.

“Say it…”

My voice catches in my throat. “What?”

“Say my name, Lucy.”

I grit my teeth, overwhelmed with knee-jerking rebellion. “No.”

He slides a fingertip along my closed, wet folds.
“Lucy…”

I bite my cheek, fighting against my back as it attempts to arch off the bed. “Mr. Hart…” I chuckle.

He digs his sharp teeth into my thigh with playful frustration. “Say it or I’ll make you scream it.”

I try to breathe deep but the air rattles my insides. I dig my nails a little deeper into the bed. If I give in, he owns me. “No—”

Dante shoots upward, tossing my legs off his shoulders as he reaches for his tie. He loosens it with a quick tug and flicks his shirt buttons free with his eyes focused on me. His abs peek out from underneath and I quiver with a fresh, desirable urge. I can’t look away from his body as he slides his shirt off and tosses it to the floor, along with the white tank underneath. My eyes land on the black tattoo on his chest, curling between his pecs down to his navel.

A cobra.

He leans forward and I feel his hard cock knock against my beckoning slit. “Lucy…” he whispers, his lips teasing mine. “Do you have any idea what I could do to you?”

I keep silent, unable to say an answer.

“Lucy.”
His voice travels down my spine.

“Do it,” I dare.

He smiles with surprise and grips my wrists to pull them above my head with his tie in one hand. I lurch with fear as he pushes me closer to the headboard and latches my hands to the wooden spokes with quick precision.

“Wait—”

“Shh,” he warns with smiling lips. He kisses me again, this time soft and slow. Almost
romantic
. “Just say my name and I’ll untie you.”

I furrow my brow with tight lips, refusing to give into his game. He stares me down, studying my face for any tells I may have, wondering how far he’ll have to bend me before I break.

“After you, Mr. Hart,” I breathe.