Page 29

S arah

I wake up in Boyd’s arms, with the sun lighting up the curtains.

I’m not as sore as I was after our first night together. I’m getting used to his roughness. Loving the way it feels. Craving more of it, even though he ravaged me before we fell asleep.

But mostly I crave this. Being right here, in his arms. The quiet intimacy of skin on skin.

Snuggled into his warmth, not wanting to move a muscle, no matter what kind of dirty thoughts are going through my head.

Right now, we’re just Boyd and Sarah. Two people who spent another night together.

No Mafia. No serial killers. No podcasts.

If I knew which deity to thank, I would.

I curse several of them when Boyd’s phone rings and I reach for it. Boyd’s already pulling away and sitting up when I hand it over my shoulder.

“It’s Dante,” I sigh, hating what it means. Time for Big Mafia Boyd to spring back into action. Time to spend another day alone, worrying about him. Unless… “Anything? Did the sensors get tripped?”

“No, still nothing,” Boyd grunts, rubbing a hand over his face as he tries to wake up. “How long is this fucker going to make us wait? He killed three people and now he’s hiding?”

I nuzzle closer to Boyd, my cheek against his big, powerful arm.

“The Mafia Prince Killer has never been predictable. That’s why the cops never had any real leads until they got that tip after his last kill in New York.

But considering that it looks more and more like Arthur Dykstra is innocent, framing him may have been all part of the plan, too. ”

“How much time was there between the murders in the other cities?” Boyd asks, his jaw clicking as he grinds it.

“I thought you were listening to my old podcasts,” I tease, nudging my playfully.

“I have been, but I’m not a damn encyclopedia on this shit like you are,” he grouses.

“It’s not unusual for him to go dark for a while,” I say, kissing Boyd’s arm, and moving my way up to his neck. “There was some time between the second and third in Chicago. Same in New Jersey. And a couple of months between the fourth and fifth in New York.”

“Fuck,” Boyd says, his tone softening as I kiss his earlobe. “Careful, Sarah. I don’t have to run out the door this morning if there’s no news.”

“That’s kind of what I was counting on,” I laugh, putting my hand on his cock and rubbing it. “But if you want me to stop…”

Boyd turns and I see the answer in his emerald-gold glare.

He doesn’t want me to stop. He grabs my wrists, flipping me in one single, fluid motion.

He kisses me with a ferocity that makes me melt into his arms, my hand stroking his length again as he powers between my thighs.

The way his weight pins me beneath his heavy frame makes my core clench in anticipation.

One of Boyd’s large hands pulls mine away from his cock. It joins the other one above my head and gets held there while he adjusts his position. Then he’s inside me in one thrust. I’m so wet there is no resistance. It’s deep, hard, and perfect.

I’m full. Exactly the way I want to be. Whimpering his name while his hips make the covers rise and fall. I buck into every single thrust, my breathing getting heavier each time I feel him throb in my depths. Every pumping, brutal thrust that brushes my g-spot makes my toes curl and my head spin.

I succumb to the pleasure and Boyd kisses me.

Our bodies grind together in perfect harmony while he ravages my mouth.

I tremble from the pressure that builds.

Groan and scream into his mouth, but he devours every sound.

The rhythm. The heat. His dominance. It’s too much and my thighs start to shake before I’m ready.

I’m close. Too close. I have to pull my lips away from his, breaking the perfect seal with a gasp.

“Do I have permission to come?” I mewl. “Please give me permission!”

“Only because I love the way it feels when you do,” he growls, his thrusts getting faster.

I cry out in relief, and the orgasm rips through me like a storm. My body clenches around him, pulsating and shuddering, every nerve ending lit up like fireworks behind my eyes. I moan his name over and over until it’s all I know.

“Boyd… Boyd… Big Boyd, oh, sweet mercy!” I squeal, a second orgasm crashing into the first until they’re coursing through my body in unison.

He groans into my ear, hips slamming into me harder, his cock going deeper as I surrender to the bliss.

Then I feel his thrust get erratic. His length throbs inside me while my walls flutter on him.

Several bone-rattling thrusts send me over the edge again, and he joins me this time, grunting with pleasure as he empties himself inside me.

Boyd’s weight drops against me for a moment, breath hot on my neck, chest heaving as his breathing settles. My heart is still pounding in my chest. The afterglow of multiple orgasms, still radiating inside me and making my core tingle.

He doesn’t pull out right away. Just stays there, buried deep, like he doesn’t want to leave me empty any more than I want him to.

His grip on my wrists loosens and his arm moves behind my back, pulling me closer as he sinks into the mattress.

I groan a little when he finally slides free from my pussy, missing him in the instant he’s gone.

My thighs squeeze together involuntarily, just trying to savor the last remnants of our pleasure before it fades.

“I could get used to mornings like this,” I whisper, resting my head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

“Dangerous words, little girl,” he mumbles, his rough voice tinged with satisfaction. “After we catch the Mafia Prince Killer, there’s going to be a lot of mornings like this. Hell, all of them might be like this.”

“Is that a promise?” I ask, doing my best not to laugh.

“Well, maybe not exactly like this,” he admits, tightening his grip on me. “Some mornings, you might wake up tied to the bed, and then I’ll fuck you so hard you forget how to ask for permission.”

My breath catches as I imagine it. “Are you going to punish me if I forget?”

“Damn right,” he says, his hands tracing along my ribs. “But for now, I need to head to my place. Get a shower. Change clothes. There may not be any news, but I should put in an appearance, just so my crew knows I’m still keeping tabs on everything.”

“You’re leaving me again,” I sigh, my head dropping against his chest in disappointment.

“Unless you want to come with me,” he says, tightening his grip. “And we don’t have to leave yet. I want to stay right here for a while.”

“Okay.” The smile returns to my face, and I close my eyes.

I’m not ready to get up, either.

We stay in bed as long as we can. Boyd waits while I shower and get ready, then we leave my room. I follow him to the elevators and kiss him until they open.

The Morandi family has a lot more people hanging around today.

A lot of guys I don’t recognize, but the way they carry themselves makes it pretty obvious they’re not tourists or guests at the hotel.

All of those people are walking around with souvenirs, shopping bags, or lost in a Las Vegas daze—either from winning or losing, it’s hard to tell.

I puff on my vape a few times before we get into Boyd’s SUV.

I feel a tremor of excitement. I’ve never been to his place before.

I’m not sure what to expect. A bachelor pad, with everything in disarray?

A neat, tidy place carefully cleaned regularly, like Massimo’s mansion?

Regardless, I’ll probably learn a little more about Big Mafia Boyd when he lets me into his lair.

“Right up here,” Boyd says, gesturing toward a building that almost looks like a skyscraper.

“Wow. Waldorf Astoria? When you said you had a condo near the strip with a nice view, I wasn’t expecting it to be this close,” I admit, glancing behind me. “You could practically walk here from Salvalagio.”

“Sometimes that’s faster,” he says, turning into the parking lot. “Traffic isn’t as bad this early, though.”

Boyd finds a parking spot and I wait for him to open my door.

Another thing I’m getting used to: chivalry from this big brute of a man.

I stay close to him as we walk into Waldorf Astoria.

The moment we step through the doors, it feels like I’ve left Las Vegas and stepped into a different world.

It’s even fancier than Salvalagio, with polished marble, soft lighting, and the kind of quiet that isn’t cheap in Sin City.

A gold-toned chandelier sparkles overhead, reflecting off mirrored columns. It’s a stark contrast from the other places Boyd has taken me. The smell of smoke, desperation, or spilled booze doesn’t linger in the air like it does most places on the strip.

“Honestly, this looks like something from a postcard,” I say as we walk to the elevators.

Boyd smirks, glancing over at me. “They did renovations a while back. The Morandi family financed everything, when the bank wouldn’t come through for them, so several of us got good deals on the remodeled condos.”

“Oh, so this is where a lot of Mafia guys live?” I ask, a little nervousness in my voice.

“Nah, not anymore. Most of those guys sold the condos as soon as the price went up.” Boyd shrugs as we step into the elevators.

He swipes a card that allows him to access one of the top floors.

“Good investment, considering the price of real estate on the strip. A few guys still live here, but I rarely run into them.”

Even if Boyd got a good deal, it couldn’t have been cheap. I guess a guy in the Mafia doesn’t really have to worry about money like I do. Massimo is certainly wealthy, and based on what I’ve heard from Lea, so are a lot of the members of the Morandi family.