Dealer's Choice (3 page)

Marco was breathing heavily, I rested my head against his stomach as I continued to pet him.

Strong hands cupped under my arms and pulled me up so I was straddling him. I was eye to eye with a model gorgeous man whose still incredibly firm cock was resting between my legs.

“Oh, you are a naughty one, my sweets,” he said brushing my hair back from my face.

I gave him a saucy little smile, his eyes dropped to my mouth. His lips crashed down on mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I’d known plenty of men who would never kiss a woman after she had gone down on him. Marco seemed to savor our combined flavor. We were delicious.

“There are so many things I would like to do to you, s
ono pazzo di te
, I’m crazy about you. But there are too many things for me to enjoy you in the back of the car. Will you stay with me tonight? After drinks, which of course, you knew I was lying about right? There was no way I was going to let you go once I got you in my compound,” he said giving me a devilish smile.

“You think I was going to let you kick me out after drinks? Silly man, you obviously don’t know me very well,” I teased.

“Oh, my dove, I cannot wait to get to know you better, every delectable inch of you. I want to lay you out and worship your body. Make you wild with desire. Make you come over and over again, screaming my name. I will know you very, very well, and you will know all of me,” he promised, brushing his lips across mine in a hint of a kiss.

I was swimming in his imagery, he was very good. The accent was the icing on the cake. I was floating in the haze of envisioning myself coming hard with this man, when my wackadoodle brain zeroed in on one thing.

“Did you say compound?”

Laughter and sweet kisses followed this question. I didn’t see what was funny, I assumed we were heading to another hotel, as he rarely stayed where he gambled.

“Yes, I have a home here. I used to only use it once or twice a year. This last year I have been here almost full time,” he stated.

“Were you here for work this year?”

“No, not work, I was pursuing something I wanted very dearly and it took all of my concentration and effort.”

Wow, dedicated man.

“I hope you got what you wanted,” I offered politely.

“Oh, I haven’t gotten it yet. But tonight is looking very promising for me to finally reach my goal,” he cooed.

Oh, shit, he was talking about me! Seriously, I must have hit my head in the parking lot and now I’m in a coma. Yup this has to be a coma dream, this kind of thing did not happen to overweight, overworked casino dealers who have to wear polyester every day.

Handsome princes don’t sweep you off your feet and take you off to their castle where you live happily ever after. Do they?

I wasn’t sure how to respond, or should I respond? Or just say thank you?

I was saved from having to respond as the car slowed coming up to a large iron gate. The gate split open slowly allowing the car to enter. We pulled up to a circular drive, it was dark but the house and landscaping were lit up with lighting the likes of which you only see in architectural magazines.

And the house, dear lord it was a mansion. It was two stories and at least ten thousand square feet. It looked like pink desert stucco. Long wrap around terraces to keep the sun off the windows and provide shaded areas to escape the heat, classic Vegas.

That is, if you were a multi-millionaire or a headliner in a casino show. Most hard working people lived in identical little houses in crowded subdivisions with rocks in the front yard instead of grass. I bet Marco didn’t have a rock garden.

Peeling myself off of Marco’s lap, I adjusted my clothing to make sure I wasn’t completely disheveled. But there was only so much that could be done.

The door opened and Marco stepped out, holding his hand out for mine. I managed to somewhat gracefully exit the car. At least I didn’t fall over anyway.

We walked up to the huge double glass doors and they swung open before we even got to them.

“Good evening, Mr. Savoy. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, refreshments are have been laid out by the pool. Would you like to dine outside this evening?” This was all crisply spoken by a very stern looking older man wearing a butler’s uniform.

“Thank you, Parks, that will be fine. I’m going to show Ms. Alvarez where she can freshen up and we will be down shortly,” Marco said using a hand to direct me to the massive staircase to the right.

I didn’t resist, I was so overwhelmed just cranking my head around trying to soak it all in. It was definitely a castle. A pink castle no less.

Marco moved to take the lead when we reached the top of the stairs. He took my hand and we walked down a long hallway with doors off either side. Coming to a set of double doors at the end, Marco pushed them open.

I swear to God, we stepped into Cinderella’s bedroom. Or at least what I imagined her room might look like if she was kick-ass modern woman who lived in the lap of luxury and had killer taste.

Yup, this room was larger than my entire apartment. I started to feel very small and insignificant.

Marco was still leading me through, to another set of doors and pushed those open revealing a walk in closet that was the size of living room and kitchen combined. Wall to wall, there were clothes hanging on those really nice wood hangers, not the cheapy plastic ones. They lined the walls in a rainbow of colors and fabrics. It took my breath away.

Marco turned to me, watching my expression with a quirky smile. I was still looking past him when something hit me. Three fourths of the closet was woman’s clothes. Only one side had men’s suits, dress shirts and pants hanging neatly.

Who the hell did these clothes belong to? Oh shit, did I just blow a married man in the back of a car? Oh my momma was gonna kill me. Not that I’d tell her, but Latina mommas always knew when you had sinned. They had a radar about it.

My eyes flashed back to Marco’s, he looked a bit startled by my expression. The anger had risen in me like a volcano.

“What the hell! Are you married? Are these your wife’s clothes? You want me to put on another woman’s clothes? That is so not happening. I don’t know who you think you are or who you think I am, but I am not that kind of girl. I can’t believe this is happening. Why me? What did I do in a past life to have this…”

I was cut off as Marco’s mouth came down on mine, stopping my words. His hands cupped my face and I really wanted to resist. But he was super good at kissing. Like Olympic level. It should be a sport and he’d get the gold.

Pulling away from me, he looked into my eyes, “
Mi amore
, these are your clothes. I am not married, never have been. I would never bring you home if there was anyone else in my life. There hasn’t been anyone at all in over a year. I’ve been waiting.”

Confused I sputtered, “These are mine? How?”

“I had them purchased for you. My personal shopper was given instructions on what I would like to see you in. She sends clothes when she finds the most perfect item,” he responded, like this was a totally sensible answer.

“You had someone shop for me? All of this? How did you even know my size?” I squeaked.

“Ahh, the very nice seamstress at the hotel was more than happy to give me all of your uniform sizes, including shoe sizes when I told her what I had planned. She was very sweet, I sent her flowers the next day,” he answered with a chuckle.

Huh, apparently he had been planning this a while. Was I flattered or terrified? Do I find this endearing and sexy or stalkerish and creepy? Choices, choices.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but trust me I only did this because I knew what I wanted. I wanted you to step into my life with everything you needed.”

“So, you didn’t pick any of this out yourself?” I had to ask, it seemed a tad impersonal to have me dressed up by a stranger.

A shadow of a blush crept across his olive skin. He looked embarrassed for a moment then his eyes grew warm.

“There is one thing I picked out. I can’t help but buy them when I travel. I imagine you in them and it makes me hard. Makes me want you,” he growled, running his hands down my sides. Squeezing my hips in his big hands, he pushed away and walked to a set of drawers behind him. He pulled open three separate drawers side by side.

Inside was a sea of white, just white. And the scraps of fabric were just that, scraps.

“I would love to play dress up with you in here, but I thought we could have a casual dinner by the pool then take a swim to cool off,” he said quietly. His hand reached into the drawer and pulled out white string bikini. The top was bigger, cups that looked like they would support my ample bosom. But the bottom was two triangles of white with literal strings holding them together.

“I can’t wear that! I’ve never worn a bikini! I do not have a body for a bikini, no way,” I sputtered.

He took a step closer so I had to look up to him, his hands curved around my neck. “
Cara mia
, you are beautiful, your body is round and soft and made to entice a man. I see you, I know what you look like, and I want to see every inch of you. This teeny tiny swimsuit will let me see all of you, whenever I want,” he said huskily.

Huh, I’m guessing he was probably smart enough to guess my shape under my clothes. It’s not like the hotel uniforms came with padding.

“Um….” was all I could manage. He was so intense and I was so distracted by his smell. I wanted to lick the spot under his chin.

“I have a selection of lovely cover-ups that match the suits. I don’t expect you to strut that sexy body for my staff to see. But then after dinner, I get to see my dessert,” he crooned, leaning down, his tongue tracing my ear.

“Uh, okay, whatever you say,” I manage to mumble. My ear was clearly connected straight to my clit. I could feel my pussy getting wet as his hot tongue moved over the shell of my ear.

“Let me pick out something for you, yes?”

“Huh? Okay, sure, you pick something,” I acquiesce. I heard a chuckle in my ear but it was a sweet laugh.

The tiny white swimsuit was pushed into my hand, as Marco pulled away from me.

“Question,” I ask as he moved away from me.

He looked at me with an open face I realized and knew he’d tell me the truth.

“How many teeny tiny white swimsuits are there?”

That sexy smile returned to his handsome face, “Around fifty, I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he admitted, turning and walking out of the closet.

I looked at the suit and figured, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Changing out of my uniform into the suit, I thanked my lucky stars that getting bikini waxes were a regular part of my beauty routine. Just because I didn’t wear bikinis, didn’t mean I didn’t take advantage of any pool I could. It was Vegas after all.

The full length mirror at the end of the closet was big, big enough I could see every flaw. Ugh, cellulite, pudgy bits everywhere.

Putting on my big girl panties, I searched for something to cover up so I wouldn’t scare the help when I went downstairs.

He was right, there were another dozen cover-ups in different colors and fabrics. I found a black sheer one that was like a caftan but see through. I felt a little better that I wasn’t completely bare. I also found a pair of black jeweled flat sandals, in my size of course.

Slipping them on, I took a deep breath, hoping some bravery could be pulled from the recesses of my paralyzing embarrassment. I guess his reaction to this outfit would probably make or break my evening. At the last second I pulled the pins out of my work bun and gave my hair a shake. Curling brown tendrils floated down around my shoulders.

Stepping out of the closet, my eyes on the floor, I heard nothing.

Then down near my cute black sandals, a pair of dress shoes appeared. Looking up to those green eyes I saw heat and lust and all sorts of promises of sex. The hot sticky kind.

Wow. I totally blushed.

“
Bellisima
.”

And I was apparently rewarded by a kiss on the tip of my nose.

Marco took my hand and led me out of the room and back down the stairs and out through a half dozen rooms. I wasn’t even sure what all of these rooms were for. One thing was for sure, you would never run out of places to sit in his house.

He led me out to an oasis. No joke, this wasn’t some backyard pool with some floaties bobbing in it. It was like we had stepped into a lush jungle. Rock out-croppings, waterfalls, trees and plants everywhere. His water bill must suck.

By the edge of the pool was a table lit only by candlelight and the glow from the lights in the pool. It was set like the queen of England was visiting.

Pulling out a chair, Marco held it out for me and I sat. I was nervous, so I put my shaking hands into my lap.

“My dove, relax, this is for you. All of it, this is where you belong. I’ve dreamed about having you here, of having you all to myself.”

“Okay, I can’t promise that I won’t spill my food or say the wrong thing,” I admit. Fancy was not my middle name.

“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. I already like you. I hope soon I can tell you how deep my feelings truly are,” he said.

Wow, that was deep and way too much for me to process at this moment. The look of scared nausea probably warned him he was getting a little too much for me. He chuckled again and flicked his head towards the house.

Magically two servants appear with covered plates.  Covers were lifted and a beautifully presented plate of antipasto was uncovered. Wine was poured and the servants disappeared.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude. I want you to meet all of my staff, but tonight I want you to myself,” Marco said explaining his quietness.

“Of course, they all seem nice.” What else was I going to say?

“They are very loyal, and don’t worry we won’t be disturbed. I have very discreet security all around my property,” he confided.

“Oh, well, that’s good. So are you just rich or you some kind of secret spy or military intelligence?” Yup I just blurted that out. Gawd, I was so lame.

Laughing, he just about knocked me off my designer covered ass with his response.

“Actually, I’m minor royalty. And very rich. So you decide which one I should say first.”

I sputtered around the wine glass I was drinking out of, “Minor royalty, seriously?”

“Well, I’m the second son of a Duke. The royalty in Italy is long and muddied. So technically my older brother is closer to royalty than me. I’m just the one that works the family business, which is much harder than worrying about an accident of birth. Our holdings are worldwide, and we’ve worked for three generations to keep our family well off. It’s my job to make sure that future generations have something to work for too.”

“Ok, so a rich possible Duke, gotcha,” I said sarcastically.

“Well considering my father and brother would have to pass away for me to reach that, I hope to never become Duke,” he said wryly.

Wow, I was an ass.

“Oh God, of course, I didn’t even think of that. I’m sorry that was terribly rude of me.” I really needed to read my Ms. Manners book again apparently.

“It’s okay,
cara mia
, I find you charming. Eat, I have questions for you.”

“Okay, shoot,” I said popping an olive into my mouth.

Marco asked me about my family, which I only gave him through my immediate family. If I started in on my aunties and uncles we would be there all night.

He asked about my job, my school. I was still working on my Bachelor’s degree. It seemed like I had been working on it forever. But I usually could only manage one class at a time.

Marco asked about my hopes, dreams, what I wanted for the future. And surprisingly I was honest. Not that I usually lied, but I felt like I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge me for it.

I told him I wanted my degree so I could move into management. That someday I’d like to be a manager at the hotel. Possibly even travel to the company’s other hotels around the world. See things, experience new people, places and soak up the culture.

He listened, nodded and asked questions while we ate. I don’t know if it was his company or the wine, but I was relaxed. I was even feeling pretty happy.