80

Tony
I lead Pepper out the front door where I have a hired limo waiting to take us to the airport. I lift my chin at the driver, who scrambles to open the passenger door for Pepper while I walk around to the other side.
Once we’re seated, Pepper pulls out the notebook I brought her. What time will we be back? she writes in neat, boxy letters.
“We’re booked back on the 4 p. m. flight, which will have us back to the hotel by 5:30.”
She nibbles her lip, then writes. Does Hugh know?
I scowl at the mention of her manager. “I don’t babysit Hugh.” The testa di cazzo could’ve called me last night to discuss the problem I had with the show, but he chose not to. Today he’s gonna find out what happens when you fuck over the Tacones.
She nods and pulls out her phone, thumbing over the screen to text Hugh.
I shoot off a few texts of my own and answer a call from one of the security guys at the casino. I’m still talking when we get to the airport, but I hang up as soon as we enter. Pepper is my charge, which means I have to act as her bodyguard when we’re in public places. I stay alert, watching for threats from every direction.
We get checked in-I bought us first class tickets, of course-and queue up to go through security. The TSA guy looks at her license and ticket, and a broad grin spreads across his face. Her last name isn’t Heart, it’s Hartman, but apparently he figures it out.
“Heeyy, Pepper.”
I hold my hand out for the documents. “She can’t talk; she’s saving her voice for the show tonight.”
“Oh, yeah,” the guy says. “The Bellissimo, right? I’ll have to get tickets.” He reluctantly hands our I. D. s and plane tickets back.
“You do that.”
Pepper gives him a smile he definitely doesn’t deserve, but I resist the urge to take her elbow and tug her along the way her manager does.
“Do you want anything from Starbucks, songbird?” I ask when we pass the coffee shop. “Hot tea with honey for your throat?”
She shrugs, then nods.
I get in line. “What kind?”
She cranes her neck to look at their tea offerings, then mouths the word mint.
I try to tear my eyes away from her mouth. Any more lipreading and I’m going to sprout a chub. I can’t help picturing those lips stretched around my cock, sliding up and down while I fist her platinum hair. I clear my throat. “Anything else?”
She points to a chocolate croissant.
I order a triple espresso for me and the tea and croissant for Pepper. The satisfaction I get from her allowing me to take care of her is laughable. Buying a girl tea doesn’t make me a big man. At least she won’t see it that way. All she’s gonna see is that I’m strong-arming her into doing what I need her to do to perform her end of the deal.
Still, when she takes them, it satisfies the part of me that’s always on-that underlying need to to protect those in my dominion.
Pepper walks through the airport like an observer, not a rock star. She takes in everything around her. Not like me-not sizing up threats and dangers-more like an artist studying her subject, or a writer people-watching for inspiration.
We sit down at our gate and someone yells, “Pepper!”
Pepper’s head whips around as a millennial with a phone snaps a picture of her. “See, I told you it was her,” he says to the girl with him.
Pepper could’ve ignored him, or even flipped him off like she loves to do to me, but instead she smiles and waves.
Encouraged, the kids come over, and the people around us all sit up and pay attention, crowding closer.
“Can I get a selfie with you, Pepper?”
“Can I?” Now they’re all asking.
“Ms. Heart is resting her vocal cords today so she’s not speaking,” I project over the hubbub.
Pepper smiles and gets up, posing with each clamoring fan, making faces, getting goofy. It’s cute but also disturbs me on some level I don’t quite get. Something about the contrast between the smiles and melancholy of the actual girl.
I get up with her, making my full size felt. When it goes on for more than a minute, I lean down and speak into her ear, “Squeeze my arm when you want me to get rid of them.”
She flashes me a glance filled with surprised gratitude and after a few more photos, squeezes my arm.
“Okay, thank you. Let’s give Ms. Heart a break… thank you, that’s enough. Okay.” I shoo the rest of them away and lead her to the area near the podium reserved for handicapped and families with small children.
“You like your fans,” I observe as we wait to board. I’m kind of amazed at how patient she was with all that bullshit.
She pulls out her notebook and writes, I love them. They buy my albums and come to my concerts. I’m grateful for them every day.
Well, shit. I really don’t want to find out she’s an incredible human being in addition to being rich, beautiful and talented.
She glances at me and writes, You’re a way better bodyguard than Anton.
That annoys the fuck out of me, because I don’t know shit about being a bodyguard, and Anton definitely should. “How so?”
She just shrugs and looks down at her notebook. I think it’s the end of the convo until she writes, He works for Hugh.
Fucking Hugh.
“Right. Well, you work for me, songbird, so I’m just protecting what’s mine.” It’s an asshole thing to say, but I can’t very well go making friends with her, can I?
She mimes picking her nose with her middle finger and puts her ear buds in, an act I should not find so cute.
Good. Mission accomplished. Now if I can just keep my hands off her for the rest of the trip.
Pepper
Tony’s phone rings while we’re boarding the plane. “Hey, Ma. How’s it going?”
He gives me the window seat and settles beside me. I don’t know why it’s hilarious to me that a mafia enforcer is taking a call from his mom, but it is.
“Actually, I’m on a plane, about to head to L. A. Yeah, for work… uh huh…” He glances over me, looking slightly sheepish. “Ma, you know that singer you like? Pepper Heart? Yeah, the Never Again song. Well, she’s singing at the Bellissimo this month. Yeah. I’ll fly you out, you can watch her show. I’ll give you special seats, away from the crowd. Waddya say?” He listens for a moment and rubs his face. “So what? You don’t need Tad to go, Ma. I’ll go to the concert with you.”
Yeah, this is what makes it funny. Because this big and terrifying guy still answers to his mom, still turns into a pleading child. It’s downright sweet, actually.
“Ma, if you’re scared to fly, I’ll come and get you.” He throws up an impatient hand, Italian style. “Who cares if Tad has to cook his own dinners? That stronzo will get by-” Tony heaves a giant sigh. “Fine. Fine. Forget about it. I just want you to get out and do something you enjoy for a change. Get away from-” He rubs his jaw. It’s only noon, but he’s already showing signs of a five o’clock shadow. “All right, all right. Yeah, I love you, too. Bye, Ma.” He ends the call with a scowl just as the plane starts to taxi.
I borrow his phone and take a selfie of the two of us with it, then open to his recent calls and copy the number to text. I send it to his mom with the words, Hi, from Pepper Heart. Hope to see you at my show!
Tony takes the phone back, looks at the message, and stares at me. I’ve turned back to the notebook, which I’m doodling with lyrics and overheard words and phrases. I feel the heat of his gaze.
“Hey, songbird.”
I glance up without lifting my head, like I can’t be bothered.
He leans down to meet my eyes. “Thank you. That was damn sweet of you.” He keeps staring at me, like he wants to say more.
I can’t read his gaze, which unnerves me, because I usually know exactly what’s up with people. I swallow and he drops his focus to my notebook, like he’s waiting for me to write something.
We both stare at the tip of my pen, the paper expanding beneath it. I write, I touched myself last night.
Tony inhales sharply. His hand slides across the back of my neck and up into my hair. Then his fingers curl slowly and he tugs, pulling my head back against the seat. “You’re just dying to feel my authority, aren’t you, baby?” His lips hover over my ear, the deep notes of his voice reverberating through my body.
I close my eyes, part my lips. Melt into the scene.
“Tell me, songbird, did you come?”
My eyes flutter open and I grip the pen. Yes, but it didn’t satisfy me. My heart pounds in anticipation. I know what I’m inviting. I definitely know I’m playing with fire here. But it’s the first time I’ve been interested in anything in so long. How can I let this moment pass? This opportunity to actually live for once?
“You need me to finish what I started?”
I nod unsteadily.
His grip tightens in my hair, little pinpricks of pain heightening my excitement. “Put your hand between your legs.”
My gaze shoots to his. Is he serious? Here? Now?
He drops my tray table to obscure the view and arches a stern brow.
I pick up my courier bag and plop it on my lap, then slide my hand under the canvas to cup my mons.
Tony’s hand still controls my head, scrunching up my hair in the back. He catches sight of the tiny heart I have tattooed at the base of my skull and groans. Leaning over, he flicks it with his tongue. “That’s so pretty, songbird.” He uses his thumb to lightly stroke the shell of my ear. “Inside your panties now,” he murmurs.
I stop breathing for a moment, but a whisper in my head says, do it. Live a little.
I slide my fingers under the gusset of my panties. I’m wet, and touching myself nearly makes me moan. It’s suddenly way too hot in the airplane cabin.
“Now rub that little clitty. Rub it like it’s Aladdin’s lamp.”
My face goes slack and I slouch in my seat, the pad of my index finger moving over my little button.
“Tap it now. Give it a little spank. That’s what I’m going to do as soon as we get off this plane.”
My chest lifts and falls like the heaving bosom of every heroine in a Regency romance as I obey him, tapping my clit with as much force as I can get without lifting my whole hand.
“Now dip a finger inside that pussy and give me a taste.”
Oh lordy. My face heats and I don’t move for a moment. I’m not sure I can do this.
Tony tugs my hair. “Now, songbird.”
Screw it. I dip a finger in. Lord, I’m wet. The moment my finger enters, my pussy lubricates, making everything slippery and smooth. Delicious. I don’t consider myself a sexual person. My one foray into a sexual relationship was awkward, at best. But right now I’ve never felt like such a sexual being. Like a hedonist, wanting to explore every pleasure possible for my body. I love having a witness, a coach. No, a boss.
Tony’s hand closes around my wrist. “Let me taste.” His gravelly voice almost sounds pained. I remove my finger and let him pull it to his mouth. He gives it a long suck, causing my pussy to squeeze and lift with each sweep of his tongue.
If my voice were capable of sound, I would’ve let out a mewl-the air definitely comes out that way.
He holds my gaze. “Even more delicious than I expected.”
A shiver of pleasure runs through me.
He takes another suck and gives my hand back. “No more touching. Not until I’ve had my mouth on that pussy and hear you scream.”
A mini-orgasm rolls through me. I’m all trembly and horny and ready to go off, and we still have forty minutes until we land.
Tony leans his head toward me. “I take that back. No screaming for you, songbird. That would be a bad idea.”
I can’t help but laugh, lifting my face to his. He’s smiling, his eyes warm and crinkled.
“You’ll just have to”-he waves his hands in the air as if to help him think-“clap for me.”
I giggle and he chuckles, too.
I look away. It’s one thing to have crazy hate sex with this guy, but I definitely don’t want to start liking him. Not when he’s the asshole putting a choke-hold on me and my family.