by Flite, Nora
My eyebrows scrunched sharply down my face. “Who had the brilliant idea to use stock photos instead of living, breathing performers? This is Nashville! You can't throw a stone without hitting someone with talent!”
“The look we want—”
“You hired me,” I cut him off, tapping the table with my finger-tip, “To make sure this ad was flawless. That it was genuine, and would reach the audience you want. That audience, right now, is going to throw these fliers in the trash without a second thought. This screams elitism! You want it to scream authentic!”
Michael studied the mock-ups with a hard frown. “Reshooting new images will take too long. Summer Fest is at the end of the month.”
“I'll have my team help you,” I said, already texting Aubrey. “My personal assistant can arrange everything. Trust me, Michael—everyone,” I added, looking each of them in the eye. “This is the right decision. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't believe we could get it done, and get it done right.”
A few handshakes later and I was rocking in my chair at the end of the conference room table all alone. The single window offered a view of the city below. I propped my chin on my fist, staring through the glass at the blue sky. I was proud I'd stood my ground... confident I was right... but it was still exhausting to imagine the extra work ahead of this campaign.
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my mocha-brown jacket. I fished it out, perking up when I saw it was Conner. We'd exchanged phone numbers and stopped using RingMe this morning. Text messages were more... intimate. It's what real couples used.
Conner: Do you like gambling?
Me: Poker, roulette, or figuratively speaking?
Conner: All of the above. What about dressing up fancy?
Me: I'm a fan of glam in the right setting.
Conner: Great. I'll pick you up at our house at six.
Me: Wait, you won't be there getting ready?
Conner: Errands to run first. You have the spare key?
I reached into my purse, clutching the key he'd handed me this morning. I was smiling like an idiot and I didn't care. He'd called his apartment our home.
Me: It's a date.
Making sure my schedule was clear, I headed for the elevator around 5. I wanted to touch base with Aubrey before I left, but she was on the phone at the front desk. I made a gesture at her—shaping my fingers like a heart over my chest.
She rolled her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and waved for me to go away. If you didn't know her like I did, you'd think it was rude. I breathed easier because it meant she forgave me for snapping that morning.
Before I went to Conner's, I made a quick stop at my place. I had to feed Ariel, and I also needed a fancier outfit than anything I'd packed in my duffel bag. He'd said to dress nice. I wouldn't disappoint.
With supplies in hand, I drove my own car to his place. Our place? I wondered, using the key to get inside. He'd called it that, and I'd liked it, but it wasn't really true.
I wasn't about to act like a complete fool again. Moving in with Ben had been his idea. He'd made it sound wonderful—sharing a bed, combining expenses, coming home at the end of a long day and seeing each others face.
I'd only wanted to make him smile.
Not look at me with disgust.
When he broke up with me, he moved out of our shared apartment overnight, leaving me to pick up the pieces of our relationship. It would have been easier to keep living in the apartment than ending the lease early, but I couldn't stay there if I'd wanted to. All our neighbors had heard the terrible things he'd yelled at me. No one in the building would look me in the eye after that.
I vividly recalled one morning, when I was carrying out my last box of things to load in the moving truck. A young boy who lived across the hall saw me coming. My arms couldn't handle the heavy box—I looked to him for help. He smiled, standing quickly, hurrying to my aid.
His mother snapped at him to get inside. She pulled her son to her like she was protecting him from me, then shut her door in my face. I'd collapsed to the floor, moving box going down with me, kneeling there in muscle-weakening despair. That woman—Clara, I still knew her name—had brought me cookies when I'd moved in with Ben as a house warming gift.
Don't think about the past, I told myself now. Conner doesn't think you're gross, or dangerous, or corrupt. I had to remember his kind words. They were all that mattered.
Wandering into his bedroom, I stretched out the sparkly strapless dress. The silver sequins glinted in the lights. I hadn't had time to examine his bedroom last night or this morning, and I found myself glancing around curiously as I got dressed.
He had a bedside table—in it I found Magnum condoms, which I blushed at and quickly shut away again. On the wall across from the King bed was a long white desk with an expensive looking computer on top. I'd always had a laptop. It suited my needs, but I was mildly envious of people who had such nice electronics.
Once I had the dress zipped, I bent over the computer for a closer look. Was it in sleep mode? Would a simple poke of the mouse bring the screen to life? Don't snoop, I scolded myself. I didn't want to go digging into his privacy anymore than I wanted someone digging into mine.
That was partly why I'd signed up for the RingMe app. It promised anonymous matching, secure data protection, and inherent privacy controls. I could fill in my preferences without explicitly telling anyone, and the app would match me to someone with the same desires.
It had hit the mark with Conner.
Purse in hand and faux-fur coat over my arms, I checked the time, then jogged to the front door. I froze when I got there. Wait, I almost forgot. There was one more thing I had to do.
Pulling the engagement ring from my purse, I slid it carefully back onto my finger. Now I was ready.
I SAW THE GLISTENING water before we turned into the parking lot.
Gasping, I pressed my hands to the car window. “Conner! Is that a riverboat? It's huge!”
He laughed, cutting the engine and helping me out of the car. “The Annie May, it's the biggest floating casino boat that's still operating.”
“Now I get why you told me to dress up,” I said, giving him a nudge with my elbow. In response, he took it, linking it with his own.
“I hope you don't mind. I thought it would be fun to go out and do something special, and an excuse to see you looking so glamorous doesn't hurt.” He swept his eyes over my body. I felt beautiful when he stared at me.
“Stop,” I laughed, shaking my head so hard my hair whipped into my eyes. He looked incredibly pleased at my reaction. I gave his arm a tug. “You clean up nice, too.”
Conner had dressed himself in polished black shoes, matching dark pants with a seam ironed up the leg, and a tucked in wine-red dress shirt. A single button vest was straining over his broad chest. I wondered if he had a tailor, how else could he get such a precise fit on his body?
“Looking good for you is my responsibility,” he said, shooting me a cocky grin. “Make sure you show off your ring tonight. It'll help warn away all the thirsty men.”
“What, worried I'll get flirted with?”
“More like, worried I'll throw someone overboard and get us kicked off the boat.”
My heels tapped on the solid wood of the dock. There was someone gathering tickets at the bottom of the sloped plank that led onto the boat. I craned my neck to study the white paint of its hull. There were railings decorated with bright lights, and towards the end, a huge red paddle. I was surprised that a proper riverboat had been converted into such a luxury vessel.
The man dressed in white and navy-blue took Conner's tickets, scanned them, then smiled at us both. “Go right ahead, and please, enjoy your time with us.”
Another person in the same colored attire offered us glasses of champagne as we walked up the plank and onto the boat. I clinked my glass on Conner's. “Cheers.”
Gentle music floated into my ears the closer we got to the first deck. A crowd of people dressed in elegant outf
its blocked my view; Conner politely, but persistently, pushed us through the group. Suddenly we were in the middle of a Vegas casino set in the 1940s. There was a band standing on a platform. All of them wore glittery red jackets, each of them performing energetically on their instrument. I saw trumpets, a double bass, and a few saxophones.
A bunch of people were dancing near the stage. Others were leaning over poker tables, or huddled by roulette wheels. Gorgeous men and women alike traversed the boat with trays of drinks balanced on their hands. “Wow,” I whispered. “This is something else.”
Conner motioned at a waitress. “Two gin and tonics,” he said, before glancing at me. “Right?”
“You remembered.”
“Of course I did. How could I forget anything about that night.”
I ducked my head, unable to look at him. Oh, yes... that night was very hard to forget. I'd replayed it multiple times.
“Better finish these,” he said, swallowing what was left in his champagne glass. I copied him, enjoying the pleasant burn of alcohol as it rippled through my blood. “Want to play a game while we wait for our drinks, or do you want to dance? Or something else?”
“What else is there?” I meant it as a joke, but his smirk lit a fuse next to my heart. “If there's something you want to do... a game you want to play...” I said curiously. “I want to hear it.”
“The thing I want to do might be too much.”
“You think I can't handle your dirty ideas?”
“Who said it was dirty?”
I blushed furiously. “Oh, sorry, I thought—”
“You're right,” he interrupted me, leaning close, breathing in my ear. “It's very dirty.”
The waitress came over with two highball glasses. Conner handed me mine, taking a small sip from his. He was watching me closely. I wondered if a confident guy like him was worried I'd turn down his suggestion.
Running my finger around the edge of my glass, I said, “I'm waiting.”
“Follow me.”
Chapter 10
From the Storm
THE BOAT HAD MULTIPLE levels. Conner took me down a flight of stairs to a hallway of thin doors. The walls and ceiling were tight—he looked hunched in the space, our bodies pressing together helplessly in the narrow passage.
His hand skimmed over my lower back, resting there, sending hot thrills through my body. “In here,” he said, using a key to open a door. Inside was a bed covered in a crimson blanket, the rug gold and black, the small, circular porthole in the wall the only window.
Edison-style lights glowed on the ceiling and over the bed's headboard. “What are we going to do in here?” I asked.
He handed me a small silk bag from his pocket. “I want you to wear this, then join me upstairs in the casino at the poker table closest to the bar. We're going to pretend we don't know each other.”
“Strangers flirting?” I asked, smiling excitedly.
“And a little extra. That bag is part of the game I want to play.”
I held it up, twirling it on the woven strings keeping it closed. “What is it?”
“You'll see when you open it. The rules of the game are simple.” He bent low, kissing my bare neck, talking with barely controlled lust that made his voice smoky. “Beat me in poker before everyone sees your pretty face twisting as you come.”
Blushing, I felt my panties getting wet. “Why would I come in front of everyone?”
Tipping my chin up, he gave me a soft, lingering kiss. He pulled away—I grabbed for him, but he chuckled, dodging me as he backed towards the exit. “No more touching until after the game.”
Breathing heavily, I clutched the bag. “That's cruel.”
“I know. And you love it.”
He was right, I did. Conner closed the door, leaving me alone with the silk bag. My hands shook as I opened it to look inside. Once I did, I understood his plan.
Beneath a pile of poker chips was a pair of lacy red panties. I felt the small bullet sewn into the front. A remote controlled vibrator. It was like something from my private, dirty dreams. Conner didn't just know my dark perversions.
He shared them.
CONNER WAS SITTING at the poker table, waiting for me. His stare fixed on me hotly. I became acutely aware of the vibrator I was wearing. I was sure he had the remote, and knowing he could turn it on any second, driving me wild, was turning me on like nothing had before.
“Can I join?” I asked.
The dealer nodded her head. “Of course. Buy in is twenty.”
Locking eyes with Conner, I lifted the satin bag. I'd counted out the chips inside—five hundred dollars. I'd wondered when he'd had the time to get all this together. Then I'd remembered about the errands he'd told me he had to do before picking me up at his place.
Had he collected the poker chips and the tickets to the boat then? And had he gone into a sex shop, buying the vibrating panties, assuming I'd agree to his game?
Sitting across from Conner at the long, green-felt table, I placed a twenty-cost chip down. The dealer slid it into the middle. In a flourish she began lying down cards. When I looked at the three in my hand, I crossed my knees, thighs squeezing tight.
Conner made a tiny noise—I looked at him, wondering if he'd give away a hint at his cards. No. He was looking directly at my cleavage. I was already boiling hot with arousal, but I bent forward, getting myself hotter while giving him a better look. Pretending I hadn't noticed he was peeping was just part of acting like we were strangers.
“Raise,” Conner said, tossing two fifty pieces out. I grinned, matching him. He was eager to play. So was I.
He bet twice more before all the cards were on the table. I turned mine over to show what I had. Right away I knew I'd lost the first hand. Not because I looked at his cards, but because the sudden, delicious buzz of the vibrator ran across my clit. “Oh!” I squeaked, covering my mouth, ducking my head when the dealer glanced at me. I saw Conner smirk before I grabbed the fresh glass of champagne a waitress had delivered to the table.
Sipping it, I tried to hide how I wiggled in wanton bliss. The panties were amazing, but more than that, our torrid little secret was turning me on like crazy. Conner didn't let up—I shot him a nervous look. He winked, then turned away, as if there was something more interesting out in the casino. Bastard. This was bad...
“Winner,” the dealer said, motioning at Conner. She gave him my chips, cleared the cards, and dealt again. Phantom vibrations continued on my pussy. He'd finally turned it off. Was the remote in his pocket?
It was hard to pay attention to the next round. I lost that one fast—my hand was bad, so I folded. The vibrator roared to life. I bit my tongue, narrowing my eyes at him in outrage. He read my mind as I inched closer to orgasm right there in public. “Folding is losing,” he explained sweetly. “Is this your first time playing poker, hon?”
“With these special rules it is,” I grumbled. The dealer gave me a side-eye.
Gyrating my hips back and forth, I worked to calm myself. My lungs were bursting with shuddering breaths. This was all too much. I loved it. I also hated to lose anything. That's just how I am.
In my next hand I had two queens and a seven of hearts. On the table, one by one, came a nine, a jack, and another queen. I have three of a kind!
Craving release, fearing it more, I shifted in the chair. I was hunched over my cards, trying to decide if I should raise or call. If I lost this hand, Conner would have no mercy.
If I climaxed in my chair, I knew I'd squeal so loud the whole casino would hear. Did I want to pull a Something About Mary? Fuck. I wanted to come. I wanted to drag him into a dark corner and kiss his cocky mouth, grab his hard-on, fuck him blind. This edge was a dangerous place to balance on.
“All in,” I growled.
The dealer kept her face stoic—Conner lifted an eyebrow. He was acting calm. He was a good actor, I reminded myself.
Without looking at his hand, Conner slid his chips into the middle of the table.
This was it. One of us was going to win, there was no going back.
Both of us stared as the dealer dropped the final card. Queen of spades. “I won,” I laughed, shocked as I spread my hand out. “Four queens.”
Conner pressed a fingertip to his lips. He didn't blink, didn't twitch, as he considered me intently. A flare of heat... of nerves... set my pulse beating to a broken rhythm. What if I was wrong and he had a better hand?
Bracing myself, I waited for my panties to vibrate back to life. They hadn't buzzed since the last hand I'd lost. I was tight from top to bottom, expecting an orgasm to ripple through me without my control.
He laid out his cards with a dry chuckle. “The lady wins.”
I didn't go limp from relief. I bolted to my feet, rounding the table, meeting Conner as he jumped up, too. He grabbed my wrist and held tight. I saw the shape of his erection before he forced me into the blur of the crowd.
“Wait, your chips!” The dealer shouted behind us. We ignored her, even though there was a grand of cold hard cash sitting on the table.
He barged through a door in the hall beyond the casino deck. Was this the same room from earlier, or a different one? I didn't ask questions. Seeing straight was a challenge. What a relief it was when he coiled me against his chest, kissing me, giving me the freedom of closing my eyes. I didn't need to see. He was here.
His weight pressed me to the bed. “Conner,” I whimpered.
“You,” he said, “are a fucking temptress.” His teeth grazed my chin, my throat, a palm tracing over my hard nipples one after the other.
“Ah!” The vibrator tingled over my pussy. He held the remote up, thumb on the button, grin pure smugness. He watched me expectantly as I arched against his body, coming hard in the lace panties. His fingers explored over the soaked fabric—I grabbed his wrists. “Turn it off, fuck!”
Laughing, he did, then ripped the panties into useless shreds. “I need you, Maya,” he said thickly. “Right now. I can't wait anymore.”
