He dealt us each ten cards, then flipped over the next card, the seven of hearts. I picked up my hand and glanced over the lot.
“You know,” he said quietly, from behind his hand. “You never did have a chance with Dario.”
I picked up the seven of hearts and tucked it beside my six, glancing at him as I discarded a King. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I talked to him, the night he took you to dinner.” He picked up a stock card and met my eyes.
“And...?” I hadn’t thought that anyone knew about our date. I’d wanted to keep it under wraps, given our jobs at the casino. But Tripp and Dario were close, as close as brothers. So, I wasn’t entirely surprised that—
“I told him not to date you.” He tossed down a card and folded his hand into a stack, leveling me with his gaze. “I told him that you were mine.”
“You WHAT?” I wouldn’t have been more surprised if he had confessed to being gay. “But you hate me.”
“Did it seem like I hated you in that bar downstairs?”
“Well, no. But—” I scrambled through the memories of the last four years. “You fired me last year. You told Rand I was incompetent.”
“I didn’t fire you. I had a bad day, and you happened to be the closest thing to me when it happened.” His mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Plus, I like it when your temper flares. You get a look that makes me hard.”
“Am I giving you that look right now?” I growled, fighting the urge to throw my cards in his face.
“Why don’t you come over here and see?”
Heat hit my cheeks, and I fell back on my stool, my heart beating faster at the thought of him, stiff in his pants, and all over a look. I picked my hand back up and stared down at the cards.
“I couldn’t let him have you.”
I drew a card. “Did it ever occur to you to ask me what I thought of things?”
“I could tell what you thought of things. You thought Dario Capece was a knight in shining armor. You tripped all over yourself, trying to get his attention.”
I glared up at him. “If I was so pathetic, why did you want me for yourself? And at least I tried to go after who I wanted. You just sat over there, keeping people away from me and acting like a teenage boy.”
He lifted his chin. “Seems to have worked out pretty well for me, considering I’m about to fuck you ten ways to Sunday.”
“You got lucky,” I countered. “And I’m not entirely sure we are having sex.”
“You came apart from my finger in the middle of the bar. I’m entirely sure that you aren’t up here for free tequila.”
I laid down a set and ignored the point, which could be underlined in red Sharpie by the arousal throbbing between my legs. The truth of the matter was, I’d come up here precisely for that goal … only now I felt thoroughly confused. My body was still barreling down the path toward kinky happy times with Tripp, but his comments were turning my brain into mush.
He tucked a Jack into the end of my set and laid down his own set, discarding a five and giving me a cocky grin. Game over.
I tossed my hand down. “Fine. Three kisses. Pucker up.”
“Oh… Steph.” He swiveled on his stool and patted his thigh. “It’s not going to be that easy.”
I slowly rose to my feet, coming around the end of the bar and stopping before him.
He patted his thigh again, his meaning clear.
I moved forward and carefully perched on his leg, crossing my ankles and pinning my knees together. “I’m a little too old to sit on your lap.”
“Shh…” He ran a hand down the front of my dress shirt, thumbing open a button on his way down. “Just let me enjoy this.” His hand settled on the top of my thigh and gently caressed the place where my hemline ended. “Now… for my first kiss.”
I leaned forward and placed my hands on his shirt, lowering my mouth to his.
He turned his head. “Not there.”
I pulled back, surprised when his hand ran back up my front, pulling at the buttons and exposing my chest. “I’m taking my first kiss somewhere else.” He slid his other hand up my back, undoing my bra strap.
“What are you…?”
He popped the last button free on the front of my shirt and pulled it open, skimming it down my arms. I cooperated, pulling my arms free, then crossed my arms over my chest.
He clicked his tongue in disapproval and pulled my arms open, shedding my bra. “Don’t ever cover these up. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about these. And fuck…” He lowered his mouth and brushed his lips over the left nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking over it. “They are beautiful.” He reached out and dipped his fingers in the chocolate syrup drizzled over the edges of the plate, then traced a light swirl across each nipple.
I looked down at my chocolate-covered nipples and felt lightheaded. “You’ve been thinking about my breasts?” I barely managed the question as his mouth settled on my nipple. He gently sucked, his lips and tongue working gently over the sensitive bud, and I almost came off his lap.
God, it had been almost a year, before my breasts had gotten any stimulation, other than a once-over with my washcloth. I clutched at his head, encouraging his action, and reminded myself of who he was.
Tripp Reinhart. I was sitting on Tripp Reinhart’s lap. His big strong hands on my breasts, lifting them into his greedy mouth. My bare pussy against his dress pants.
I hadn’t been coy when I’d said that he hated me. I had thought, since the day I was hired at the Beau, that he had it out for me, and not in a yank-off-my-panties sort of way. He’d always scared me, his brooding glare in place since the moment he’d walk in the door. The only time I’d ever seen him crack a smile was when he’d been talking with Dario, and in those rare moments when one would flash across his handsome features… it was like seeing a hummingbird. Fleeting. Special. It happened, and then you questioned whether it had actually come.
There was a reason I’d fixated on Dario instead, and it had had everything to do with accessibility and chance, and nothing to do with one man’s appeal over the other. He and Dario didn’t compete as much as complement each other. Dario was the flirt, the playboy, the velvet glove around Tripp Reinhart’s iron fist.
How would things change once Dario left? Maybe the two of them would grow into closer versions of each other. Dario could use some settling down and seriousness. And Tripp? He could learn to lighten up, smile more, and give a little.
He was currently giving A LOT, my crossed ankles beginning to loosen, my thighs opening up, and I tightened my grip on his shirt to keep from touching myself. His mouth moved to the other breast, his teeth scraping along my cleavage, and I whispered out his name in reverence, encouraging him. I grabbed the back of his head, scraping my nails through his thick hair and pulled it tighter on my breast.
His hands left me, and I was distracted by movement along my thigh. I heard the clink of a belt buckle, the zip of his pants, and when he lifted his head, his delicious mouth leaving me, his eyes were dark with need.
“Second kiss,” he said hoarsely. “This one from you.”
“Second kiss?” I swallowed, the cool air of the penthouse hitting my wet nipples. I wanted more. I needed his warm hands on them, or the friction of his chest, brushing back and forth over them as he thrust, harder and harder…
“Here.” He pulled my hand from his shirt and placed it on his cock, and I dropped my gaze to it, my mouth dropping open in surprise.
The rumors were true. Tripp Reinhart was huge. Like, circus freak in a cage, huge. Like—I’m not entirely sure I wanted this inside my body—huge. I wrapped my hand around his long dick and gave it an experimental stroke. He let out a soft groan of encouragement and I did it again, my fist journeying from the base of him all the way to his swollen tip. He wasn’t just hard—he was steel. He didn’t bend in my hand, didn’t squish any when I squeezed him, and I don’t know how he didn’t rip a hole in his pants when he was just sitting here.
I mean, what did he do with it all day?
“You like it?” His voice was dark and guttural, the sort that could sell a thousand erotic audiobooks, should he ever want a second career.
“I’m a little afraid of it,” I admitted.
“Don’t be. I don’t typically use all of it.” He gently pressed on my shoulder. “Put your mouth on it.”
“This is your second kiss?” I let out a strangled laugh. “There?”
He leaned back, resting his arms on the bar, and let his cock bob in between us, answering the question. I slid off his thigh, my skirt bunching up, and he hissed at the view. Still, he didn’t move. “On your knees, beautiful.”
“Just a kiss,” I countered, my knees hitting the floor, and thank God he had a kitchen mat. Closing my eyes, I pressed a kiss on the delicate underside of his shaft.
4
TRIPP
Holy fuck. He thought he had control, but when her lips hit his cock, he lost it all. His hands tightened on the granite and he tensed his thighs, restraining himself from thrusting forward into her face. His dick didn’t know what to do around her. He’d jacked off to this image a hundred times—Stephanie Wilson, on her knees, those beautiful eyes on his, her tongue swiping across the head of his cock. Just last week, after he watched her employee evaluation, he’d had to lock his door and jerk off behind his desk, his dress shoes slipping across the carpet as he’d nut all over a napkin.
There were many things he wanted out of life. A giant home on the bayou. Kids running around, his blood in their veins. A bank account fat enough to buy all of them a future. But nothing had motivated him more in the last three years than this woman.
Dario was right, he had been a coward, and should have tightened that shit up earlier, and stopped their date before it had occurred. But he’d been in Lafayette when Dario had first hung out with Stephanie, and hadn’t had a chance to stop it until it was almost too late.
Something hit the window and Tripp glanced over his shoulder, the howling of the wind barely audible behind the thick glass. The hurricane was almost there, and it felt like fate, the storm surrounding them, keeping them together for the next few hours, damn whatever happened during that time.
She flicked her naughty little tongue over the tip of his cock and his need grew. He fought the desire to urge her on, taking his hand and wrapping it on top of hers, showing her how he liked to be stroked. He wanted to move his hips in short strokes as she pumped him to completion, that wet little mouth wrapped around his head, sucking… just the thought made him almost lose it, and he pulled away from her, gripping his cock in one hand and slowly rubbing the tip of it over her lips. “Open up,” he said hoarsely.
She obeyed without fear or hesitation, and he may have spent three years pining for this woman, but he’d also underestimated her. He gently slid just the tip in her open mouth, then withdrew it, watching as she chased it down, her hand closing around its shaft. She dove onto it, working her lips over the head, her cheeks hollowing, head bobbing as she blessed him with the most perfect five seconds of his life.
An orgasm teetered, unsure and unstable, and he pulled back before she took him over the edge. Fuck, when had he become so quick? His dick had experienced everything a woman could throw at it—yet couldn’t seem to handle thirty seconds with her mouth?
It was bullshit and he jerked his hand along its length, irritated with himself.
She waited, still on her knees, her nipples red and perky from his mouth, and tilted her head at me. “Give me it,” she demanded—and his heart fell even deeper in love.
He shook his head. “Just a kiss,” he reminded her gruffly.
“Tease,” she retorted. “What are your plans for the third?”
He leaned down and lifted her onto her feet. “The third one belongs to me.”
“Meaning?”
When he set her down, his hands stayed on her hips. Their faces were too close, his height combated by his position, his dick still stubbornly sticking straight out of his slacks. Her breasts hung out and wrecked torture on his brain. She lifted her chin, offering her mouth, and he shook his head. As badly as he wanted to kiss that delicious mouth, he had something else in mind.
He slowly turned her around, taking his time as he ran his hand down her bare back, admiring the curves and dips of her body, then worked the cheap clasp at the top of her skirt open. Dario and him… Stephanie—they were all outsiders in this decadent casino. He and Dario had earned the big suites, the corporate accounts at the Gucci and Armani stores downstairs, but Stephanie was in the same boat they had all grown up in. Shopping at TJ Maxx. Counting her dollars. Working her ass off to help pay for her parents and her bills.
One day, he’d give her everything, but right now, he focused on what he could provide: pleasure.
He took the zipper further down and was reminded of her lack of underwear—a memory that brought his dick raging back to attention. Dropping the skirt at her ankles, he crouched down and picked up her left foot, then her right, helping her out of her heels.
She was so compliant, her hands on the counter, trusting him as he traveled back up her body, his hands and mouth exploring every muscle, curve, and dip. He got to that beautiful ass and gently bit it, slapping it gently with his other hand as he lifted away from her and stood. “Go get on the bed. Bedroom is to the left. On your back.”
She turned, her eyes meeting his for a moment, and she crooked one brow in what appeared to be a challenge. “Yes, sir,” she mocked.
The meek accountant he’d spent three years yearning for had flown away in the gusts of the storm. This woman was a bigger, bolder version of her. Sexual in ways he had only fantasized about, with confidence that made his dick stand at attention. He’d always envisioned a slow seduction of Stephanie Wilson, complete with baby steps into bed, slow love-making that took years to progress into everything that turned him on.
He had been wrong, and he’d never been so happy to misread tells in his life.
He reached into the pocket of his dress slacks. Wrapping his hand around the handcuffs, he brought them out and set them on the counter.
5
STEPHANIE
I was crawling onto the bed when he entered the room, now completely naked. Somehow, his dick seemed even bigger, and I swallowed as I moved back onto the giant white bed, remembering what he had said to me. I don’t typically use all of it. How much of a wanton slut was I that I wanted him to use all of it? I mean, what was the point of having all of that and not using all of it?
He stopped at the end of the bed. Behind him, the bathroom light was on, the silhouette of his body enhancing every muscle in his frame yet hiding his face from me. What was he thinking? I sat on my knees and crossed my hands over my breasts, suddenly nervous.
“I have another bet for you.” His hand moved forward and he tossed two dice on the bed. They rolled along the mattress and stopped.
“What kind of bet?”
“I still have a third kiss to collect from you. Roll under a six, and I get to do it with these on you.” He tossed a second item on the bed and I leaned forward, the gleam of the metal doing something twisted in my stomach. I picked up the handcuffs, sliding my hand into one and tugging at the chain, feeling the bite of the metal into my wrist.
“And what if I roll over a six?”
I saw a grin cross over his features, a hint of white teeth visible in the dark. “Then you can put them on me and use that kiss however you like.”
“Hmm…” I picked up the dice and considered the game. “And if I don’t want to play?”
He put one knee on the bed, then another, crawling toward me. It was an incredibly erotic picture, one of pure masculine prowess as he came closer, then crawled over me, pulling my feet out from under me and laying me down on the mattress. His skin was hot, and I curled around him, anxious for the contact, my hands skimming over his muscles, grabbing at his ass, and then finding and wrapping around his cock. He panted my name as I squee
zed his stiff shaft, his mouth skimming over my neck and he kissed the hollow of my neck before moving higher and growling in my ear. “Easy…” He gently tugged at my earlobe with his teeth. “You don’t know what that is doing to me.”
I could guess. I could feel the twitch of his cock, the way it was thickening even more.
He pushed a little off of me, sitting back and repositioning my legs so that I was open to him, the back of my thighs against the front of his, his dick heavy on my stomach. I reached for it, and he sternly batted me away.
“It’s so big,” I murmured.
“And it’s all yours,” he promised. “But first…” He scooped up the dice and shook them in his hand. “Do you want to play?”
* * *
Did I want to play? My last sexual encounter lasted three minutes on the couch of my ex’s living room. He belched, then rolled aside and increased the volume on the tv. Prior to him, I’d had two forgettable encounters at LSU, neither of which progressed past third base. The minute I came on Tripp’s fingers in the bar, I was ready to handcuff myself to his bed, pledge eternal loyalty to his cock, and become his sex slave for life.
“You roll them,” I said, my eyes on his. “Higher than six, I use the handcuffs. Lower than six, you do.”
He smirked at me, then dropped the dice, the gold cubes dancing over my stomach and coming to a stop, one in my belly button, the other resting along my cleavage. I stayed still, trying not to bump the dice, and watched as he lifted one up and looked at it.
He turned it to me. A two.
My breath quickened and I had the sudden vision of him sitting in the armchair by the window, his hands handcuffed behind his back, his dick sticking straight up, legs flexing, my hands and mouth free to torture him. I’d start on my knees. Get him slick and ready, and then straddle him. Control the depth of that long perfect cock as I slowly lowered myself on and off.
ALL IN: A Romantic Suspense Page 42
