Reckless Gamble: a billionaire high stakes suspense romance (City Sinners Book 4)

by Kenna Shaw Reed

  “I have a job to do.”

  “I don’t want to talk about your job, or your clients, or even about how you played that last hand.”

  “Well, I’ve tried kissing, and you don’t want to do that,” I sighed, trying to rip out my elastic band.

  “Please don’t.” Scott crossed the room to hold my wrist. “I want GG. Not Carlynn.”

  Finally, I’d found the man inside the shell, “Then show me your best hand.”

  “Like this?” Setting aside our glasses, Scott pulled me to the bed.

  “Seriously, that’s your best hand?” I tried to hide my disappointment behind a laugh. Where was the edgy darkness? The broken man who wanted to make me shatter? I wanted Scott, the real Scott. Not this new age gentleman.

  “Oh, but little girl, you haven’t proven you can play with the big boys, yet.” His smokey eyes twinkled as he swept the flower petals and cards to the floor. Giving a handful of chocolates close inspection, “I know exactly what to do with these!”

  This was more the man I’d been expecting. I lay back with legs extended while Scott meticulously unwrapped one of the chocolates, the crinkling of the foil wrapper the only sound.

  “Now,” he growled, “What have you got on under that skirt?”

  I shivered as the chocolate left a faint trail up my inner thigh. Pushing my knees apart with his, Scott sat in between my legs, unwrapping another chocolate. I could still feel the first one resting against my panties. Imagining it melting from the heat Scott seemed to be able to command. “I asked you a question.”

  “I figured a smart man would find it out himself.”

  This time, two chocolates massaged up and down my inner legs. I became fascinated by the two trails. Which one would win the race?

  “You asked for this, remember!” Scott reached back and handed me my glass. “No, don’t sit up, I want you to hold that without spilling.”

  “Really?” I’d expected so much better. The chocolate was a nice touch, otherwise this was child’s play. Vanilla. Benign.

  “Here’s another glass, to keep your other hand busy.”

  “You want me to hold them.”

  “If you spill even a drop, I stop.”

  “Stop what?” I started, only to almost lose both glasses as his head dipped between my legs. His tongue following the chocolate trail. “Ohhh, Ahhhhhhhh, Scott!”

  “That’s your only warning.”

  Setting the chocolates to join the first, he shoved up my skirt until all that stood in his way were the bright red lace panties I’d bought with him in mind.

  My hands trembled as he unwrapped another two chocolates. One in his right hand following the wet path up my legs while the other went straight for my wet panties.

  “Remember, not a drop.”

  “Please don’t stop.” My voice wasn’t my own. Panting, trying to link coherent words together. Desperately wanting to feel more of the soft chocolate. I assumed where Scott would go next, but this man was proving anything but predictable.

  “Not a drop,” he warned.

  “Not a chance. Do your best,” I challenged.

  “Raising the stakes?”

  “Can you handle it?”

  “Not a fucking drop.”

  I watched as he placed a half-melted chocolate on the tip of his tongue. Expecting him to suck it or do something equally as erotic, I almost lost more than the glasses when he dived.

  “Ohhh, yes!”

  My panties were flicked out of the way, by his tongue and fingers. Even thinking of the melting chocolate being pushed inside me, mixing with my juices, made me want to press his head firmer to my pussy. Being trapped by holding the glasses, I tried to squeeze him closer with my thighs.

  Arching my back in time with each thrust, willing him to go deeper, I craved to play with his hair or take some control.

  “Scott, oh, Scott. Please get rid of these glasses.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “Anything else.” He looked up, showing me another half-melted chocolate. “Use your words, tell me what you want.”

  “Please,” I had no other words.

  “Talk to me or I’ll stop.”

  “I want more.”

  “More of what, be specific. More of this?” Instead of chocolate, I felt the harsh scratch of nails.

  “Yes.”

  “More of this?” Another chocolate massaged my bud, almost melting on impact.

  “Oh, yes,” I writhed, wanting to move but daring to believe he’d actually stop. If he did, I’d be prepared to defend a murder charge.

  “Use your words.” He left a chocolate lip stain on one of the glasses before diving down again.

  “Deeper,” I cried. The cool champagne an exquisite contrast to my warmth.

  “Like this?” Fingers joined tongue. I hated being trapped by the glasses but the thought of him stopping held me fast. Of all the men I’d met, Scott was the last I’d expect to deny me even a hint of control.

  How on earth could I reward him?

  I had no words.

  No idea.

  Every nerve alive, yet all brain cells had dissolved.

  “More, yes, more!” I panted, unable to keep holding on. My only defense was months of foreplay leading to this moment.

  “I’m—” I cried as the spasms rocked. Champagne spilled across us. I’d given up on the champagne, locking my legs around Scott. Holding him in place.

  Not wanting him to leave. Not this bed, not ever.

  Ever so gently, he kissed my tender bud, between my thighs and slowly kissed up to my lips.

  Only then did I realize, other than my skirt around my waist, I was still fully clothed. Boots still on. Breasts still covered.

  “My best hand is actually a tongue lashing!” Scott smiled, taking a moment to refill our spilt glasses. “Now, where were we?”

  “I have no idea! I think, you quite successfully fucked my brains out,” I laughed, shaking out my arms.

  “Not yet, I haven’t. But give it time!” Still laughing, he released the straps from my bustier. I wanted to blame the air conditioning for my pebbled nipples, but the chocolate and champagne kisses were also contenders.

  “My turn,” I purred, time to take control. Finishing my glass, I set it aside. Scott had been careful not to even grind against me. Wanting to see his reaction, I felt my way down his chest to the belt. Fumbling fingers undid the clasp before the button and zipper gave way.

  Long, thick, throbbing.

  Mine.

  I covered his cock in pre-cum. Loving how easily my fingers glided up and down his erect shaft. Feeling him twitch with each long stroke. His eyes glazed while mine had never felt clearer.

  “Be careful, it hasn’t been out of the garage for a while.” He leaned over, finally giving me access to his shirt. The tiny buttons not wanting to make it easy for my trembling fingers. I’d never done, well, that before. Certainly not as the first time with a partner.

  “I’d promise to take things nice and slow.”

  I’d meant the words when I said them.

  Then, I uncovered his shirt. I knew he was older than my ex, but his body belied his age. Taut muscles, he hardly needed to flex for his abs to form hard ridges. A smattering of chest hairs, enough to play with and tease, not enough to hide his nipples that responded to gentle nails.

  This man, was worth the wait.

  “I lied.”

  Slow wasn’t in Scott’s future. Neither was nice. His trousers quickly ended up at his ankles, and his shirt flung across the room. My skirt wasn’t going to give us any trouble and I was too busy wanting to explore his chest to worry about my own.

  Linking my ankles together, I pulled him close. Wanting more than just kisses, although they’d be a decent second course.

  “Lied?” He breathed into my mouth.

  “I don’t want nice and slow. I want—”

  “Wait!” Scott kissed me before reaching back down to his trousers, retur
ning with a sheepish grin and plastic wrapper. “Call it wishful thinking.”

  “How about I call you well prepared, but not Boy Scout material.”

  He paused, for a moment, at my entrance. Waiting for permission? I mean, how much more permission did he want?

  “GG?”

  “Scott,” I sighed my answer, his name crushed within his kiss. Body pressed to mine; my nails found his back. Loving the way he trembled as each nail caressed each rib, before digging into his ass. Pushing him towards me, forcing him to let go.

  “Fuck!”

  Did Scott moan, or was it me? He edged inside, gradually filling me.

  Then he unleashed. Long, deep thrusts. With each stroke, I felt the tingles of another orgasm rise. His mouth crashed against mine, his tongue fucking me in time with his cock. Each stroke purposeful, meaningful.

  Not even the crash of breaking glass halted his stride. His hand sliding down to create more friction where my clit didn’t need further encouragement.

  Faster, I wanted him to pump me faster. I wanted to drown in him, or at least have Scott drown in me.

  “Yes, yes, yes—”

  Only when I cried, Scott withdrew. I gasped. Seriously? Did he have a death wish?

  “Patience,” he said, smiling and flipping me onto my stomach.

  “Come here!” He pulled my hips high enough to entrap his cock, only to push my back down. My hips collapsing against his hand. Shallow thrusts while his fingers continued their massage. I almost drew blood, biting down to stifle a scream. I’d never been a screamer—but I’d never known a man like Scott. What about him? His needs?

  “Come for me.”

  “Scott,” I sighed, trying to buck. To give him a fraction of what he was doing to me.

  “Come on, GG. Come for me.”

  “But—”

  “Come for me, baby. I want to feel how tight you are.”

  “What about you?” Coming again was too easy, but surely he deserved something for his trouble?

  “Come, damn it, come!” he demanded, continuing to pump as his fingers did their work.

  “I—I’m—I’m—” If he didn’t know the difference between fake and real, then no words were gonna make a difference.

  “Ahh,” he cried moments later, collapsing in satisfied exhaustion.

  “Was that your best hand?” I needed to say something, and either thanking him or congratulating him for a job well done, wasn’t our style. Willing my heart not to go into cardiac arrest, I reached over to share the sole surviving glass.

  “We’ve got all weekend to find out.”

  The perfect weekend came to a crashing halt twenty-four hours later.

  From competitors to lovers, to—whatever the hell could survive the complications that was our life.

  As if by mutual consent, we lived in the moment. Making love most of the night, feeding each other the meals that had gone cold. Scott even appreciated the irony of toasted cheese sandwiches. Made to my secret recipe.

  We talked.

  A lot.

  Scott was an active shareholder in companies ranging from online retail to aged care property development. Three of his companies had been my clients.

  He talked about his frustration with consultant reports that only told the Board what he’d been trying to tell them informally. My reports had made a difference. My reports only confirmed what he’d already suspected.

  Our thinking was aligned.

  Our bodies enjoyed being aligned.

  If only the planets weren’t so out of kilter, this could have been the start of something, permanent.

  Except, I would never betray my client’s confidence. If they didn’t name me as their consultant, or if Scott didn’t connect the dots between Carlina Hargraves and Carlynn Rush, I couldn’t and wouldn’t.

  Except, one day my secrets were bound to explode, taking anyone I loved as collateral damage.

  I could live in the moment.

  “Can you believe that neither of us ended up winning?” Scott’s warm breath sent tingles to every part of my body he’d already adored.

  By the time the last table fell, and the winners’ purses handed out, we were a couple. At least, in front of a room full of strangers, within the safe anonymity of Katoomba, we were a couple. All day, Scott’s hand had a permanent place either in the small of my back or gripping my hand.

  Yesterday, we’d run up the stairs.

  Today, I could nestle a little longer into his chest, waiting for the elevator. Crowds of happy, and tired players milled around ready to fight for cabs or to continue the party.

  “Oh, I won alright, just not at cards.” Scott rewarded my answer with a kiss. Gentle, sweet. Soft enough not to even bruise a rose petal. He had so many levels of intensity left to explore. “Exactly my point! How was I supposed to concentrate on cards when I kept thinking about kisses like that, about last night and then breakfast in bed.”

  “Winning is in the eyes of the victor, and babe, I hit jackpot.” Scott deadpanned.

  “You say the sweetest things.”

  The elevator pinged and without any reason to procrastinate further, Scott escorted me inside, pressing the button to our floor.

  “How long will it take to pack up your things?”

  “Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.” I hid my face within his chest, for comfort as much as avoiding his eyes. “I guess it would have been more efficient to come in the same car.”

  Scott tightened his grip until the elevator stopped. Only then, lifting my chin with a fingertip and brushing my loose waves from my face. Tucking the long strands behind my ear. My signature ponytail had disappeared with my luck in the first hour of play. Scott at least had stuck around until the final three.

  “We need to decide what happens next.”

  He’d timed the parting gift for exiting the elevator. Hand still around mine, but for how long?

  “I need that contract with Softli, and Mason wants to meet with me first thing tomorrow.” I sucked in my breath, waiting for the impact.

  “Mason isn’t going to thank either of us for getting involved.”

  “Neither will Jarryd or Lachlan.”

  “The guys already resent being beaten by a woman.” Scott looked to see if his comment offended. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. They can’t have you. They can’t buy you and they can’t beat you. You blow their mind and—”

  “I know. It’s a man’s world and women are there to fill the glasses, not empty their wallets.”

  “I never treated you like that.”

  “No,” I admitted. “Your dislike of me was pretty personal.”

  “No, it was me. My head wasn’t in the right place and I took it out on everyone.”

  “Equal opportunity asshole?”

  “You’re changing the subject.” Scott opened our door. Neither of us made a move inside. As if we were literally one step from our end.

  “Sooooo?” I drew out the long question.

  “What does that mean for us?” Braced against the door, just like he had only yesterday, this time Scott pulled me close. I felt his arms trembling and wanted to reassure both of us we could do this.

  I wanted to savor the beat of his heart, record it and play it on loop at night when the nightmares came back. When the anxiety tried to hold my head under water.

  We hadn’t slept much last night, but when I had, it was deeper than I’d slept in months. Years, maybe.

  “What about us?” Scott said, kissing my hair.

  “This weekend has been amazing.” I reached up to stroke his cheek. Trying to burn the impression within my brain. “But—”

  “You’ve got a job to do and I’m the asshole who’s gonna make you work for your commission.”

  “You’ve got a job to do and I’m the bitch who’s gonna come in and tell your boss how you can do it better.”

  “Nothing personal?”

  “See, that’s where we have a problem. I have no personal life. Work and cards, that’s it.
”

  “So?”

  “So, when you attack me professionally, it’s impossible not to take it personally.”

  “GG?” He called as I collected my already packed bag and checked the bathroom for anything I’d missed.

  “What?” I couldn’t pretend to be happy. We were who we were.

  “Let’s table this conversation for later?”

  “Your version of I’ll call you?”

  “My version of, I want to think we have unfinished business.”

  I left Scott to check us out. Needing to hide in my car and hope the blast of air condition would dry my tears before they became a danger to other drivers.

  “Did you have a good weekend?”

  Mason Winters greeted me, far too happy and alive for eight am on a Monday morning. Then again, from his damp hair and gym bag next to his desk, I assumed he’d been awake for hours.

  The little things. My job was to notice the little things, paint a picture and then sell it back to the client as a story.

  “A lovely weekend in the mountains, but I still had time to read the papers your team sent over.”

  For a moment longer, I lingered in front of his windows. Already there were people out on the Harbour. Enjoying life, while I was about to—

  I sighed, turning back to one of Mason’s offered visitor chairs.

  “Ms.Rush, you come highly recommended and I hope I can count on your discretion.”

  He’d dropped the casual good guy vibe from the restaurant but hadn’t hit pit-bull since my altercation with Scott. Still, he stared, waiting for my nod.

  Seriously, dude, I’ve made my reputation on discretion.

  “I don’t list clients. I don’t talk about my clients. If you are willing to provide a reference for me, then I’ll appreciate it, but will only put you forward once the client is an almost certainty, and with your approval.”

  “Thank you, but we’ve covered that before. I trust your discretion when it comes to talking about Softli, but it’s your discretion within Softli that I’m more concerned about.”

  “What do you need?”

  “I want you to identify ways to address my growing debt book; but I also want you to look at it from a particular lens.”

  “Mr. Winters—” This was my chance to tell him about my recent conflict of interest. But how exactly could I start? There’s this guy that I’ve been playing cards with. Didn’t know he was your CFO. He didn’t know I was Carlynn. Well, last weekend we kind of exchanged some body fluids. No.