Rolling the Dice (All In Duet #0.5)

by Alessandra Torre

  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 squeezed 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.

  He picked the second dice and his brows lifted. I raised my head, struggling to see it. A six. My fantasy dissolved, and I glanced at the handcuffs with trepidation.

  “Don’t worry,” he smiled. “I—”

  An alarm blared, a light flashing from the corner of the room, the loud siren scaring the hell out of me. I screamed, and he lifted me to his chest and rolled, gathering me against him. “IT’S OKAY,” he yelled, his voice barely audible even though it was directly in my ear.

  His hands cupped either side of my head, softening the noise, and I relaxed against his chest, watching the strobe light flash from a speaker in the corner of the room. When it finally stopped, my ears were ringing, and I lifted my head slowly, almost afraid to expose them again.

  “Don’t worry.” He gripped my waist. “That’s protocol.”

  “So, nothing’s wrong? Nothing’s on fire?”

  “It’s a final evacuation test. The system will be watching for opened doors as a result of the alarm, things to point us in the direction of any guests that are still in-house.”

  My concerns ebbed away at his touch, sweeping over and caressing my breasts, giving the nipples special attention. Who would have thought that Tripp Reinhart’s touch could be so gentle? I watched as he reached over, swiping across the bed and picking up the first set of handcuffs. Lifting up my wrist, he fastened one on with the efficiency of a pro.

  “Look.” He turned my hand over. “Here’s the release.” He pressed on the lever and the cuffs popped open. “I’m leaving them loose, so you’ll be able to hit it if you need to.”

  He rolled us over and nodded to the front of the bed. “Grab ahold of the frame.”

  6
>
  TRIPP

  If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. She worked her way up the bed and grabbed two of the chrome spindles, watching with interest as he clipped each of her wrists to the bed, giving her enough freedom to move around, without being able to touch him.

  “Done this before?” she asked dryly.

  He met her eyes. “Yes.”

  It wasn’t the most romantic answer in the world. Then again, with everything he was about to do to her, romance wasn’t exactly part of the equation. Still, he felt the need to soften the statement. “But never with a woman like you.”

  He ran his hands down her arms and over her breasts, skimming along her stomach and to her thighs, pressing them open and staring down at her smooth bare pussy. She was perfect. Every fold, the pink rainbow of skin, moist and wet. Her breath quickened, and he watched as it flared, calling to him. She tried to pin her knees together. He tightened his grip, holding her open. He lowered his mouth and blew a breath over her before he closed the distance and took her into his mouth.

  She came alive, her body moving, the handcuffs rattling, her back arching off the ground. He did little, keeping his mouth soft, his tongue gently exploring, and he listened as she moaned, then went silent, then tensed.

  She was a roadmap, easy to read, and he waited until he found her direction. Her cries hit a new pitch, her thighs tensing under his hands, and then he kept his tongue light and constant, maintaining the rhythm as she pulsed and shuddered under his mouth.

  He lowered himself to the bed, his dick straining for stimulation, her sounds so erotic that he could barely keep his head straight. He fucked the mattress as he pleased her, and when she came, he had to lift his hips off the bed just to keep his own orgasm at bay.

  She cried out his name, bucking her hips, and he let her thighs go. They closed around his head, pinning his mouth to her as she rutted against his face without abandon, her groans turning into grunts as she wheezed out a breath, her muscles loosening, thighs falling open, and he softened everything, his mouth gently mellowing as her orgasm faded.

  “Fuck me sideways,” she breathed. “That was insane.”

  She had no fucking idea. He reached up on the bed and knocked open one handcuff, then the other. Yanking open the bedside table, he grabbed a foil condom and stuck it in his mouth, moving back on the bed, his need for her overriding any ability to stick to the plan, to take it slow and seduce her.

  He ripped open the package and pulled out the condom. “I need to fuck you.”

  She pulled her knees up, her legs open, and looked at him through hooded eyes. “Please.”

  He barely had the condom on before he was between her open legs, his cock crying for contact. He put the tip of it against her and stopped.

  “What?” she gasped. “What are you doing?”

  His brain, which had been paralyzed with arousal during her orgasm, re-awoke. He took a moment and looked over her. Her skin was flushed, her nipples hard, a sheen of sweat across her chest. Her hair, always so prim and perfect, was loose across his pillow, her eyes heavy with pleasure, her legs open for him. Her pussy was wet and ready, the taste of her sweetness still on his tongue.

  This was Stephanie fucking Wilson. His future. His heart. And he had her. He had her for one fucking night, and he was about to fuck her before he’d even kissed her.

  He lowered himself above her and ignored the needy thrust of her hips, her greedy pussy trying to get at his dick. He placed a soft kiss on her left breast, then her right, silently promising them another thousand kisses in the future. He moved up her neck, and she cried out his name, her hands clutching at him, her wet pussy bumping against his hips.

  He paused, just over her lips, and met her eyes. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he said huskily.

  “I need you,” she begged. “Please.”

  He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her. It was brief, a brush of lips, and he positioned his hips above hers, stealing another kiss, this one deeper, her tongue meeting his, a tiny fire of chemistry sparking. His dick found its home and he gently thrust, her inhale captured against his tongue. He withdrew and pushed a little deeper. Her body gripped him like a glove—a warm tight glove that he never wanted to leave. She was perfect, her pussy greedy, flexing and squeezing, her voice urging him on as her hands clawed at his back.

  His worry of her pain dissolved in her pleasure, her body opening and adjusting quickly, and he pushed deeper into her than he’d ever gone in a woman before. “Is it—”

  She screamed his name, her heels digging into him, and when he pulled back to see her face, the look of her orgasm took him over the edge. His thighs tightened, his breaths turning into animalistic grunts and he quickened his motion, his pleasure peaking. He groaned as his cock sprayed forth his release.

  7

  STEPHANIE

  I was in his shower, running a thick washcloth over my shoulders when the power went out. The bathroom was suddenly dark, the water still running, and I quickly rinsed off and twisted the knob, stopping the spray.

  I heard the door open and a faint bit of light entered the room.

  “You okay?” Tripp called out.

  “Yeah.” I could see the shower door handle gleam in the dim light and I reached for it, cautiously stepping out. “Can you pass me a towel?”

  I reached out and was surprised when I felt the fluffy towel enclose me. He worked it over me, gently rubbing my shoulders, then my back, taking his time in drying my breasts, before shimmying it down my body and over my legs. I laughed. “I feel like a dog.”

  I felt his lips and the scruff of his stubble as he brushed a kiss onto my shoulder.

  “Stay here.”

  There was the sound of a door in the dark, and then he worked my arms through a bathrobe and cinched it around me. He opened the door fully and tugged on my hand, bringing me through the dressing area and into his bedroom.

  The far wall was all dark windows and I glanced for his bedside table clock, then remembered the power outage. “What time is it?”

  “Almost nine.”

  It was ominous, how dark it was. A streak of lightning hit the horizon, and everything was illuminated for a moment. I gasped at the sight, the waves rough, the huge clouds everywhere, bearing down on us.

  “Come in the living room. You can see everything there.”

  I followed him into the open room, and he was right. The view there was of the south end of the building, emergency spotlights illuminating the area, and as I approached the window, I could see down to the road, the storm surge colliding with the levees, water spraying over the edge and coating the street. I thought of my car, up in the parking garage, and was glad our employee section was several floors up.

  I heard a snap and turned, the glow of a flame moving through the dark and lighting two candles on a table by the window. I slid my hands into the robe pocket and moved closer to the flame. “Did I see a fireplace?”

  “I’ll light it if it cools down a bit. I didn’t want to cook us in here.” He smiled at me, the candlelight flickering off his face.

  “Good point.”

  Thunder clapped, and I glanced toward the sound. “Think we’re safe?”

  “This building is the strongest thing in the county. There’s no safer place than right here.” He picked up a walkie-talkie, issuing a string of commands and waiting as one by one, managers and security reported in.

  Power was out in the entire building. Emergency generators had the electronic lock systems operational, along with all security systems, cameras, and common area lights. So far, no problems to report.

  He grabbed onto the end of a couch and drug it over to the window, setting in at an angle where we could view the levees and the waterfront row of shops and restaurants that lined the water. He sat down on the end of the couch and I settled next to him, curling up against his side. “You hungry?”

  “Not really. I had a snack in the bar.” I thought of the shrimp cocktail appe
tizer and how nervous I had been while eating it. It seemed silly now—my nerves and my fear of him. Especially since he had seemed to harbor a secret attraction to me, for all this time.

  I tilted my head back, looking up into his face. “So… you mentioned earlier that you told Dario to stay away from me.”

  “That’s right.” He shifted, swinging his legs up on the couch and repositioning me so that I was lying on top of him. “I told him that you were mine.”

  The authoritative tone in his voice was one that sent a tickle of happiness up my spine. “Do you often warn Dario off of women?”

  “I never have before.” He tugged at the tie on my robe, loosening the knot. “And you’re the only women I would have done it over.”

  “But…” I thought of all the years I’d worked in the tower, all of the intimidating looks he’d sent my way, all of the times he’d chewed me out or ignored me completely. “You’ve always been so…”

  “Much of a jerk?” he suggested, sliding his hand into the open neck of my robe, his palm warm.

  I curved into his touch. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “I was always afraid you would reject me. I was focused on upper management. I thought…once I got there, that you’d see me in a different light.”

  I looked up at him. His dark hair was messy, a result of my fingers. The candlelight danced across his features, and I admired the strong cut of his nose, the dark gleam of his eyes. He was an asshole, but he suddenly felt like my asshole—and I had the feeling, if I was his, that he’d fight off the world to protect me. I swallowed. “I like the light I see you in right now.”

  “Good.” He scowled, but it seemed like more of a smile. “These candles are cheap. I’ll make sure to swap out those lamps in accounting and replace it with these.”