Fantasy Friday (The Billionaires Temptations Book 5)

by Annalise Wells

  “Turn around,” I say.

  Bell turns her back and looks over her shoulder. I massage her perfectly formed ass. The water cascades over our naked bodies as I push my breasts against her to soap her shoulders.

  “I think we better stop,” Bell says.

  “Why?” I ask, enjoying it.

  “Because the water will be freezing in a minute.”

  “Who says water conservation has to be boring?”

  Alex

  “Penetration is the ultimate sin; oral sex deserves a slap on the wrist.”

  I open one eye. I see Brent sitting at the table munching on some toast. I throw back the blanket and make my way to the table.

  “I wondered when you were going to surface,” he says.

  “It was late when I got back, you were fast asleep,” I reply. “Then I couldn’t sleep, I was thinking about the game.”

  He crunches on his toast. Crumbs fall onto his plate. “How was the game?” he asks.

  “This isn’t one game, it’s four games, and you can’t quit unless you lose your chips,” I explain.

  “Jesus, how big is the pot going to be at the end?” Brent asks, wide-eyed.

  “Not just that, anyone who loses is replaced until the final table, so there is new cash coming in.”

  “Mikey has thought about this, if he wants you to clean them out, he is making sure they are cleaned out,” Brent says.

  I take a piece of his toast from his plate. I bite into it. “At least I am up by about a hundred and fifty,” I say.

  Brent huffs. “You just have to keep it going.”

  “I have a plan,” I say.

  “Not another one of your plans.”

  “Hear me out. It’s a different dealer on every night… if we can somehow get you onto the final night, what do you reckon?”

  “And do what exactly?”

  “It’s simple, I have to lose the last hand.”

  “You are asking something even God couldn’t help to achieve,” Brent says.

  “We have two nights to think about it,” I say, now smiling.

  Brent rubs his face. “Alex, you know I can’t say no. I will ask about the dealer, but how you can lose the last hand, and walk away from this, I don’t know.”

  “That will be my problem. I have to think about that one for a while,” I reply.

  “So, what are you doing all day, just staying here or what?” Brent asks.

  “Mikey is having me tailed, I can only go here or his ‘office,' and he did say he wanted me to go there just after lunch for something.”

  “I suppose you will need some cash?” Brent asks.

  “Just cab fare, I will pay you back today, I will get him to add a bit to my bill,” I reply.

  Brent slips me another twenty. “I have to go to work, stay out of trouble,” he says, pointing a finger at me.

  I take his last piece of toast. “Don’t forget the dealer,” I say to a door that has just closed.

  How the hell can I lose the last hand? Fuck, and who would I lose it to?

  That was a question that would take some serious thought. Who do I know that has half a million? Which I guess would be enough for the final night? Beau...

  Until it is time to go to the office, I lay on the couch thinking of the impossible. How can you magic up a card player who is good enough to get to the last hand of the night, and win, or be lucky enough? The end result would be the same.

  I stop thinking about it, otherwise it will drive me insane, it is like trying to find the start of a circle… there isn’t one.

  I grab a cab and reach the warehouse. Gone are most of the cars apart from a couple of limos… does Mikey want me to slip in an extra couple of games before tonight?

  I walk inside. I can see a couple of people at the table, and a couple of women sitting at the bar. Mikey nods at me to go into his office.

  “What have you dragged me over here for?” I ask.

  “I haven’t dragged you anywhere, a Russian’s wife made the request last night,” Mikey replies, now smiling widely.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

  Mikey makes an okay sign with his hand and pokes his other index finger through it.

  “You’re kidding me. You want me to play cards for you with no benefit to me, and now you expect me to fuck a Russian mobster’s wife?” I scream.

  “Keep your fucking voice down will you, if they know you are playing for me, the whole thing will turn into a shit storm,” Mikey says.

  “Don’t take offense Mikey, but you are spending too much time with Ronny,” I say.

  “Why is that?” he asks.

  “Because you are turning into a motherfucking cunt.”

  “What can I say, I am sorry. She wants you, and I have offered you to her.”

  “Oh, you have to add six hours onto my time,” I say. “And this will cost you another ten hours.”

  “Six hours.”

  “Eight hours,” I say.

  “Deal,” Mikey says, offering me his hand.

  I shake his hand. “I am gonna hold you to that, fourteen hours,” I say, pointing at him.

  “I suppose I better introduce you,” Mikey says, widely grinning.

  “Where is the Russian dud then?” I ask.

  “His wife says he is off fucking one of the hookers.”

  Mikey leads me over to the bar. A tall, leggy blonde slips from her stool.

  “This must be Alex?” she asks.

  “It is, and Alex, this is Ingrid,” Mikey says.

  Of course it is.

  “So, Alex, where shall we go?” Ingrid asks.

  “That’s up to you,” I say, feeling very weird.

  “We go to car, then decide,” she says.

  The rear door to the limo opens as we step outside. The driver opens the door, and I help Ingrid step into the car. I slide over beside her as the driver gets into the front seat.

  “My English not good,” Ingrid says.

  “It’s fine, it is better than my Russian,” I reply.

  “How about, we just drive,” Ingrid says.

  I feel confused, but it is up to her. “Okay, we just drive.”

  Ingrid leans to the driver. “Just drive anywhere, keep it steady and cool,” she says.

  Ingrid leans back and pushes her finger on a button. A blackened pain of glass rises from the back of the front seat.

  “A little privacy.”

  “It looks like a lot of privacy,” I reply, feeling awkward.

  “I tell you straight. I not fuck you.”

  “Okay, what do you want me for?” I ask.

  “I want suck your cock, and you lick my pussy, that all,” she replies.

  “Why all this trouble just for that?”

  “Husband cheating fucker. I not a cheating asshole. I just want orgasm and a bit of fun,” Ingrid explains.

  I can see her logic, and I have heard it before, if there is no fucking, are you actually cheating?

  The car moves, and we are finally on the way to wherever. In Ingrid’s mind, it will be heaven, and in mine it will be another eight hours added to my time. I was not sure if it was Ingrid’s way of speaking English, but she sounded demanding, and I found it a bit of a turn on.

  She turns her back to me and points over her shoulder. “Zipper please.”

  I oblige and slowly pull down the zipper on Ingrid’s silver-sequined dress. She pulls it from her shoulders, her black bra and panties are a total contrast to her fair skin.

  Ingrid pulls at the hair pin. Her long blonde hair falls over her body. She smiles at me and reaches between her breasts. The front clasp pops open. Ingrid pushes her breasts forward and cups them as she pinches her pink nipples.

  “You like?” she asks.

  “Well yeah, of course,” I reply, feeling my dick harden.

  She leans back into the large leather seat, she licks her lips as she lifts her ass and pulls her panties down her long legs. I sigh as Ingrid puts her feet on the
seat and pushes her knees apart.

  “You ever tasted Russian pussy?” she asks.

  I shake my head.

  “You like Russian pussy, trust me.”

  “I trust you,” I reply, as I stare at Ingrid spreading her pussy lips. I feel guilty but I couldn’t say no to Mikey. He would’ve definitely got Ronny onto me.

  “Now strip, I want to see big cock from the U, S of A,” she says.

  I chuckle to myself. How the clichés travel around the world.

  I sit myself on one of the smaller seats opposite, I lift my arms and pull off my shirt. Ingrid coos and rubs her pussy in anticipation.

  I pull at my belt and pop open the button of my jeans. I slide them down and drop them to the floor of the limo. Ingrid pouts and rubs her finger over her nipples, she bites her lip as I slip my shorts over my firm buttocks.

  Ingrid laughs. “You look like movie hero,” she says.

  “Which one?” I ask.

  “Tarzan,” she says, obviously smiling at my body.

  “I might look similar, but I am not sure Tarzan would be in the back of a limo with a very hot Russian woman, and just about to eat out her pussy.

  “You taste pussy first, and when you hard, I suck cock ‘till you cum.”

  “Fuck. This is one of the easiest ways to pay a debt.”

  “Penetration is the ultimate sin; oral sex deserves a slap on the wrist.”

  Brooke

  “Go down there, turn left and left again. Make a right. If you get lost don’t come back to me.”

  As Bell and I are leaving her apartment, I feel my cell phone buzz in my pocket. I look at the screen and I have a message from Shona.

  “Who is that?” Bell asks, as she bangs on her car door.

  “Shona, she says they are leaving later, so they will be back tomorrow afternoon. I just hope that’s enough time for Beau to get to the bank,” I reply.

  “It will be close, and if Alex has explained his situation, they will have only given him forty-eight hours maximum.”

  “That’s my worry,” I say, rubbing my cross.

  “You will wear that thing out if you’re not careful,” Bell says laughing.

  “I have to do something, I would get on my knees and pray, but I think it doesn’t work anymore, for me.”

  “Don’t worry, we will do all we can to get him back safe and sound,” Bell says.

  “Where are we going first?” I ask.

  “We are going to some places I know that have backstreet gambling, most of it is on the horses, but you never know,” Bell says.

  “This is so far removed from my old life,” I reply, thinking how crazy it all is.

  Bell looks over at me from the driving seat. “You make it sound like you were in a convent or something.”

  I shrug my shoulders and huff a little.

  We finally reach a part of town that doesn’t have any of the glitz and glamor of the Vegas strip. And this, it seems, is the real Las Vegas, the part that is underneath all the lights and the façade that is displayed to the millions of visitors every year.

  This is the gritty side, the side where the has beens, and the losers frequent while still trying to hang onto their dreams.

  “You better let me do the talking,” Bell says.

  “Take it away, and you better have my phone with his picture,” I say.

  Bell puts the phone into her jacket pocket. I follow close behind her as we walk into a back-end gambling shop.

  I look around. Guys are fixated with the TV, and horse racing from every track is shown on a different screen. They scour newspapers and make notes. Most hoping to spot something that the one’s making the odds haven’t noticed.

  I walk along the floor, or should I say carpet, it is littered with torn up betting slips. It is evident that the odd makers haven't missed much today. Bell walks up to a guy who is sitting behind a wire grill. She pulls out the phone and shows him Alex’s picture.

  “You ever see this guy Mr.?” she asks.

  “Lady, have a fucking look around you, does he look like the type of guy to come in here,” the old guy says, as the ash falls from his cigarette to his pants.

  “Okay, keep going.”

  He looks down and wipes his leg. “He looks more like a card player than someone who bets on the ponies.”

  “You have got that right,” Bell says.

  “Ask old Tommy over there, the one by the window. If it is card games you want, he will know where it’s happening.”

  Bell walks up to the old guy by the window. “Excuse me, are you Tommy?” she asks.

  “Yeah, who’s fucking asking?” he replies.

  “I was told by your friend in the cage you kn…” Bell starts to say.

  “He isn’t a friend of mine, he is a two-bit crook.” The old guy gives a look of distaste.

  “Well, the guy says you have your ear to the ground on card games,” she says.

  “You looking for a game?” he asks.

  “No, I am trying to find a friend,” Bell says, as she shows Tommy the picture.

  “Hmm. He looks familiar,” he says.

  “Where from?” she asks.

  “I don’t know, he just looks familiar,” he replies.

  “Do you know where there are any games going on, big games?” Bell asks.

  “There are lots of big games going on, all around you, you just never see them,” he replies.

  This dick is winding Bell up. I pull back on Bell’s shoulder. “Let me talk to him,” I say.

  “Have a crack, I think he is a bit senile,” she says.

  I lean forward and hold out the phone. I have a fifty wedged between my fingers.

  “Have you seen this guy?” I ask.

  “Let me look closer,” he says as he pulls the fifty and shoves it in his pocket.

  “I haven’t seen him for a while, a few weeks maybe,” Tommy says. “I had heard he was in a bit of shit.”

  “That is why we are looking for him.”

  “I am hungry,” Tommy says.

  I pull another note from my pocket and slip it into his hand. “Two guys, they are big-time loan sharks and mean as fuck, if he owes them, he may never walk again,” Tommy says.

  “Can you just tell me where to look?” I ask.

  “He used to run a club called, oh, what was it?” he says. “The Real Deal, down on Fifteenth and Broadway. Just don’t go after dark.”

  “Tommy, you are a gentleman,” I say.

  “Just be careful who you speak to,” Tommy calls as we walk toward the door.

  “Fifteenth and Broadway. Do you know where it is?” I ask.

  “We can find out, just keep your eyes open for a cop,” Bell says.

  “I’m not sure there will be any cops around here,” I reply.

  “Brooke, cops can be addicted to gambling as well, or sometimes they come for a payoff.”

  “Oh, so it is like the movies?” I ask, shocked.

  “A bit freakin’ worse than that.”

  Bell heads back toward the main strip. We park the car. A squad car is parked on the corner next to a diner. A cop comes walking down the steps with a brown paper bag.

  “Excuse me, Officer. Do you know where Fifteenth and Broadway is?” Bell asks.

  “You know how much this lunch cost me?” he replies.

  “Pass him this twenty,” I say.

  Bell hangs her hand from the window with the twenty in her hand.

  “You trying to bribe me?” the cop asks.

  “Nah, we are just buying you lunch as a thank you.”

  “A thank you for what?” he asks.

  “For politely telling us where Fifteenth and Broadway is.”

  The cop walks up to the car and puts his head in the window. I can smell the cheap whiskey from my side of the car as the cop looks down at Bell’s legs.

  “You have to drive about ten blocks and make a left. You will see a stop sign. Hook a left, and you are there.”

  “Thanks so much, Offic
er,” Bell says as she drops the twenty onto the ground.

  “You fuckin’ dumb broads.” He bends for the twenty.

  Bell turns to me and hands me half of the note. “What have you done?” I ask.

  “That will teach the cocksucker for being such a pig,” she replies.

  “Bell, you are terrible really,” I say.

  “Yeah, but it will grow on you,” she replies.

  Bell heads down the street. I sit counting the blocks. I look at the sky as the sun starts setting. “You think we will be safe?” I ask.

  “Check the glove compartment,” she says.

  “Don’t tell me you have a gun.”

  “Of course not.”

  I open the glove box. I pull out a butterfly knife and a can of pepper spray. “That’s it, that is your protection?” I roll my eyes and feel like I need to pray more.

  “Spray yourself in the face, then see what happens,” Bell says laughing.

  “And the knife?” I ask.

  “I am a bit of a wizard with a knife. Bike gangs love playing with knives, and I picked up a few habits.” I put the spray and knife on my lap. “Have you ever picked up any dirty habits?” Bell asks.

  I missed what Bell was saying. “Excuse me?”

  “Habits, you know those things. Dirty habits, have you ever picked any up?” she asks again.

  “I have picked up one or two, but not for a while,” I reply.

  “How many blocks now?” Bell asks.

  “Nine, so the next one.”

  Bell makes the next turn left. “I can see the traffic signal up ahead,” she says.

  Bell approaches the light and makes a left turn. We drive down the street looking for a sign that says, “The Real Deal.”

  “Well, I can’t see anything,” I say.

  “That makes two of us, maybe it’s by name only.”

  Bell parks the car. We step onto the sidewalk. I shove the pepper spray into my jacket pocket, and Bell slips the knife up the sleeve of her leather jacket. We walk down the street looking at all the entrances of the buildings. We reach the end.

  “There is nothing this side,” I say.

  Bell crosses the street. “Maybe it is on the other side?”

  I see a guy walking toward us. He looks kind of nervous and is looking around him. He makes a sharp right and vanishes into one of the doorways.