The Gamble: A Novel

by Xavier Neal

  “Luca,” she sings, hand clenching her sheets.

  I push my hips forward, nudging my dick deeper. After receiving another cry of elation, I grind harder, the muscles tensing around my shaft like a premature round of applause for a job well done. Her head buries itself further into the pillow. The moan being muffled displeases me.

  I wind her hair around my hand, which frees the sound, and my name in unison, “Luca...”

  “Eres tan hermosa,” I purr while my hips continue to piston. “You know that?”

  Her pussy tightens around my cock as the answer. My face falls beside hers as I continue to feed the greed growing in both of us. Giving her hair another tug elicits a sharp cry, and she begs for more. The sight of Alexxa withering and whimpering so desperately for release makes it even more difficult not to bust a nut than it already is.

  Raw dog is strictly all-star level shit. I'd mastered the skills of sex up until this point, but the challenge of fucking without a rubber is strictly for professionals. I'll rise to the occasion. Don't you fucking worry.

  With another precise hammer of my hips, I can feel her pending orgasm pleading to be set free. “You want me to make you come?”

  “Always,” she whispers.

  I nip at her ear lobe. “Then say it.”

  Alexxa mewls, muscles starting to pulsate.

  “Demand it.”

  “Fuck...Make me come, Luca.”

  I rock into her relentlessly even once she breaks. As her pussy praises my services, my dick only takes it as further encouragement to continue until she does it again. Until I feel I've written my name into the hall of fame for best fucking orgasm she's ever had. Until I've fucking ruined her for other players because there won't be other players. Just me.

  On another quiver, Alexxa comes on my cock a second time, begging for it to follow her lead. Heedlessly, like some automated response to her body needing mine, I whisper in her ear, “Te amo y solo contigo.” I'm not sure if the sharp gasp that escapes is from the words or the overwhelming feeling of our bodies fusing together in an orgasmic clash. The roars rumbling through the room oscillate between us. Her pussy continues to throbs so intensely I'm convinced she's coming again.

  Fuck...maybe she never stopped.

  On another huff, she commands. “Coffee.”

  My head stretches around until I can nudge her nose with mine. When her face lifts up, I softly part her lips and express what I seem incapable of any other way.

  At least in English. Apparently I have no fucking problem saying I love her in goddamn Spanish.

  Alexxa pulls back and rolls over onto her back. Playfully she continues to demand, “Coffee.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” I hesitate to get up, wanting to take one more second to soak in this moment.

  There will never be one more perfect than this.

  Attempting to shake off the weight of emotions I'm not used to, I prepare to move when she reaches out to stop me. “Wait.”

  “Yeah?”

  She pauses but only briefly. “Did you....did you say you...did you say you love me? Isn't that what Te Amo means?”

  I uncomfortably swallow.

  I blame Dora the Explorer for teaching everyone basic fucking phrases.

  “Did you say it because you meant it or because you felt you had to?”

  Extremely offended, I snap, “Why the fuck would I have to?”

  “Because you think I'm some sort of clingy virgin who needs to hear that shit so she doesn't feel used.”

  Did I fucking miss the exit ramp to avoid Crazy Town? I thought women were excited as fuck when you said shit like I love you. What the fuck is happening?

  “And you think I'm some random asshole who has to say that shit to keep great pussy?”

  Alexxa sits straight up. “I didn't say that!”

  “I didn't either!”

  “Then what are you saying?!”

  “That I said I love you because I fucking meant it!”

  Yeah not how I pictured myself ever fucking saying it. Okay. Fine. I never pictured myself actually saying it out loud, but if I had this wouldn't be how.

  “You meant it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really meant it.”

  “Yeah.”

  Alexxa smirks teasingly. “You love me...”

  Now annoyed, I roll my eyes. “Less now.”

  “Shut up.” She playfully attempts to punch me when I catch her hand.

  “Are you gonna say it back?”

  “Psh, no.”

  My jaw hits the ground.

  Suddenly she breaks into a fit of giggles and falls backwards. “I was fucking with you!”

  Fucking with me? I say something in a way I'll never say to another person in my life, and the response is for her to fuck with me? Yeah. This is the chick I love alright. And that's part of the fucking reason why.

  I blanket her body with mine. “No coffee for you.”

  She pouts. “But I need it. I've gotta be at work in like two hours.”

  “Then you better stop fucking with me and say it.”

  A very serious expression slips on her face and without words I know she's got the same emotions wreaking havoc on her brain that I do. “I love you, Luca.”

  I drop my mouth onto her collarbone and give it a long languorous lick. Afterwards I demand, “Say it again.”

  “You've got about an hour. Earn it.”

  The sexual defiance shoots straight to my dick.

  Orgasms are a much better for your body than coffee is. At least they are when they're coming from me.

  Alexxa

  Luca wins. He fucking wins. I am successfully too sore to concentrate on anything other than the sexy aches thumping through my system. Every time I move another image from my night with him fills my mind, reminding me exactly why I hurt the way I do. Not that I needed the extra hint. I was there! I was present for every single goddamn moment and am still shocked about the one from this morning. Can you believe it? He said he loved me. I thought I was going to have to say it first, you know on his death bed when he's 97, and needing to hear last words from loved ones, but I didn't. As excited as I am, is it wrong to be a little nervous too? It's not that I don't think he means it, it's just...well I know Luca. This sort of shit isn't him. Yeah, he's not the same asshole he used to be, but a girlfriend? Commitment? Love? All of it combined feels like a house of cards and every day is one fucking gust of wind away from it all collapsing. What? I'm not pessimistic. I'm just not the dreamy eyed moron most women turn into. I've always prided myself on how well I know him. That includes this moment too.

  Opening his apartment door, I'm surprised to see him stretched on the couch, watching baseball highlights.

  “Did you bring home some fucking beer?”

  I drop the groceries on the counter. “I did bring you some fucking beer. You're welcome asshole.”

  Luca's body shoots up and his smile grows out of surprise. “Shit, I thought you were Warren.”

  “Obviously.”

  As I begin to unload the sacks, he hops up off the couch. “What the hell are you doing here? Thought you had to work until like six.”

  “The pregnant woman I'm replacing stopped functioning around noon. Again. So I was kinda off the hook early.”

  Luca opens the fridge to help put away the items. “And you decided to go grocery shopping?”

  “I decided I would cook dinner for my boyfriend like a girlfriend can-”

  “Should.”

  “Can,” my emphasizing is accompanied with an elbow to his ribs. “Before spending the evening working on some shit for Monday.”

  He puts away the last of the snacks I brought and leans against the counter opposite of me. “How about you work in between calling out my name?”

  I fight the urge to moan at the thought.

  That's definitely the plan, but we're not going to tell him that.

  “We'll see.” I shrug and wink. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I though
t you'd be at the gym and Warren would be home for me to hang out with.”

  Luca folds his arms across his chest. “So you could tell him how you're tri-lingual now?”

  “Tri?”

  “Yeah. You speak, English, Spanish, and Luca.”

  “You're not a fucking language.”

  “The way you moan my name I might as well be.”

  Gag him. Please? Yeah. Yeah. Don't remind me I actually love him.

  “I was actually hoping he was home so I could do just the opposite. He needs to know all the tales coming out of your bedroom are pure bullshit.”

  Like I hoped, fire flashes in his eyes, and his body closes the gap. His hips push harshly against mine. “Bullshit?”

  With a noncompliant look I repeat, “Bullshit.”

  Luca licks his lips slowly and I helplessly whimper. He gives my nipple a hard tug. “Say it again.”

  “Bul...” is all that escapes before he repeats the tug eliciting his favorite sound. In one rough, fluid motion he yanks my heather gray shirt open. Buttons clink against several different objects in the tiny kitchen. “Luca!”

  Rather than answer to my objection, he runs his fingers lightly over the tops of my boobs. His touch lowers until he's toying with nipples again. This time when I softly sigh he commands, “Turn around.”

  I do as I'm told.

  “Hands on the counter.”

  Over dramatically I slap them on there. “What do you think you're doing?”

  His hard cock presses against the back of my skirt. In a low growl he says, “Fucking you in the kitchen.”

  I try to turn around to argue, but his hand slips underneath my skirt and grazes the outside of my soaking thong.

  What did you expect? Pretty sure it's to the point where he can just wink and I'm ready to fucking come. This is all just an 'I'm no longer a virgin' problem, right? It's gonna go away. Please tell me it's gonna go away. I can't go through the rest of my life like he's a vibrator with fresh new batteries in it all the time. That's no way to live. Or the perfect way to live...we'll come back to that.

  Luca's finger presses against my clit and I stutter, “Y-Y-You can't fuck me in the kitchen.”

  “I can.”

  “But what if-” His hand slips underneath the thin barrier forcing an instant gasp. He feathers my clit, not feeding me enough to be sustained yet enough to make my knees buckle. “W-w-what if Warren walks in?”

  In a cocky tone he replies, “Then I guess he'll see all the stories aren't bullshit.”

  Without room for complaining or denying of his decision, he's got my skirt yanked up, my panties ripped off, and my body slightly bent forward. His cock glides straight to the hilt. There isn't even enough time to breathe let alone moan before the vicious punishment of pumping begins. Ruthless, Luca thrusts sharply, bounces barbarically, and spanks savagely. Every movement, every unforgiving sexual agony delivered turns my pussy into a ticking time bomb. The first orgasm barely registers it's left the building by the time the second starts quaking through me. My vibrations and howls only fuel the merciless monster I created.

  “Lu...” I whimper, hands clutching the counter like it's my last hope in this sexual battle of my sanity. “Lu...Lu...”

  “Can't even say my whole fucking name,” he brutishly comments. Another pop on the ass forces my muscles to begin another round of pulsating, pleading for leniency and euphoria in a twisted tandem. “You're mine, baby. Solo contigo Alexxa...”

  The delicious declaration seems to excite my pussy even more as another wave of wetness begins to flood. Determined and desperate to milk at least one orgasm out of him the way he is me, I begin to toss my body back into the movements, the change in pace catching him off guard. His large frame covers mine completely from behind while one of his hands tightly winds through my hair.

  His teeth nip at the spot right below my neck. “Te Amo, Alexxa.”

  “Come for me, Luca,” I command.

  With one final deep grumble, he yanks my head back harshly and erupts so ferociously he sears much more than just my body.

  Every time he says those words in Spanish it's like it means ten times more than it ever could in English.

  The moment he lets go of my body, I crumble like a rag doll.

  What! You try getting banged like a drum and see how well you hold up after.

  “You broke my shirt.”

  Luca laughs as he slips himself out of me. I frown at the lost connection. “And you're underwear.”

  “Yeah, dick nuts. I don't keep extra clothes in my car like you.”

  “You could just keep some here.”

  Whoa....big red flag for another big step.

  “But you since you haven't yet, guess you'll just have to wear some of mine.”

  Somehow I drag myself back up and turn around to face him with a scowl. “You did that shit on purpose so Warren would have to see me in your clothes.”

  He grabs his shorts off the ground. “We'll call it evidence.”

  “You're an asshole.”

  Luca reaches out and tugs me into him. “You knew that shit goin' in, baby. Now, let's fuck in the shower, and then you can tell me all about your new job while you cook me dinner.”

  “That all sounds way too Susie Homemaker for my liking.”

  “You can blow me while you cook. Would that help?”

  I punch him square in the chest.

  “Ou! I was trying to be helpful!”

  Luca doesn't leave room to get hit again. His lips find mine and begin the devouring ritual we both know always yields positive results.

  Guess you could say he knows me pretty well too.

  After another round in the shower and in his bed, I'm in a pair of his basketball shorts and one of his old sweatshirts, preparing to cook in their kitchen.

  From the bar counter, Luca chuckles and tips his beer to his lips, “I like the way you handle my meat.”

  Shaking my head, I continue to brush the marinade on the steak. “You've been sitting on that one for a while, haven't you?”

  “About ten minutes.” He shrugs. “Have you had a chance to read any of the script yet?”

  “No. We spent most of the morning having me sign some forms and helping her remove her shit so I can move in mine.”

  “You have your own office?”

  “Not exactly. I have my own desk.”

  He casually says, “Just means we have to fuck on it after hours.”

  With a roll of the eyes, I sigh, “Is that all you think about?”

  “That and sports.” When I turn around he flashes me a smile and wink.

  I fake a gag.

  “You fucking love me.”

  Sarcastically I say, “Do I?”

  “Yup.” He chuckles and has another sip of his beer. “And I love you...or parts of you.”

  “I'm spitting on yours.”

  Luca starts laughing harder just as Warren strolls through the front door.

  He gives me a once over and suspicion spans across his face. “You're making dinner? Did you lose a bet or something?”

  Before I can answer, Luca says, “Nope. Apparently when you fuck your girlfriend rotten for two days she feels compelled to make you a thank you meal.”

  I smirk playfully at Warren. “I dropped his on the floor.”

  He chuckles a little and locks the front door.

  “I grabbed you one too. Hungry?”

  He glances at Luca.

  Is there some sort of new rule where your boyfriend's best friend can't eat your cooking once you start having sex? Are there new guidelines now? Where do I find these instructions?

  “Don't worry, I didn't poison yours,” I playfully poke.

  Warren attempts a smile. “You want some help? I can make a side.”

  Whipping my head around, I snip, “Why didn't you offer to make a side?”

  “You're the one who offered to make me dinner.”

  “So you couldn't counter offer?”

 
“Absolutely not.”