“Talent has nothing to do with it,” Drew said toward me. “It’s luck.” He turned back toward the dealer, declaring that he was ready to take a break. The dealer bowed his head toward him, and Drew marched from the table, taking me on his arm. I looked back at the other sad sacks who remained on, looking at their chips in confusion. How had they lost so much? How would they tell their wives, their husbands about what had happened there that evening? I imagined the world beyond the glamor, beyond the high heels, beyond the make-up; the world that had existed, for example, in my own home. It hadn’t been beautiful. It had been lonely, desolate. We had had to make tough decisions, like trading in televisions for food money or giving up on ideas of vacations just to keep the house.
But I had to right my brain about it. I was pretty smart about money; I was doing the best I could. I didn’t normally gamble. Sure, I had lost my dance studio. But it had been through no real fault of my own. I wasn’t going out and spending, spending, and gambling. I was simply treading water in a wayward sea.
Drew, in this moment, was my rock. My pillar. I turned toward him as I walked away from the blackjack table.
“How are you seriously so good at that?” I hissed at him. I gripped his arm tight as I kept winding my head around, looking at everyone else in the casino. Everyone else appeared to be losing. Drew had mastered this game, this path.
But Drew looked at me with a harsh smile. “You’re going to want to keep your voice down,” he murmured. “You want to know how I win so much?”
I nodded, my eyes large. “Please. Tell me.”
Drew whispered in my ear. I could feel his breath hot on my neck. “I count cards.”
My face grew bright with admiration. Drew was not only cheating at this gambling situation; he was also a blissful genius. He wasn’t really gambling at all—not like my father who blindly gave away our things, our life. Rather, he had his money and he made it bigger.
“How do you do it?” I whispered back. I sipped on my martini, loving the way the liquid rolled over my tongue.
“I’ll teach you, if you like,” he murmured back.
He rushed through the basics in the corner by the bar. Girls continued delivering us drinks, as if on cue. “I just have them keep them coming when I’m here,” Drew explained as he sipped from his whiskey. I was already quite drunk; he was looking blurrier and more handsome every time I sipped from my drink. Casinos were marvelous; high living was marvelous.
“Okay. So you know, you need to beat the dealer. Yeah?” he began. I nodded. “Okay. When you count cards, you have to remember; cards between 2 and 6 have a value of a plus one. Cards between seven and nine have a value of zero. Cards between ten and ace have a value of negative one.”
“Negative one,” I repeated, trying to keep it all straight in my head. I had never been great at math, and my palms had begun to sweat. Could I really do this? I couldn’t even keep funds to my name. “Wait—Can I put up your tokens? I don’t have—I mean. I don’t want to bet any of my own money.” My face burned as I asked this.
But Drew wasn’t embarrassed. He simply waved his hand in front of his face, tossing it away. “Of course. Of course.” He cleared his throat and took another sip of whiskey. “So. As you play, you add up the numbers. You have to bet when the card count is higher than plus three. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“They’re playing with two decks over there, though. So. You have to divide the number you have by two to get your true number count. Does that make sense?”
I nodded once more. “Two decks. Divide by two. Got it.”
“Do you think you want to try this?”
I spoke through the alcohol. “I’m willing to try anything once,” I said saucily. His eyes met with mine, and suddenly we knew—we knew we wanted to fuck. We were on the same page. I walked back toward the blackjack table, feeling my ass move this way, then that as I walked. I knew he was watching. I sat at the same seat that had been Drew’s and gave the dealer a single nod in greeting. I flashed him a bit of cleavage. I wasn’t sure who I was, who I had become. But I loved the daring of it all. I nodded to the other people at the blackjack table—the people who were trying to earn back what they’d lost. The woman on the end from Missouri. The man in the middle without hair. The Asian man who punched the table every time he lost—which was every time. Frustration churned on.
The dealer greeted me with familiarity. “Madame.” I nodded toward him. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t believe I was in the middle of Iowa, that I was in the midst of cornfields, of simple folk. All around me were beautiful millionaires and piles of money.
“Hit me,” I said. I counted the cards. First a four. Then a ten. I thought in my head; Plus one. Minus one. I continued counting until—about ten minutes later—I found myself hit with a plus six. My eyes wide, I found myself winning that round. And then the next. And then the next.
Drew stood by me stoically as I used his chips. “That’s my girl,” were his only words as I sat there, focused and counting, counting, counting.
It was like I was addicted suddenly. I couldn’t get enough. The drinks kept coming; my blood pressure kept rising. After an hour, I had won over ten thousand dollars. My head was spinning. I could buy the goddamned studio! The dance studio could be mine; I wouldn’t be in danger of losing my apartment. My eyes were large as the dealer kept dealing, and the chips were sent my way.
After another twenty minutes things started to die down. The count died on the table, and I turned toward Drew, ready to give it a rest. “I don’t know how my father got addicted, really,” I murmured, looking down at the plethora of coins, feeling like I was waking up from a dream. My blood pressure started to release. I could breathe again. “It really does get old after a while.”
“I can only come here every few months, get it out of my system. You earned quite a lot of coins, there, natural.” He winked at me. “Let’s go cash in your winnings.”
But I started shaking my head vehemently. We couldn’t cash in my winnings; these weren’t my winnings. “I would have never been able to put the money up,” I murmured. “These are yours. They came from your money. I can’t take them—“
“Come on, Mol. You earned this money. This should go to you.” He smiled at me good-naturedly, but he sensed a darkness in me—a prideful nature. He hung his head for a moment before walking toward the exchange and collecting the winnings. He stuffed them in a yellow envelope and pushed them into a secret, inner-jacket pocket. He looked at me, nodding, noting that my eyes were dripping with fatigue. The flashing lights, the slot machines were knocking into my brain. I was happy to see him taking the money I’d earned, but I still felt a gnawing ache about it. After all; that was more money than I’d ever seen before.
“Shall we go?”
I jumped toward him, kissing him on the cheek. I felt the immense excitement of the evening’s festivities; I felt the high-esteem of winning and winning and winning, chip after chip. “What an adventure,” I murmured into his ear, allowing my lips to trace his neck.
We raced back to the Porsche. Drew tossed the valet two hundred dollars to drive us back to the hotel; we were far too drunk, too committed to laughing in the back seat, rolling around and holding our stomachs.
“You, Molly—big-eyed and saying you just don’t know if you CAN count cards,” Drew laughed, holding onto his stomach. “I can’t believe you conned me. You conned me!”
I slapped him on the knee, giggling myself. “What can I say? I’m just a natural.” The valet driver up front drove us fast through the night toward the hotel, and I leaned my head toward Drew’s, allowing my forehead to connect with his. “It was a beautiful night.”
And it was. I couldn’t get over how much fun it had been. As he helped me from the Porsche and gave the valet more money to get home from the hotel, I longed to hold onto him, to hug him close to my body. I felt my breasts bounce as we rushed into the hotel, our hands linked.
&
nbsp; As we clattered into the glass elevator, I sensed everyone looking at us once more; the rich people, the blonde bimbo and her grand millionaire. But I didn’t care. I caught him close to me and brought him in an intimate hug. His eyes caught on mine, and he whispered into my ear. “Say. Would you want to—would you want to go to the Jacuzzi? It’s personal; off to the side of the hotel room.”
My eyes were wide as he spoke.
“It’s just. I’m not ready to let the night end yet. You know?”
I nodded at this, feeling the excitement drape around me like a cloth. The elevator shot into the sky and I leaned heavy against him, ready to throw myself into the evening, whatever the costs. The feeling of all that money in my hand—all those coins—had given me a sense of power, a sense that everything in the world was possible. This, beyond anything else, churned me to cling to this beautiful man, to hold onto every moment.
CHAPTER NINE
We rushed into the hotel room and off to the side, where—sure enough—there sat a bubbling Jacuzzi. The Jacuzzi room featured grand windows that stretched above the Jacuzzi and on all sides, making you feel like you were situated in a sort of shell. I felt the alcohol in my blood as I gazed at the Jacuzzi, as I turned toward Drew beside me, who was watching me as well. He reached up to his shirt and began unbuttoning, all the way down to his waist.
I smiled at him, feeling oddly nervous. I knew we had been together before, that he had seen me naked. But this time felt different; it felt purposeful. I pulled my gown from my head, revealing my low-cut bra that barely held my breasts in it, and my thong. The bra and underwear were red. I didn’t know why I packed such sexy underwear; I had simply longed to have the option—just in case I turned my body over to this handsome, god-like man.
I sauntered lightly into the Jacuzzi, feeling the hot water roll up around me, over my arms, along my slim waist. I smiled at him as I sat in it up to my chin. “Aren’t you going to join me?” I asked him saucily, feeling the drunkenness waft through me.
Drew held up one finger, standing in just his boxers. He walked toward the kitchen and came back with a bottle of Jack Daniels. I raised my eyebrow at him, deep in a blurred level of drunkenness. He took a small sip from the bottle and handed it to me as he got into the Jacuzzi, making slight waves in the water. “Take a sip,” he whispered.
I did. He smiled as I pulled it away from my lips, gazing at his body as he stood above me in the water. He held the glass bottle. “You were great in there, today.”
“Yeah?”
“You were remarkable. Most girls get sort of nervous when they’re counting cards. They think it’s illegal or something.”
“It’s rather simple,” I said. “But satisfying.” I raised my eyebrows high in the air, looking at him with a sense of sexual playfulness. Was this going to happen?
“I’m sorry I brought you there, though. I didn’t realize that your father had died, leaving, I’m guess, you and your mother without a dime. What a dick.”
I hung my head. I didn’t want to get into it. “It’s all right. It happened a long time ago.” I blinked my eyes at him. “And what about you? You said your father died when you were young?”
He nodded and took another sip. “Drunk driving. Crashed into a tree. Which is why I don’t drink and drive at all. You’ll notice I hired the valet to bring us back here.”
“Your safety is really rare.” I rose up, bringing my body closer to his. I could feel a vibrancy about him. My body was pulsing with longing, one that I couldn’t retreat from. “I’m glad you take care of yourself. And me.” I was inches away from his mouth. I longed for him to kiss me, to wrap me in his arms. I longed for him to hold me, to fuck me the way he used to—before I knew about the dance studio, before I knew he had destroyed my life.
I touched his waist and watched as he pulled down his boxers, revealing his pulsing dick in the water. He tossed the boxers from the Jacuzzi, allowing them to flop on the ground outside of the water. He grabbed at my bra and brought the straps down over my arms, revealing my breasts as they popped from their hiding place. My nipples were hot, pointed. My breasts were tingling. He unlatched the bra in back and tossed it to the ground. We smiled at each other, nervous.
He yanked at my underwear. I reached down and touched my hot and revving pussy. He watched me as I did it, and he leaned toward me, kissing my mouth and placing his lips around my nipple. His tongue coursed around the nipple, making me feel so hot, so good. He brought his fingers to my pussy and began rubbing me, making me horny out of my mind. I looked up at his eyes, my own wide and nearly panicked with passion. I wanted him so bad.
I pushed him against the Jacuzzi wall and pushed his dick into my dripping pussy. I started fucking him, allowing my breasts to bounce above his head, around his shoulders. His eyes rolled back into his head and he grabbed me around the waist, easing me over his dick, forcing me to fuck him slowly, passionately.
He was about to cum. I could sense it about him. Suddenly, right before he did, I eased off him, tempting him with my wet, dripping body. I waved my finger in front of his face, shaking my head. “Not yet, baby,” I whispered.
I rose from the Jacuzzi tub and stood before him, naked, with the Iowa stars above my head. I leaned myself against the glass windows, spreading my limbs wide, allowing him to see everything—the way my breasts bounced against my body, the way the water dribbled into my pussy. “Come and get me,” I whispered to him.
He leaped from the Jacuzzi and turned me around toward the window. He pushed his dick inside of me, and started fucking me from behind. I could see the corn fields before me; I could see the sun. I felt his hot breath against my neck. He pulled his fingers around to touch me hard, rubbing me as he pushed himself inside of me, over and over again. I felt myself nearly about to cum. I started to call out, to bang against the windows. I thought surely it would break; I thought everything would come crashing around us. I started huffing loudly, calling out. “YES. YES.”
But he didn’t let me. He eased himself from me and spun me around, looking at me with those dark, penetrating eyes. “Get on the bed,” he ordered. “Get on the bed.”
I rushed back toward the bedroom and jumped onto the bed, feeling my breasts bounce around me, feeling my wet hair trace lines on my naked, muscled back. He walked toward me slowly from the Jacuzzi room, still holding the whiskey bottle. His dick was thick, hard, pointed directly in front of him. I remembered the pressure, the passion the dick had created in my body, and I longed for it again. I started calling for him. “Please, baby. Come to me.”
But instead he sat at the table. He poured himself a glass of whiskey. He came toward me, holding the whiskey in his hand, and he began pouring it in my mouth. A bit of it dribbled out the sides, down my chin, and he licked at my face, at my breasts as they coursed with the whiskey. I fell back against the pillows, laughing as he did this so seriously, so sensually. He set the whiskey glass on the night table next to me and eased his great dick into my pussy. I sighed, feeling at one with him again. He looked me in the eyes, and I felt such passion in my stomach. He started fucking me military style—so he could see me, so we could know each other. I felt a sense of calm form over me as we touched each other; as I touched his face, his hands. He brought my legs up around his neck and brought himself so far into me; he licked at my ankles, at my legs. I loved feeling his tongue on my body, anywhere on my body. Everywhere on my body.
We both came together in a sea of quiet—in a sea of romance. We looked each other in the eyes, and I felt myself falling into the chaos, the distortion of an orgasm. I grabbed his back and placed my nails into it, feeling his dick inside me, bringing such passion into me. I called out only once as we held each other close, deep into the night, our bodies falling in fits of pleasure.
And then, all at once, it was over; it was done. I fell back onto the pillows, and he tucked his arms around me, holding me close to his warm body. I kissed his cheek, and he kissed my shoulder tenderly. I longed to as
k him, as our eyes met there on the pillowcase, what he was thinking about, what he wanted with a silly girl like me. But there were no real words between us; there couldn’t be anything else. We had crammed all the fun, all the sex, all the adventure into a single day. For that, I was truly happy—even if tomorrow I was somebody else to him, somebody who didn’t deserve him.
CHAPTER TEN
I woke up the next morning in his arms. Unlike previous times, I didn’t yearn to leave his arms; I didn’t yearn to leave his apartment, to rush back to mine. Instead, I tucked myself closer to him, feeling the way his breath felt against my cheek. Hot. Almost child-like. Innocent. I longed for this moment of sleeping in to go on forever. I wanted him to be mine.
I couldn’t believe I had slept with him again. All those errors he had made; all those mistakes. He had destroyed my life, my very being, for a dumb bookstore. He was a millionaire, and he was literally stepping on the weak—me—in order to get ahead. And yet, something about him was different than the typical evil millionaire persona. Something about him seemed good. I leaned toward him and kissed his nose quietly, not wanting to wake him.
I eased myself from the bed, thinking that we should have a pleasant morning together. I felt my head throbbing a bit from the whiskey and all those martinis. I called the front desk and ordered a breakfast, mimosas, and—of course—aspirin. I sat at the edge of the bed, watching him sleep, as I pictured the kitchen staff rushing around, attempting to put together eggs, bacon, sausages, pastries, whatever the millionaire on the top floor wanted. I tried to soak up this feeling, because I knew this was the only time I would ever feel so certain, so happy about something. I was positive all of this would blow up in my face again, even if everything had been flowing so easily.
The elevator doors opened, even as Drew slept on. I placed my finger to my lips as I walked toward the men carrying plates, forks, and pastries. I smiled, helping them to arrange some of it on a breakfast in bed tray. I watched them scurry back in the elevator before pouring Drew a cup of coffee and placed it on the tray along with some eggs, sausage, and fruit. I held it in my hand as I walked toward the bed, watching as the sun traced a line over Drew’s beautiful complexion.
Hooked #3 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 3) Page 5
