by Avery Aster
His answer, while arrogant and presumptuous, gave me the chills and I was then struck by another déjà vu. A really strong one, where I totally felt like I’d been here before and knew exactly what was going to happen next. It took me a moment or two to compose myself before I could reply to him.
“I’m completely confident I’ll win,” I’d said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” His smile told me he thought I did.
“One rule.” He’d said, looking me square in the face.
“What?”
“Complete honesty. No more pretend.”
“Fine.”
“We must be ourselves or who we were.”
“Of course. Wait. What does that mean, ‘who we were?’”
“It means that when I pick you up from the casino tonight, as if we are meeting for the first time, you will meet the old Christophe. The one I was before I understood what I could become.”
“What’s he like?”
“You shall see.”
“Wonderful, I can’t wait to meet him.”
Bravado. It was all bravado. And here I am, in the casino, waiting to meet the ‘old’ Christophe. Feeling like I’m about to faint.
Wonderful.
A tall man wearing a bowtie, a G-string and a smile greets me just inside the door. “My name is Col. Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Savage? Any experience or fantasy I can help you fulfill?”
Once again, the staff put me at ease, making me feel like an old friend. My mind races in a million different directions as my gaze drifts from his secretive smile, down his broad, muscular chest, to his narrow hips and bulging package. It’s obvious the guy is erect and only the thin spandex of his microscopic underwear is keeping him in check.
Perhaps when I was younger, playful and searching for meaningless—albeit fun and exciting—encounters, I would totally go for this guy. But that’s not why I’m here tonight. I’m here to prove to Christophe Chevalier that I am perfectly happy with my sex life. And, yes, to prove I’m no slouch in the sex department.
Basically, I’m here to win.
Pulling my shoulders back, I say, “Do you have any high stakes rooms? I’m supposed to…” I just about mention that I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, but the whole idea was that Christophe and I would pretend like we’ve never met before. God. Why did I agree to meet Christophe at the casino, of all places? That’s giving him the upper hand.
Col points to a corner of the room where a neon sign of two nudes, a guy and a girl, blink on and off in green and pink. “That room is high stakes.”
“What games are played there?”
“Strip poker.”
“No way.”
He nods in confirmation.
“How do I join?”
“Red light means the game is already in progress, yellow means it’s about to start and green means the area is free for a new game.”
“Perfect.” Though in my head I’m singing the ‘shit’ chant. Shit, shit, shit, shit…
It takes me half an hour to make my way over there. There is just so much going on from a drag queen show on the stage, to watching a pair of hot dudes being auctioned off with the promise of a threesome to the highest bidder. Damn. The place is crazy. Crazy fun. Crazy sexy. Crazy, crazy!
In amongst the guests and entertainment, however, is a presence of tall, burly men wearing the uniform of the island: black t-shirts, khaki shorts and headsets. They are the bouncers, the enforcers, the ones who keep the guests from getting too out of control. Man would I like to take a look at their training booklet.
While I’m watching Cher—I swear the performer looks exactly like her—singing a spot on version of If I Could Turn Back Time, I feel a presence behind me. I don’t have to look; I would recognize the scent of his cologne anywhere. Funny how the aroma of something so unique elicits an immediate tightening in my belly and a tickling across my shoulder blades.
“I’m going to fuck you later tonight.” The statement is a whisper in my ear that trickles down my neck to my spine.
I gasp and swivel just in time to see the backside of Christophe, the back of his dark suit jacket, his dark hair, asserting himself through the crowd.
Wow. Like that I’m quivering for him.
Bastard!
I finally end up at the door of the strip poker room and it’s divided by a layer of hanging beads followed by a screen of hanging feathers and finally a mist of scented water. I enter, slightly damp, with every nerve ending tuned in to whatever is going to happen inside. The room is larger than I expected, divided into quarters with a central, circular bar sporting a clear glass bar top. The bartender is nude and so is the wait staff, though their bodies are painted in interesting designs, like walking pieces of erotic art. There’s a game going on in one corner and people laughing and chanting, “Take it off, take it off, take it off…”
There are two empty sections lit in green and another with a yellow glow haloing it. Standing there with his arms around two women is Christophe.
Fuck!
Already one step ahead of me.
I position a smile on my face and head toward the table, vowing not to meet his gaze.
“Are you in?” a blond-haired man asks as I near. “We’ve got room for one more.”
“Yep. I’m in.” I sashay right up to the table, making sure to stand across from Christophe and not beside him. “I’m Tessa.”
“Glad to have you Tessa,” the blond guy says. “I’m Kev and this is Tyler.”
I shake their hands. Where Kev is blond and tanned, Tyler has dark hair and pale skin, so pale it almost glows, reminding me of every vampire image I’ve ever seen. His green eyes stand out like jewels because of his contrasting features.
He must use a hell of a strong sun block. Makes me wonder why someone like him would choose a beach destination to holiday. The two men are standing close together but I can’t decide if they’re here together as friends or more. Guess I’ll find out.
Next my gaze slides to the exotic dark-haired beauty standing beneath Christophe’s left arm. “Mia,” she says when our eyes meet. She holds out her hand while giving me a pouty, sexy smile.
“Hi.” We shake and her hand is as soft and delicate as the rest of her. I slide my attention to the next person, who just happens to be the man I’m pretending I don’t know. The one who just whispered dirty things in my ear ten minutes ago.
“Christophe.” He extends his hand. “Have we met before?” His gaze has that naughty, knowing look and he holds onto my hand a moment longer than necessary.
“I don’t think so.”
I turn to the woman on the other side of him.
“I’m Lucy.” She smiles, tentatively, like she’s embarrassed and then ducks out from under Christophe’s arm.
“I hope you’re a good player,” Kev says to me, eying my outfit.
“Why?”
He smiles wide, a Colgate, toothy grin. “Well, unless I’m mistaken…” He plucks at the spaghetti strap of my sundress. “You have exactly two articles of clothing to lose.”
I glance down at my dress—the kind with the built in cups—picturing the tiny pink thong I’m wearing beneath it. Yep, that’s it, that’s all. I’m going to be out of the game in two hands. Crap! I sure didn’t plan this very well. “Does footwear or jewelry count?”
Four of them shake their heads, laughing. Lucy’s brow furrows and I can just picture her counting the articles of clothing she’s wearing. I’m guessing six.
“I have a suggestion,” Christophe says, his cobalt eyes dark and corrupt, the right side of his mouth twisted in amusement. “Once we have no more clothes to lose, we play for dares. Until there’s only one left standing. Clothed.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mia says, rubbing the front of Christophe’s chest, not in a possessive way but certainly suggestive.
“Works for me,” Tyler says undressing Lucy with his dark gaze
, licking his lips like she’s edible and he’s starving. Well, that answers the question about Tyler.
When I meet Kev’s eyes, he’s still got that same happy, puppy-dog grin he’d been wearing the moment I walked up. The infectiousness of his smile pulls me in and makes me smile right back.
“Okay,” Kev says. “We take turns dealing, the game is Five-card Draw, one-eyed jacks wild. Two draw rounds of up to three cards. Any questions?”
Lucy raises her hand, as if this is a college class. “Sorry, I don’t play poker a lot. That’s thirty cards on the deal and potentially thirty-six cards on the draws. There aren’t enough cards.”
“We shuffle the discards.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nods quickly and blinks. By the way she’s fidgeting with the ring on the chain around her neck, this is uncharted territory for her.
I hide a smile. Lucy’s A-type personality has just been broadcast to the table and Tyler isn’t the only one intent on tainting her and her innocent, straight-laced nature. Under different circumstances, I’d be tempted to corrupt her, just a little. Except that I’m totally and completely distracted by the man who has been staring at me from the moment I stepped up to the table.
Staring…undressing me with his bedroom eyes.
Fuck! I need to get a grip if I hope to win this bet.
Kev shuffles the cards and deals.
The game is on.
The first few rounds do not go as expected. I win them all. I don’t know why that is, I usually suck at poker but I guess I just have the luck of the draw tonight. I got a full house my first hand, two pairs the second and then a high straight on the third.
Mia loses on purpose. Can’t say I blame her. She’s got a gorgeous body, large breasts, a narrow waist and womanly hips. Her skin is olive colored and smooth and I know this because I can pretty much see all of it as she is down to her electric blue panties and a belly button ring.
Kev’s attention is off me and fully on her. If I keep winning, I’m going to see if I can make that happen for him, even though Mia seems taken by Christophe. Perhaps, especially because she seems taken by Christophe. Unfortunately for her, that’s not going to happen, unless she’s into a threesome with me in the mix.
Lucy is down to her camisole and boy-cut undies and, after arguing that a belt is definitely an article of clothing, Kev is down to only his boxers. Tyler is shirtless, sockless, and beltless.
It was like Christophe knew he should dress for strip poker. The man is wearing so many articles of clothing he could lose another two rounds and still have his underwear on. Who the hell wears socks and expensive Italian shoes at a beach resort?
Miraculously, I win the next round as well, leaving Kev and Mia buck.
“Okay you two,” I say. “I want you to kiss, but no touching.”
They turn to me in unison and cry, “No touching?”
“Nope. If you do, you’re out.”
Kev practically leaps over to Mia’s side, standing as close to her as he can physically get without skin to skin contact. He ducks his head down and Mia goes up on tiptoes. Their lips meet and it’s a fairly quick, though juicy, kiss.
“You can do better than that.”
Kev flashes me a wide smile. “Damn straight.” Ignoring the no-touching condition, he wraps his hands around Mia’s waist, lifts her up onto the high table, moves between her legs and gives her a thoroughly deep, thoroughly wet kiss. Their tongues dance for all to see, their hips gyrate together and their hands frantically tug at one another as if they’ve got more clothes to remove.
When they finally break apart, Mia rests her head against Kev’s chest. With a huge grin, he says, “Looks like we’re out.” Then he picks Mia up and carries her off.
Lucy watches them go with a worried expression and then glances beneath her lashes at Tyler. I’m so confident I’ll win the next round, I’m already thinking about what the dare should be for Lucy and Tyler. The problem is, I don’t pay as much attention to my cards as I should and when we reveal our cards, Christophe has a flush—dammit—beating my queens and twos.
“About time you lost a hand, Mademoiselle,” Christophe says softly as he moves around Lucy—not paying any attention to her as she shimmies out of her panties—and comes to stand beside me. “Do you need help out of that dress?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then do me a favor.”
“What?”
“When you take it off, take it off, slowly.”
Chapter Eleven
Bathed in the filtered red light of our section, Christophe’s eyes are black. Not blue. Coal black. Wanton. Seductive.
With my gaze locked on his, I undo the tie of one spaghetti strap and then the other. The strings slither down my shoulders. Turning my back to him, I say over my shoulder, “Would you mind unzipping me?”
“It’d be my pleasure.”
His nimble fingers are incredibly adept as he carefully unlatches the top clasp before releasing the zipper, inch by inch, until my dress falls off my torso. I tug it down my hips and leave it pooled on the floor.
Taking my shoulders, he turns me around, blatantly staring at my body, from pink toe nails to pink undies to my bare chest.
“Beautiful,” he whispers.
I catch my breath. As much as I know we’re playing a game here, the way Christophe said the word—with reverence—makes it sound as if he’s not playing. As if he means it.
He moves closer, his bare chest pressed against mine, his fingers running up and down my back as if zipping and unzipping my spine. “I’ve waited a long time to see you again.”
“Monte Carlo wasn’t that long ago.”
“Mmm.” He steps back and there is a secretive smile flirting with his lips.
I like that smile. “Let’s get out of here.”
“One more hand, Tessa.”
“We don’t need to play,” I say.
“Yes, we do.”
“Why? This is just a game.” I wave my hand at the cards, at the table, noticing for the first time that Lucy and Tyler have disappeared. In fact, after a quick survey of the room, I realize it’s empty. Even the other table has finished its game. It’s as if everyone in the room stepped through some portal and—shazam!—disappeared.
Christophe pays no attention to the inexplicably empty room, his focus is entirely on me as he shuffles and deals. When I go to pick up my cards, he covers my hand. “It’s not just a game. When I win—and I will win—I’m going to ask you to put yourself in my hands.” He meets my gaze and his dark eyes are bottomless. “Not just for tonight.”
Why do those words steal my breath? Why does his arrogant, domineering demeanor make me hot and—God help me—wet for him?
“And if I win?”
His smile is deliberately measured. “Then I am in your hands.” He steps back, allowing me to pick up my cards.
How the hell am I supposed to concentrate? Seriously? This is not easy. I blink and squint at my cards, put them in some semblance of order and decide to discard two, hoping for a straight. Christophe deals me two new cards but doesn’t deal any to himself.
“You’re not trading any cards?”
“No.”
Fuck.
I discard three cards, because I’ve got a pair now and I’m hoping for another pair or three of a kind.
No such luck.
“Show me your cards.”
“A pair of tens.” I lay them down.
He lays his. He’s got a royal flush.
I stare at his cards, open-mouthed. “You cheated.” I cross my arms over my breasts. “There’s no way you could have dealt yourself that hand unless you cheated.”
“I didn’t cheat. It was luck, which is just another word for fate.”
He stands in front of me and sweeps my body with his penetrating, smug gaze. “I’ll give you a choice, and it’s the last one you’ll have tonight.”
“What?” I ask, shoulders back, arms crossed.
“You can take tho
se panties off here or at the club.”
“What club?”
He points, to the far wall. There’s a sign on a door I hadn’t noticed that reads, Club Sin, all done in red neon with devil horns on the C and N. “I’ve booked a room.”
“At the BDSM club?”
He touches my cheek, in that way I’m becoming much too accustomed to, and says quietly, “You wanted to know what I was like before. Tonight is your chance to meet the old me.” His expression turns serious. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I nod, but not all the way. I think it’s what I want, but how can I know for sure until I meet him.
“Good.”
In a flash, his whole persona changes. His face becomes grim, his eyes darken and his chest expands. “Then we will fuck the way I like it. Do you understand?”
He’s always given off a dominant air, but right now? My God, it’s like a switch flicked and Christophe is a completely different man. He’s the arrogant playboy I pictured him to be when I first met him in Monte Carlo. He’s the entitled billionaire who gets everything he wants. Yes, we’re playing a game but he’s so damn good, it doesn’t feel like play.
This isn’t what I had planned. I was going to seduce him, not submit to him.
So that’s what I tell him. “I’m not going to submit to you, if that’s what you think.”
“Yes, you are.” He steps closer, making me look up at him.
I shake my head even though my body is already willing and ready to do whatever this man suggests. “I’ll give you what you want, only when I want it.”
He does the same thing he did in Monte Carlo, fitting his trousered leg between mine, but this time he moves it, grinding up between my thighs, which feels fucking marvelous by the way. Taking hold of my wrists, he pulls my arms from my breasts. “I know what you want better than you do.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do.” He pulls me closer. “Your pupils are dilated.” He fingers my wrist. “Your pulse is erratic and there’s heat emanating off your skin.” He leans close to my face. “Your breath is coming fast, like you find it hard to breathe.” He leans down as if to kiss me but he doesn’t. He drops his head lower and inhales deeply. “And, I can smell your pussy.” Standing straight, he looks down at me, his words clipped and calculated. “You’re wet for me. Your clit is throbbing. You’re hoping I’ll slide my hand up your thigh and brush my fingers against you.”
