Betting on Love

by Alexis Abbott

  It feels like we both have words on the tips of our tongues, but we can’t decide if it’s a show of weakness to be the first one to speak. When neither of us can do so, we meet in a hot, fierce kiss again as my fingers find her wet folds. She’s hot and slick, and I can’t help but chuckle when I feel that.

  “You,” she says when we break the kiss, “have no room to make fun of me. I can feel how hard you are. You want this just as much as I do.” She pushes her hips against mine to let my thick cock brush against her thigh, and it pulses, betraying me.

  “Got me there,” I growl, taking my fingers out and slipping them into my mouth to lick clean before I pull her pants down. “I’ll have to show you just how hard I am.”

  She kicks her pants off the rest of the way, along with her shoes, while I work my pants open and let my cock spring free. She gasps as soon as I press its underside to her groin and start grinding against her.

  My whole body awakens at her touch. Her lips are so wet and desperate for me to fill them, and right now, I don’t want to hold anything back. We have too much tension, too much raw energy to work out on each other, and hardly any time to do it.

  She jumps up and wraps her legs around my waist while I pin her against the wall, and I catch her ass, holding her up with ease as our foreheads touch. I’m still holding her hands tied above her head, and the blush in her face tells me she’s enjoying what’s happening to her.

  I push her body up a little further and let the tip of my cock make contact with her pussy, and I listen to the almost musical sound of her gasp. I bring my face to hers, and as we kiss, I let her sink slowly onto me.

  With every inch she slides down my shaft, I feel her whole body tense and her back arch as she sinks down onto me all the way to the hilt.

  I start rocking back and forth, and within seconds, that turns into aggressive, energized rutting. I pin her tight against the wall, using one hand to remind her how much control I have over her arms while the other hand holds her up. Each time I buck into her, I feel my crown grind against every smooth inch of her inner depths, and my cock throbs inside her in desire. And each time, my arms work together in perfect sync to turn her body in such a way that she gets the most out of every thrust.

  Her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing is quick and desperate. As my rhythm gets fiercer, I can see the tension and desire welling up in her face. She cracks her eyes open to look at me, and when she does, I can’t help but let go of her wrists and bring my hand down to grab her hair. I tug her back gently to expose her neck while I fuck her.

  She lets out an excited gasp as my teeth graze her, and I feel her getting tighter around me. She desperately wants to bring her arms down and wrap them around me, but I remind her how much control I have over her by pulling her hair the other way and ravishing the other side of her neck.

  My hand grips her ass tighter, and I feel the telltale signs that she’s close to the brink. I start letting myself go thrust by thrust, letting my pulsing cock free its inhibitions and start to release more and more tension and precum with each new piston.

  Everything about her fills me with pure, raw desire. Her mind works faster than some of the finest criminals I’ve ever known to walk through my doors, and she’s absolutely more dangerous than any of them. Her body feels like it was made to meld with mine, and the fact that she gets such satisfaction out of me is even better.

  I get faster and faster, losing my precision, and something about that raw, bestial vigor I fuck her with sends her spilling over. She lets her jaw fall open as an almost worried moan escapes her lips, which I silence with a kiss as we start coming together.

  My seed empties into her as we let out desperate groans together, never breaking pace, never stopping our motions, never letting up for a moment. My knees almost go weak as the force of the orgasm wracks my body, and she tries to squirm this way and that, but I keep her pinned, taking every last drop of me.

  When it’s finally over, I feel utterly spent inside her, and she looks at me with that flustered, glowing face that haunts my every spare thought anymore.

  “Does that answer all your questions?” I growl.

  Hadley

  “Hadley, are you ready to go?”

  At first, it’s difficult for me to distinguish where the question is coming from. It’s like all the feeling in my body, all the strength, has been sapped. My lifeblood, the electrical currents that bounce through my limbs, carrying on a conversation with my brain, it all seems dampened. Softened. Muted, even. I want to turn my head and find the source of the voice calling out to me. The tone is so familiar. So urgent, but with an eerie singsong quality that puts me on edge.

  Someone is calling my name. And slowly I realize that the voice isn’t inside my head. It’s out there somewhere in the blackness, reaching like a ghostly, pale arm from the shadows. Extending to me. Asking for me. Trying to pull me along.

  “Come on. We don’t have much time. Follow me,” urges the voice. It’s a female voice, one I recognize. She’s got a slight tremble to her words. I can vaguely summon up an image of her face on the projection screen of my mind. She’s there. Her face, looming smooth and clear as a full moon, but with sad eyes and a downturned mouth.

  She’s worried for me. Deep down, I know how odd that is. Because normally, I would be the one worried about her. She’s holding out a hand. I can feel the warmth radiating off of her body even though she’s out of reach, out of sight. Like my eyes just won’t focus. It’s all refracted light, bowing and shining and folding in on itself. It takes all my willpower to figure out how to part my lips. My body is slow to carry out the demands of my brain. But it does. It works. Air swells in my vocal cords like the pumping of some great pipe and I manage a word.

  “How?”

  It’s the most direct question I can cough out.

  She hesitates. I feel her blinking at me. I think she’s annoyed with me. I wasn’t supposed to question it. I was supposed to do what she told me. It’s not anger so much as exasperation, though.

  “There isn’t time. Hadley, are you coming or not?” she asks.

  “I’m trying, Vanessa,” I respond in a mumble. “It’s hard to get away.”

  “That’s only because somebody has you trapped,” she admonishes me, shaking her head so that her glossy hair tosses from side to side. “He’s got you caught here.”

  “He would never hurt me,” I protest. My voice is barely a whisper.

  “Maybe not on purpose,” she says pointedly. “But the longer you wait, the harder it will be to disentangle yourself. You sent me away. Do the same with yourself.”

  “It’s not so simple, Vanessa,” I tell her, with a hint of pleading.

  Vanessa tilts her head, light shining dimly where her facial features should be.

  “You have to choose,” she tells me, and finally her face begins to emerge from the fog of double vision and blurry shadow. Vanessa is wearing an expression of concern. She looks beautiful and healthy, but cold, even as I sense her heat. She’s alive. But there’s something missing. Maybe she isn’t real.

  Well, yeah, she’s not real, I think to myself with a burst of sudden clarity, you’re having a dream. None of this is real. And yet… you still have to answer her.

  “Make sure you choose the right path. Both will be dangerous but one will walk you straight off a cliff,” Vanessa chides me. She folds her arms over her chest, regarding me with more pity than fury. Somehow, that’s worse, though. I can’t abide pity.

  “I can handle myself,” I assert defiantly. She raises one perfectly-arched brow.

  “Ego will get you nowhere,” she says. “Meet me when you get free.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask, my heart sinking as Vanessa’s shimmery figure slowly turns to walk away from me toward the engulfing darkness.

  She doesn’t reply. I try to step after her, but my body is locked again. I can’t move. I can only stand here helplessly as Vanessa disappears. And when she’s gone, I feel a power
ful fear begin to surge through my body. Goosebumps raise up on my skin. There’s a sensation of icy cold water dripping down my spine.

  It’s totally quiet now except for the quickening thump of my heart. And in between the beats is another rhythm. Soft, sure footsteps behind me. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’m not alone here anymore.

  Scarcely able to breathe, I close my eyes and try to turn and face whoever or whatever is coming up behind me, but I can’t. I can’t move. I’m frozen here, listening helplessly as the approaching creature’s breathing gets louder and closer. Almost ragged. Animalistic.

  I feel a puff of hot breath on the back of my neck and suddenly all the feeling comes pouring back into my body. I let out a scream of terror and start thrashing around, confused and horrified, fearing for my life.

  “Help!” I gasp, the pillowcase under my cheek sticky with saliva. The word is a soft, fervent whisper—just loud enough to wake myself up out of a dream.

  I lie there with my eyes wide for a few moments, just letting my chest heave with painful heartbeats. There’s a faint glow of sunlight peeking out around the rectangular edges of the blackout curtain hanging over the window. It’s mostly dark in the bedroom, but those edges lend just enough light for me to look around and find my bearings. It all comes back to me. Slowly.

  I am in an apartment. A secret apartment. One belonging to none other than the violent, dangerous man who was slated to kill my boss. I’m with him now. It’s his breath I can feel ticklish and hot on the back of my neck. His hand resting on my hip as he breathes in and out calmly.

  We slept together...again. What kind of a reckless fool am I turning into? What is it he has over me? What power is he using to keep me around even though I know perfectly well that he is nothing but trouble. I turn ever so slightly to look back at him over my bare shoulder. That impossibly handsome face looks stoic and thoughtful even in sleep. I wonder what he dreams about. Surely he has the same fucked-up, seemingly prophetic dreams that I have. Anyone who lives such a high-risk lifestyle must dream about dark things. Right?

  Unless he’s some kind of sociopath who doesn’t feel the same way I do. Maybe all of this mess, the casinos, the hunt, the thrill, maybe it’s all just nothing to him. Maybe he sleeps easy at night because he doesn’t have the same lingering doubts and regrets I do. Sure, I know how to make myself cold. I know how to play the game. I can be aloof. But I still have feelings. I still have emotions that guide and trap me from time to time. I still have morals. Does Dominick feel that way, too? Is he still human? Or is he empty inside? Maybe he really is the monster from my dream.

  But that’s a lot to assume, especially of a man as unreadable and enigmatic as Dom.

  He is still asleep, even though I’m awake. I’m pleased to see that my little outburst wasn’t enough to disturb him. Right now, I need him to keep sleeping. I need him to be oblivious while I crawl out of bed and go looking around.

  If there’s one thing I have learned in all my years in my very niche industry, it’s the value of a good reconnaissance mission. Know thy friends. And know thy enemy even better.

  Inch by inch, using up every scrap of patience I can cobble together, I begin to slide out from underneath Dom’s arm. His hand slips down my hip to the bed with a gentle thud and I wince, grimacing as I wait for the inevitable sounds of him waking up. But it doesn’t happen. He’s still asleep. Apparently, he’s a much heavier sleeper than I would have guessed. I manage to scoot out from under the sheets, shivering as my bare skin meets the cool air.

  I glance around, squinting in the low light for my clothes. Then I remember that we fucked out in the living room. My clothes are probably still there, wherever he tossed them in the heat of the moment. I blush to myself a little, surprised at how sheepish and bashful I feel about the whole thing. It’s uncharacteristic for me to feel that way. After all, it’s just sex, right? It’s not a crime.

  I tiptoe across the bedroom, thankful to see that the door is ajar so I don’t have to risk waking Dom up with the creaky doorknob or something. I simply push the door a little more open and slip through, padding down the hallway stark naked, eyes sharp and on the hunt for clues of any kind. Something, anything, to tell me more about the real intentions and motivations of the man I just slept with. I find my panties and a clean, folded, oversized T-shirt draped over a chair. I put them on, just so that I don’t have to be totally exposed while I snoop around Dominic’s apartment. I walk into the kitchen and find the usual suspects: wine, whiskey, canned goods, the bare minimum level of cookery and utensils. I can tell he’s not much of a chef. But a guy like him… he can afford to eat whatever he wants, wherever he wants.

  There’s a small television set hanging over the kitchen bar counter. I walk over and flick it on, hurriedly turning down the volume to low as I search for a news station. Finally, I find one and stand back to listen as a local news anchor gives an explanation. There’s a glint in her eyes that tells me instantly, before she even speaks, that this is a juicy story.

  Especially because she’s standing out front of the casino I last worked in, and there are ribbons of glossy police tape behind her, cordoning off a crime scene. I bite my lip, feeling my stomach twist with anxiety.

  “The unidentified body of a man has been discovered in an alleyway, just outside the walls of a well-known casino. The police have given no comments, and the victim’s identity has not been released. We will do our best to keep the public notified every step of the way. You can count on me,” the reporter declares firmly.

  “Shit,” I murmur, my hand flying forward to turn off the set. The screen goes black and I stand there staring at my dark reflection in the glass, my chest heaving visibly as my heart pounds. God. What is going on?

  The body of a man. Outside the casino.

  I’m no idiot. I can put two and two together. I just can’t believe I was ever stupid enough to believe his cockamamie dodging of my questions. I just let him lie to me. I let Dominick twist and bend me around. I let him into my world. I don’t do that for just anybody. I live a solitary life and it’s supposed to stay that way, and yet, I let him in.

  And now look what’s happened. I knew it. I knew he killed Carl.

  I can’t believe I trusted him.

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep tears from burning in my eyes as I storm out of the kitchen. I walk into the living room and start rifling through Dominic’s stuff. I pull books off the shelves. I toss blankets and pillows on the floor. I move the couches to look under them on the floor. I roll up the fancy Persian rug. I check all the hidden spaces behind the television, inside the drawers, inside the vents. I don’t even know what I’m looking for specifically. I’m just searching. Maybe for a reason. Maybe for something to tell me I’m wrong.

  I move down the hallway to the guest bathroom and step inside, my hands shaking as I go through every item on the counter, in the shower, under the sink. And it’s there, hiding behind a roll of toilet paper, wrapped up in more toilet paper, that I find the smoking gun in the form of a set of brass knuckles.

  Brass knuckles covered in blood.

  “Fuck,” I murmur to myself, shaking my head as I kneel on the bathroom tile. There it sits, gleaming and slick with blood. Almost glowing, like some mystical force has guided me to find it. This is proof. Evidence that Dominick has not been as honest with me as he should have been. Proof that he’s the bad guy. That he went against my wishes.

  The body in the alley. The bloody knuckles.

  “Damn it, Dominick,” I hiss through gritted teeth. I’ve got to get out of here.

  “What the hell are you doing?” comes a deep, annoyed voice from off to my right. I’m so startled that I gasp and fall backward onto my ass, my eyes widening as they fall on the tall, hulking figure in the doorway.

  Dom.

  I frantically scoot backwards until my back is pressed against the cold, white porcelain of the bathtub. I stare up at him with what I hope is defiance but which pro
bably looks more like terror. And Dominick looks pissed. Betrayed, almost. He’s standing over me in nothing but a pair of boxers that hug his thighs and do very little to disguise the massive cock between his legs. I gulp hard.

  “Are you snooping?” he asks, glaring down at me.

  I shrug. “No.”

  He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t lie to me, Hadley,” he murmurs.

  I scoff. “Me? Lie to you? Wow, that’s rich.”

  “Come on. What are you talking about?” he asks.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Dominick! Jesus, I’m not an idiot. Yeah, it was stupid to ever believe you in the first place, but now—”

  “But now, what? What, Hadley? What do you think your little Sherlock Holmes moment is telling you? What do you think you know?” he demands, somehow holding back even as his hands curl into fists.

  “There was a dead body found in the alley outside of the casino. You’re really going to try and tell me that has nothing to do with you? Seriously?” I snarl at him.

  “You know, one of these days somebody is going to have to teach you how to mind your own business,” Dominick snaps. “That would be a great lesson for you to learn.”

  “Don’t you talk down to me like that,” I snip, hastily getting to my feet. I’m realizing, though, how difficult it is to feel intimidating while dressed in only my panties and Dom’s shirt. Still, I have to stand my ground.

  “Wait, so you really think I have something to do with some body found in an alleyway? Really? Hadley, you know I’m not that sloppy. If I wanted to kill someone, I wouldn’t leave his corpse out there in full view for the world to see. I may not be the innocent, law-abiding citizen you wish I was, but I’m a consummate professional. I keep my work clean,” he says.

  I raise an eyebrow and snort. “Yeah. Emphasis on ‘consummate.’”