by Jenna Kelly
She was an animal. Out for her own pleasure. Ignoring his.
Her hips worked faster. The orgasm grew. David's legs were bouncing on the bed, as if telling her it was too much. She snarled again. Who cared? She was fucking him the way Lindsay had fucked her.
It didn't take long. She screamed when she came, her juices flooding his face. She paid no attention, content to let him drown. She slithered back and forth across his face until the spasms began to subside and only then did she free his imprisoned head.
"Natalie…" he coughed, his hands rubbing his cum covered red face.
"That's for being such a prick before I left," she cut him off, easing down his chest and taking hold of his half erect cock, sticking through the gap in his boxers. She sheathed him in an instant, smiling at his loud gasp. "And this is for being a good boy and winning us the Vegas trip."
Her hips urgently thrust down even before she'd finished speaking. Her movements were fast, almost frantic. When his big hands grabbed her manic hips in an attempt to slow her down, she slapped them away. "Keep fucking me," she ordered with a low growl, oblivious to the fact she was the one doing the fucking.
David's head dropped back onto the white pillow, his eyes staring up into hers. She responded by dropping the pace. Teasing. Her movements were slow, deliberate, letting them both feel the deliciously clutching movements of her wet pussy on his cock.
She was sending out a message. She was the one in control. Just like she would be when Vegas saw her talent!
When David reached for her breasts, her laugh as she leant back was delirious. Her inner thighs tightened around his sides and she went to town, controlling him like a rodeo rider on a bucking bronco. Her hair bounced on her shoulders. Her tits danced an erotic dance.
When David came, she howled as the thick bursts splattered her insides. The praying mantis would soon be devouring her prey.
****
Reagan Faulkner looked at the ceiling. Is this what her life had come down to? An overweight, heavily panting senior citizen, thrusting down into her sinewy body? The only saving Natalie was that he hadn't been fucking her for long. And he didn't look as if he was going to last much longer.
Her hands reached up, closing behind his neck, her fingers softly stroking his salt and peppery George Clooney hair. The thought of the film star suddenly changed her perspective. She closed her eyes and wrapped her feet around his heavily sweating back.
"That's it baby, that's it. Fuck me, darlin'. Fuck me, George!"
"Barry…" he corrected, sweat dropping from his forehead as he burrowed his head down against her shoulder. From the way he was grunting, he was close to either an orgasm or a heart attack.
Coming to Vegas was the start of making a better life for herself. How had it come to this? Initially, she'd signed up for the club as a dancer, not quite understanding the type of dancing required. But after a short time, she quite enjoyed it. Exotic dancing was a turn on, even though stripping may have been a more accurate description.
Some of the girls did more, of course, after Big Jack set them up with so called clients. What was she thinking, most of them did—she'd been the rare exception. Not that the girls thought of themselves as prostitutes. They 'serviced' clients, not fucked them.
It was a million miles away from how she'd been brought up. And not something she'd ever consider. Not until she'd met Charles, that was. Her gambler boyfriend had gotten himself into debt with some of Vegas's more notorious private clubs. Six months ago, he'd found himself five thousand dollars in the hole with no way of getting out.
The loan sharks he'd been borrowing from were breathing down his neck and threatening pretty unpleasant outcome if the money wasn't repaid.
From there, it had been easy to fall down the next rung. Every other girl was doing it. They needed the money. Charles told her it wouldn't be for long, just until 'they' got themselves on their feet. So she'd started 'servicing' clients, too. Geez, she could just see her mother's face—
"Want me on top, George," she asked, getting rid of the negative thoughts as easily as she pushed back the strand of red hair from across her left eye. She slipped out from under his sweat-coated body even before he could correct his name.
Her dangling, fake diamond belly piercing caught the light as she crawled from under him and across his plump body. The image of a beached whale came into her mind and she quickly shook it away. George Clooney, she told herself. George Clooney.
Her full, freckled breasts danced as she settled herself. Just as she took his chubby cock in her hand and prepared to slide it home, another thought came into her mind. Reacting to her instinct, she jerked her body upwards, her silky wetness making a damp trail across his stomach and chest. This was strictly against the rules, but what the hell—
"Make it good and I'll finish by fucking your brains out, George," she grunted as her lithe thighs settled either side of his face. Her freckles almost bounced on her skin as she clamped them around his head.
She knew she was in big trouble if he objected. Ming and Big Jack would both throw her out. She'd seen how cold and clinical they'd been with other girls. For a brief second, she wondered if her instinctive moment of instantaneous rebellion was such a good idea.
Then, her overweight lover stretched his neck upwards and ran his tongue across her clean-shaven sex. Yesssss—
She gave a moan as she ground her clit down onto his fat lips. Close your eyes, she told herself. Close your eyes and think of George Clooney.
George proved up to the task. His arms curled under her thighs, groping at the taut swell of her hard ass. Her muscles flexed as she rode his face.
"Fuck, baby! Yesss!" She leant backwards, resting one arm on the bed as the other circled his chubby erection behind her, still hard in her hand. She jerked him in time with her undulations.
From nowhere, her orgasm sprinted through her body, her sex drowning his mouth and nostrils in syrupy liquid. Fuck! Where did that come from? She rarely came with a punter, not even the rare good-looking ones.
The freckled redhead didn't wait for her body to recover. Still basking in the satisfaction of her climax, she swiftly moved back down his body, pressing her full and warm breasts into his sweaty chest. The overweight man had surprised her. Now for his reward.
Even as she sheathed him, her thoughts returned to her situation. Another couple of months, that's what she'd give herself. Another couple of months and she'd change to legitimate employment. God knows what.
Unless something good happened in the meantime. Tonight, she'd be a hostess at the WSOP introductory party. Maybe they'd have better-paid jobs? She snorted to herself. Fat chance. Where would she earn more money than she did now? Legitimately? With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention back to the punter beneath her. Time to finish him off.
"Come on, George," she whispered, jerking down on his hardness. "I'm gonna take you to heaven."
Three downward thrusts were too much for the old man. "Barry…" he grunted, seconds before splashing her insides.
***
The non-stop flight from London, Gatwick was circling around Las Vegas, awaiting approval to land at the McCarron airport.
It had taken a few phone calls to ensure that Natalie's guest spot, and Marissa's photoshoot, coincided with David's trip to play in the World Series. Even at the last minute, there was some doubt. But Nikolai's intervention had saved the day. Marissa fucked him again as his recompense. Though with a cock like his, it was her reward, really.
The flight had passed relatively quickly. David had enjoyed the sister's excited chatter, and then buried himself in one of the poker books he'd brought with him. It was probably tempting fate to brush up on The Endgame, but you never knew!
Harrington's book was interesting. When he'd made it to the final table in 1995, the other players had rejected his proposal of a nine-way settlement. He'd tried to convince them this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them to share the final table prize money. With no
takers, he won the full million himself.
What were his chances of making the final table this year? His sarcastic laugh at himself attracted the attention of the two sisters.
"Talking to yourself?" Marissa teased with that sexy smile of hers. "You've gotta keep that noise down!" She nudged Natalie before returning to their conversation.
They could talk! The two beautiful sisters had engaged in excited conversation for the last hour, frequently laughing out loud as they talked. And every hot-blooded male eye was on the two women. At times he felt as if he was escorting two movie stars.
Maybe they'd change their attitude if he were successful? As supportive as he was for Natalie and Marissa's once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, he felt the poor relation. Neither woman cared too much about his search for destiny. It was as if they felt he was there to look after them during their pursuit of fame. And play a little poker as well.
Well… perhaps. But he wouldn't be leaving Vegas without giving it the best shot that he could. Things had moved on from 1995. Simply reaching the Final Table this year would make each player an overnight millionaire. That might just rescue his and Natalie's relationship! Things had improved recently anyway -- they'd been fucking like newlyweds for the past couple of weeks.
He pulled the Practically Poker documentation from his flight bag and flicked through it. He'd been drawn to play in the second flight, on Day 1-B of the Main Event. Because of the size of the field, there'd be two Day Ones, a slight reduction from recent years.
The combined survivors would make it to the official Day Two. 'Survivors' was the right word. Stay in the race, and then the tournament really started.
***
Although she and Natalie were heady with excitement, Marissa kept an eye on David. He was the older brother she never had. The wannabee model was worried about Natalie's confession she would have ended their relationship had it not been for the Vegas trip. She was using him.
She understood Natalie's perspective. She and David spent less and less quality time together. He was working long hours. So was she. In their spare time, her sister travelled to various clubs pursuing her dream. Yes, David watched her whenever he could. But in between, Natalie told her he was constantly playing poker.
It had become more and more frustrating for her 'big' sister.
Maybe this trip was just what they needed? A reward for Natalie, for her patience with David? And if she was a success in her one night's performance at Samson Smith's club, perhaps that might rekindle their flame? She hoped so.
In truth, Marissa had always thought of them as an unlikely couple. Natalie was so outgoing, always an extrovert, willing to do anything to enjoy herself or advance her singing career. David was more laid back. Seemingly happy to see where life was going to take him. That attitude was an anathema to her sister.
The blonde stared past the excited chatter of Natalie to observe her surrogate brother. His head was buried in a book. Probably about poker. Her glance shifted back to Natalie's animated face. Yes, they really were an unlikely couple. It was such a shame.
Her sister's eyes flashed at her as Natalie fluffed up her silky, brown hair. "You haven't heard a word!"
Marissa grinned, her deep brown eyes staring into her sister's. Natalie had always been able to read her mind. "I have…" she protested.
Natalie's laugh stilled her objection. "No you haven't, little sis. What were you thinking?"
The blonde sighed softly. Her glance across at David told her he wasn't listening, but she leant closer to Natalie nevertheless. "That I really liked David," she confided, her voice a soft whisper.
Her sister pulled away for a second, turning around in the cramped seat so that she could look directly into Marissa's face. "Yes, I know. But I've told you, it's all but over, Marissa."
The blonde's eyes widened. She pushed a lock of hair back behind an ear. "But—"
Natalie shook her head. Her voice lowered to a hiss. "Too late, little sis. It's too late. The fire's gone out."
Marissa's gaze shot past her sister to make sure that David hadn't overheard. He was in conversation with an older man across the aisle. The way the guy was looking at David's book, it was clear he'd found a fellow poker aficionado.
"Then why—"
"You know! He won the trip," Natalie said simply, with a shrug of her shoulders. "The flight and accommodation is paid for."
Marissa recoiled slightly against the small window behind her. Her sister had always been brutally honest with her. "That's the bit I'm struggling with, Natalie! It doesn't seem fair."
Natalie's almond eyes narrowed. "It's fair, Marissa. I'm thinking of it as saying goodbye in style."
***
She sat back in her seat as the airplane commenced its descent. Was Marissa right? Was she using David? Natalie knew the answer even before she asked herself the question. But she hadn't any regrets. The visit to Vegas wasn't costing David anything. It just meant she was delaying telling him her decision to end their relationship.
If she needed any justification for playing him along, it came when he told her he'd decided to 'invest' around a thousand dollars of his 'saved' poker winnings so that he could play in a competition before the Main Event. To gain experience, for fuck's sake!
His attempts to justify it as coming from his money, his poker winnings, were insulting. He'd never once confided he had a separate bankroll from his winnings. And yet he'd known how tight money was for them both. It had been the final straw!
The strange thing was that she and David had fucked more in the short time since he'd won the trip, than they had in quite some time. How ironic! It was nothing to do with their relationship. Or even David. It was the thrill of anticipation at what the future held.
She thought back to Lindsay's recent London concert. Inviting Natalie as her guest of honour had been such a fucking turn on. Later, in the hotel suite they'd shared, the country diva had fucked Natalie all night. Even now, the thought of the strap-on sent little shivers through the brunette.
You have the voice, Natalie, the blonde had told her. No question about that. Now you have the opportunity. But before you go, you need to be sure how much you want it.
Natalie had laughed at first. She wanted it with all her heart. When she'd told Lindsay, her voice had shaken with the intensity of her feelings. Nothing would stop her!
Lindsay's next words hadn't stopped her. But they'd made her pause. Natalie, do you know how many cocks I've sucked? How many men I've fucked? Just to get to where I am now?
It had made Natalie think more clearly about her aspirations. Was it really what she wanted? If that's what it took?
The brunette felt herself blushing. Her desire for success was all consuming. Not only would she do anything to make it as a singer, the thought of giving head or fucking a stranger was a fantasy she'd always had. To do that… and guarantee fame and fortune—
She pressed her thighs together in the seat. God, she was so wet at the thought. She'd been turned on ever since. And night after night, David had reaped the benefit.
"You okay?" her sister asked, noticing her shuffle in her seat. It wasn't like Natalie to be nervous of flying.
Despite the seat belt, Natalie manoeuvred around so that her back was to David. The thought had been with her for some time. If sex was a prerequisite to opening doors, how had Marissa secured her audition?
"Tommy," she whispered into her sister's ear. "Don't you miss the sex?"
Marissa coloured. "It… it hasn't been that long—"
Like a good sister, Natalie instantly detected her nervousness. "Yes it has," she insisted. "You told me you two used to fuck like rabbits. How long have you been without it?"
Marissa's blush turned to deep red. Natalie knew instantly.
"I thought so!" she said, a little too loudly. When her younger sister's eyes warned her to be quiet, she lowered her voice. "Nikolai!"
Marissa nodded and laughed. "Talent alone isn't enough, even when you're as hot as
I am, big sister."
Natalie smiled a contented smile. She knew as much! "Was he good?"
"Like a bull," the blonde whispered, glancing around to ensure David wasn't party to their conversation. Thank goodness for that guy across the aisle who was still regaling her surrogate brother with tales of his own poker exploits. "You have no idea—"
"From the smug look on your face, I can imagine," Natalie responded, playfully tapping her sister's tanned knee.
"It's a shame Robert's gay," Marissa laughed, her voice now a conspiratorially low whisper. "Otherwise you might have had the same benefits!"
