Turning back, he grabs me just as I swing my legs off the bed. Capturing me, he pulls me down and holds me in place. “Only if we can play nurse/doctor.”
Trying, but not super hard, to squirm out of his hold, I have to laugh. “As a matter of fact, I have an excellent bedside manner.”
His mouth finds my ear. “That’s great to hear, my little bedwrecker, because I’d like you to use that skill right now,” his lips trail down my neck, “by staying right here where you’re needed.”
“Shower,” I tell him as his lips close around my nipple and I writhe beneath him.
“Later,” he tells me back, trailing his hot mouth down to my navel.
Oh, that feels too good.
“We have all night, nurse of mine,” he says, blowing against my clit. “First I have to taste you.”
Bucking at the contact, I certainly am not going to argue or tell him I planned on being the doctor.
I rise on my elbows. Keen on his belly on the bed is just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
And soon his mouth is on my sex and I cry out when he kisses me there, right there, on the spot made to drive every woman wild.
Then he licks me, and moans, “Oh, fuck, you taste so good.”
It’s so strange, I feel like I am floating on a cloud. The buzz long gone, I’m high on this lust, this driving desire for more. For the short time we have together, I’m willing to be whatever he wants me to be.
Nurse.
Doctor.
Poker player.
Hell, craps shooter if that’s what he wants.
And yes, even his little bedwrecker . . .
If he insists.
Maggie
When a player puts all his or her chips in a pot, that player is said to be all in. In this case the chips are fish crackers from the minibar and we aren’t playing for money.
The sun is just coming up. “I’m going all in,” I announce.
He snorts lightly and drinks more juice. “You sure you want to do that?”
I lean forward in my towel, pushing all of my fishies to the center of the bed. “I am.”
Keen’s damp hair falls in genuine disarray over his forehead. “You do remember a full house beats two pairs, which beats three of a kind?”
“I do, smart-ass.” I stick my tongue out at him.
Yes, we’ve been at this for almost three hours, including breaks of course to pay up. And yes, he has won every hand, even though he is really trying to teach me. But you see, winning this hand is more than winning the sexual favors or shower privileges of the past hands. Not that I didn’t enjoy those fruits, even on the losing end. This is for the gold, the one who will make the first trip to see the other.
“I’ll see you,” Keen says as he pushes his chips forward.
Warmth swirls inside me as I put my ace and three of hearts down.
“Not bad,” Keen murmurs, setting his own cards down.
I make like I’m stretching and purr a little. “Mind if I go for my victory lap now?”
Straight faced, he shoves a licorice stick in his mouth and makes like it’s a cigar. “Just hold on.”
He flips the next card . . .
An ace of clubs.
Crap. Crap. And double crap. I am so going to lose that I can feel my shoulders start to sag.
Wait!
The tell.
He called that the tell.
I won’t give him any tell. I’ll bluff instead.
“Oh, lookey-lookey.” I kick my legs up a little and sit back, letting my towel open in the process. “Now that is one great card.”
Chewing on the end of his licorice stick, he glances across at me—more like stares right where I intended for him to stare. “Not going to work.”
“What isn’t going to work?” I ask innocently.
“Your sex appeal. Serious card players are immune to everything around them but the game.”
Honestly, I can’t help myself. I know he prides himself on being one of those super-serious players. He’s played in Vegas, underground in LA, and all over New York. He’s told me so. I think his passion for it is super sexy. So bad boy. Yet, I have to do this. I know exactly what I can do to distract him and I start with letting my towel fall from my body. And I’m just getting started.
Licking my finger, I draw a line right between my breasts to my clit and begin to rub slow, deliberate circles around it.
He’s watching.
Jaw slack.
Eyes gleaming.
Cock springing to life between the folds of his towel right before my eyes. And if I look hard enough, I think there’s some pre-cum on his tip already.
There, I did it, so I stop but leave my hand right where it is so I can gloat. Before I can do that, though, the fun turns serious.
In one fell swoop, he wipes the poker table from the center of the bed and rises up on his knees. “Don’t stop. Keep touching yourself,” he whispers in a voice rough-edged with need.