24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Walker
M organ is bent over the roulette table, eyes sparkling with excitement as she cheers for the wheel to land on red. I’ve never gambled in my life because it’s a ridiculous waste of money and incredibly frivolous, but as I watch her laugh and jump when her color hits, I begin to understand the appeal. Though to be honest, I would understand the appeal of anything that made her this happy.
The rest of the group left a while ago, but she was on a winning streak, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave her alone. Multiple guys have already come up to the table to hit on her, and I don’t know if she’s politely declining simply because I’m hovering like a damn bodyguard, or because she really isn’t interested, but I don’t intend to find out.
All I can picture is her coming home early tomorrow morning after staying in a stranger’s hotel room, and the thought makes me feel twitchy. I wouldn’t blame her because the number of times we’ve both thrown out the word friend is egregious, but I’m very quickly beginning to feel like something has to change after this weekend.
We’re not just friends anymore, and we both know it.
“Walkie come on,” Morgan pouts, leaning over the table as she slides her winning chips closer. “Help me make a bet. You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”
I slip my arm around her waist. “I am having fun.”
And it’s the truth—I can’t remember a time when I’ve had more fun than tonight, and it’s all because of the person with me. Morgan has such a giddy joy and enthusiasm for life, that it’s impossible to not enjoy every moment with her.
“Well, I would have more fun if you participated.” She eyes me like she’s trying to be intimidating.
She’s not—but it’s cute as hell.
I sip my water casually, trying to act unaffected by her tornado of energy. She’s glowing under the fluorescent casino lights, her chestnut hair in loose curls that slide over her bare shoulder each time she gets excited and flails her body around.
“What do I get out of participating?”
“Bragging rights, obviously. Though I doubt you can do better than me. I’m up five hundred bucks.”
“You’re right. I can’t,” I confirm, not interested in gambling whatsoever. “And we should keep it that way if you want to break that rental lease, don’t you think?”
In the past two weeks, I’ve been over to her place several times to fix various issues. It might be a nice place, but the landlords are pieces of shit and don’t address anything in a timely fashion. She’s mentioned trying to move, but the lease she signed is ridiculous and requires her to pay over six grand to back out of it. And she won’t be getting out of there any sooner by losing all of her money on a game of chance.
“Such a spoilsport,” she mutters under her breath, stretching her arms above her head with a small yawn. “Okay, but let’s make a side bet, just you and me.”
I sigh. “Fine, but you’re only putting in the minimum.”
Tables in Vegas have a set amount that you have to play for each bet, usually ranging from ten dollars to upwards of thousands. The one we’re sitting at is currently asking for twenty-five bucks a spin, and the entire night Morgan has been betting on colors, so the odds are essentially fifty-fifty to win or lose. I have no idea how she’s been choosing the correct color each time, but my intuition says that it’s best to stop while she’s ahead.
“Fine,” she echoes, narrowing her gaze on mine. “If it lands on black, you win. We head back to the penthouse and go to bed.”
I wait for her to continue, knowing there’s more to this based on the glimmer in her eyes.
Her mouth curves into a wild grin as she adds, “If it lands on red again, I win.”
“And what, exactly, am I agreeing to if you win?”
She draws her bottom lip between her teeth. “That we’ll go play.”
***
“ S hhhh,” Morgan whispers, tiptoeing toward my room.
She looks like she’s going on some sort of bear hunt, swiveling her head back and forth dramatically in search of predators. I have no idea what she thinks we’re going to encounter—it’s well past midnight and the penthouse is silent when we got back. Our friends are definitely asleep, but even if they aren’t, who gives a shit? I’m sure they would be proud that we’re hooking up.
“You’re the one making noise,” I reply quietly, swatting at her plump ass as she pauses to open my door.
Morgan yelps and turns, giving me an evil look. We were making out the entire elevator ride up from the casino, and my cock is throbbing painfully in my slacks, begging for some relief. While she ended up losing the bet and we won’t be going into a formal scene, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fuck her silly. Her tits have been taunting me all night in that low-cut dress, and all I’ve been able to think about is marking them with my teeth.
She stumbles into my room, not because she’s drunk, but because she’s wearing ridiculously tall heels that she can barely walk in. Scooping her into my arms, I close the door behind us with the heel of my loafer.
I set Morgan down in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, wrapping her in my arms as we take a moment to admire the shimmering lights of the Las Vegas Strip that are illuminating my dark room. It truly is the entertainment capital of the world, and even from floors above, I can feel the energy of the city—it’s intoxicating, but still not as intoxicating as the woman pressed against me.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
“Of course,” she sighs, nuzzling into my chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It makes me feel a deep sense of longing for more between us. I don’t just want to be her friend. Or her lover. I want to also be her partner. I want to give her everything that I could never give someone in the past . . . I know I can give her everything.
“You look stunning,” I murmur into her hair, telling her what’s been on my mind all night.
She inhales sharply, stiffening in my arms. “That’s not what this is.”
Her words cut deep even though I should have known that they were coming. I can feel my pulse escalating as frustration swirls inside my chest. “Why don’t you tell me what this is, then.”
She spins, staring up at me like she can’t decide whether she should say what she wants to say. Her hands reach up to my neck, searing my skin as she begins to unbutton my shirt.
“This is fucking,” she replies, popping the first button open.
She reaches for the second, keeping her eyes glued to mine with rageful defiance. “This is pleasure.”
Pop .
“A transaction.”
Pop.
“An arrangement.”
Pop.
My jaw clenches harder with each button she opens, and I’m fairly certain my molars are going to crack if I don’t do something. I reach out and grab her wrists to stop her from continuing to rub salt in the wound, pushing her hard against the glass window.
Morgan might say that we’re all of those things, but I refuse to accept that she believes it. Not when I saw the way she watched me when women tried to hit on me at the casino bar. Not when I felt the way her body relaxed when I held her in the shower. Not when I heard that she talked about me when I wasn’t around.
We both know she’s full of shit.
Leaning down, I bracket both hands around her head. “Sure it is.”
I don’t know who moves first, but our lips collide in a rough kiss of pure passion, each of us trying to prove a point that the other is refusing to understand.
Her tongue presses into mine, fighting for a dominance that I let her take. Her fingers dig into the collar of my shirt, pulling it down my shoulders. I reach forward and tweak her nipples through the sheer bodice of her tight, black dress. She shudders beneath me, always so sensitive to stimulation there.
Part of me wants to spend all night teasing her, but I stop myself. I let go of her perfect tits and shrug out of my shirt as she moans into my mouth at the loss of contact.
I give her my back and walk toward the freshly made king bed on the other side of the room, trying to get a grip on the tornado of emotion pounding in my chest. Even when she’s pissing me off, I can’t get enough of her—I can’t stop myself from giving in to her.
I take a seat on the mattress and slowly remove my black leather belt. She’s still leaning against the window, her chest heaving from our kiss.
“Go ahead then,” I growl, unbuttoning my pants as my eyes narrow on her body. “Use me. Take out my fucking cock and ride me.”
If Morgan wants to label this as transactional, that’s exactly what it’ll be.
She hesitates briefly before moving, like she isn’t quite sure that she believes the words coming out of my mouth. Every time we’ve hooked up, I’ve been the one in control in one way or another—even when she’s sucking my cock, I’m still guiding her head and setting the pace the way that I prefer. But if she wants me tonight, she’s going to fucking use me.
As she walks over, I pull my wallet out of my pants and remove the single condom I brought for the weekend. I had no idea what the sleeping arrangements were going to be since no details were shared, but I packed one just in case.
Morgan stops between my legs and drags her small hands over my shoulders. Her eyes briefly run over my tattooed arm before she snaps her focus back to me. A tentative smirk forms on her red lips as she flattens her palms on my pecs and pushes.
I fall back onto the bed, lacing my fingers together behind my head. She reaches for my zipper, drawing out the process longer than necessary. Her eyes widen when my cock springs free from my briefs, like she forgot what I was packing. Good—I intend to remind her after I let her have her fun.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek as she rolls the length of the condom down my painfully hard length. My balls instantly draw up, desperate for release when her fingers wrap around my shaft and pump several times.
She shimmies out of her panties and crawls on top of me. Her perfect tits naturally push together with the movement, and I’m trying my hardest to school my face into indifference despite the telltale throb of my cock beneath her.
The heat of her pussy hovers inches above me, testing my restraint. She thinks that I’m going to give in, pull her onto my cock, and take what I need. But I didn’t get where I am today without an exorbitant amount of patience. Nothing can make me falter when I’ve set my mind to something, not even her tantalizingly tight cunt.
She rolls her hips, rubbing her slick arousal along my length. She’s soaking wet, and all it would take is a quick movement to be buried deep inside of her.
Her green eyes flutter closed as she finally notches the crown at her entrance, slowly sinking herself onto my length. She sucks in a pained breath as her body stretches around me, trying to take me to the hilt. This would be the time to reach out and rub her clit, relaxing her through it since this position is deep, but I’m trying to make a point here.
“What’s wrong, little devil?” I taunt, watching her wince as she sinks lower, still not even halfway. “You can’t take my cock? Not quite the same when you’re the one on top, is it? You want me to take over?”
Her eyes fly open, daggers shooting right into my soul. She adjusts herself so that she’s perpendicular to my body, rather than bent above it. She hitches up the hem of her dress to make room for her fingers to slip between her legs.
She takes me deeper, though her pussy fights with every delicious inch, like it knows that what I can give her is better. When she’s finally seated, she gives me a prideful glare that I want to slap right off her smug little face.
All of the blood in my body rushes to my cock as she starts to ride me, just like I told her to. One hand continues to rub her clit as the other reaches up to toy with her nipple over the fabric of her dress. She throws her head back, exposing her delicate throat that doesn’t even have a flush to it.
I have to admit, she puts on one hell of a show. If I didn’t know her body intimately well, I’d assume she was getting close to climax solely from the sexy song coming out of her mouth. They’re needy little whimpers that echo into the quiet expanse of the hotel room, putting a bandage on the truth—that she’s desperate for more.
“Beg for it,” I say, tone low and controlled as my hands finally run up her bare thighs.
Morgan slows her rhythm, her plump lips opening and closing like she can’t decide if she should give in. “What?”
“You heard me.” I dig my fingers into the meaty spot at the crease of her thighs that drives her wild. “Beg for me to take over.”
“How did you—”
I use my grip on her hips to pull her lower onto my cock, a wild sound of pleasure escaping those pretty lips as her inner walls flutter around me, finally satiated. I tug the front of her dress, forcing her to fall forward. Her hands catch on either side of my head, her face millimeters from mine.
“Beg. For. It,” I repeat, spitting every word as I stare into her wide eyes. “Because once I get on top, I’m not going easy on you. You’ll feel me so deep inside that tight cunt that you’ll gasp for air. And every time you open that bratty mouth, you’ll be so breathless that you can’t even speak the word friend .”
“Ugh.” Morgan winces like she’s just taken some sort of nasty medicine. “Fine. I want you to take control. God, I fucking need to come so bad. Please take control.”
Pride swells in my chest, knowing how much she didn’t want to submit but chose to anyway. I pull her closer, pressing my lips to hers in a hungry kiss as I flip us so that I’m on top. My hands slide over her chest, ripping the thin fabric of her dress down the middle to finally expose her flawless tits.
She gasps beneath me when I start moving inside her, her fingers holding onto my shoulders for dear life as I slide halfway out and then push deep inside. I trail dangerous nibbles along her jaw, my hands finding her perky nipples and tugging hard. She screams a little too loud, given our friends are right next door, and a rush of her arousal coats my cock as I pull out again.
My mouth replaces my fingers on her tits, sucking and tormenting her sensitive buds. One hand snakes under her head, threading through her messy hair, and I tug her head back, forcing her lips to part so that I can push three fingers down her throat.
“Suck, little devil. Gag yourself on my fingers while your slutty pussy comes all over my fat cock.”
Morgan’s lips close around my fingers, following my instructions like she was born to be mine. I tighten my grip on her scalp, using her hair for leverage as I hammer back into her, thrusting hard.
“That’s right,” I growl against her skin, feeling her pussy start to flutter. “That’s my good little whore. You’re about to come all over my cock, aren’t you? Come for me. Show me how much you need me.”
My teeth graze her nipple, finally sending her over the edge. A muffled moan ricochets through her throat as her core spasms around my shaft. I grunt, her tight grip on my cock spurring my orgasm and forcing me to erupt in pleasure. But the way her fingernails painfully dig into the skin of my shoulders as she rides out her release reminds me of one thing—she needs more too, even if she won’t admit it.