Chapter 4
The elevator deposits me onto the casino floor.
I’m a mess. My thighs are slick. I carry Tony’s cologne like a second skin. The new mark on my inner thigh throbs with every step. A secret pulse that only Robert will see.
Heat coils between my legs. I should go home to my husband, but my body isn’t ready to leave yet. Plus, Robert told me to come home broke and I have cash burning a hole in my clutch.
The orgasm Tony gave me is humming through my body. Warm and satisfied. But underneath it there’s an edge. A new hunger.
A hunger with a name: Adrian.
Tony sees me as a prize he’s already won.
Adrian sees me as something to figure out.
I don’t know which one makes me wetter.
God, I’m such a slut. I just fucked Tony and I’m already thinking of another guy.
The poker room draws me in. Players hunched over green felt inside. Faces tense with concentration or desperation.
The host is the same as last time, and he just nods with a small smile playing at his lips.
Do all the employees know who I am now? The woman who ran up a tab she couldn’t pay. The one Tony asked about.
There’s an empty seat at a mid-stakes table. The buy-in is higher than last time. Five hundred minimum.
I buy in and join the game. The other players take in my tousled appearance, and a zing of naughty pleasure makes me smile. Let them look. Let them see the sex-flushed cheeks, the woman who’s practically vibrating in her seat.
Tony’s cum leaks into my panties. I feel the bruise with every shift.
The first hand is dealt.
By the time I’m done here, I’ll owe this place more than money. And that’s exactly what I want.
I’m ready for someone to think I can’t pay again.
The first hand, I bet too high.
The second hand, I stay in when I know I should fold.
By the third hand, I’ve stopped thinking about strategy entirely.
The cards blur in front of me. Kings and queens and numbers that used to mean something back in college. Back when I was the girl who always won at poker. Now I’m the woman who gets fucked in casino offices.
I’m not playing to win. I’m playing for orgasms.
Every chip I push into the center is another small surrender.
Another way of saying yes to whatever this night wants to give me.
The rush of the bet. The sick thrill when I lose.
The way my heart kicks knowing I’m throwing away money that could buy plane tickets, mortgage payments, a semester of someone’s college tuition.
Mrs. Robert Matthews could never play this recklessly.
Whoever I am tonight absolutely would.
The losses pile up. When my chips run out, more appear in front of me without a word exchanged.
I know Tony arranged this. The dealer’s expression stays neutral, but I catch the glances between him and the pit boss hovering at the edge of the room.
They’re watching me spiral. Watching the debt grow.
Probably seen it a hundred times. People chasing a high they can’t name, bleeding money onto the felt.
I don’t stop. Thousands. Gone in less than an hour. I got fucked, yet I’m still craving what I came here for.
I want to owe them more more money than I currently have on me. I think I’m there.
The pit boss approaches. He’s polite, professional, his smile not reaching his eyes.
“Ma’am, we’ll need to settle up before you continue.”
I reach for my clutch. I probably almost have enough cash in there. The ATM can give me the rest. I could end this right now, walk out with nothing but a dent in our savings and a story to tell Robert.
A hand closes around my elbow.
“I’ll handle this.”
It’s Adrian.
His hold is firm, but not painful. The pit boss gives a nod of deference. “Of course, Mr. Cole.”
Adrian doesn’t acknowledge him. His attention is on me.
“Come with me.”
He steers me away from the table, through a door marked STAFF ONLY, down a corridor that smells like industrial cleaner.
We stop at a storage room, and when he opens the door there are metal shelves stacked with boxes. A mop bucket in the corner. The muffled roar of the casino seeps through the thin walls.
This is nothing like Tony’s office. No leather. No skyline. No expensive whiskey on a bar cart.
This is utilitarian. A place where things get handled.
Adrian closes the door behind us. His tone is calm. “Do you want to settle your debt?”
I’m so turned on I can barely breathe. Fuck yes, I want to settle it.
My heart slams against my ribs. “I have money. I can pay.”
“Is that really what you want?” He moves toward me, and I step backward until my shoulders hit the wall.
“Tony and I have an arrangement—“
“Tony’s not here.” Adrian stops inches from me. His eyes give me nothing. “I am.”
“I want it.” Heat floods through me and every inch of me waits for contact.
This. Yes. This is what I hoped for. Maybe not in a storage closet, but sometimes the universe gives you what you need, not what you expect.
“You’re still dripping.” It’s not a question. “Did Tony fuck you that good, or are you that hungry?”
“Both.” The word slips out before I can stop it.
His jaw loosens. Like I’ve passed a test I didn’t know I was taking.
“Turn around.”
I do.
He yanks my dress up over my ass. “Hands on the wall. Don’t move them.”
I flatten my palms against cold concrete as I hear the zipper of his slacks. Oh god, I’m really going to get fucked again. It’s good Robert said I could do whatever I want.
“You didn’t leave.” His voice rumbles behind me. “Tony said I’d find you gambling. Said you were the type.”
“What type?”
“The type who needs to be treated like a slut. Your husband probably can’t fuck you hard enough.”
He’s wrong. Robert can fuck me hard, but he can’t make me feel cheap like this does. I keep the thought to myself and moan as he palms my wet panties.
I hear him exhale. Maybe the first crack in his control. Maybe proof I’m not the only one affected by this.
“You’re the type who gets off on being used by men who aren’t her husband.”
“My husband knows—“
“Does he?” Adrian’s fingers push my panties aside. “Does he know you’re in a storage room right now, about to get fucked by a man you just met?”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer because he’s right.
Robert knows about Tony. He doesn’t know about this. He probably doesn’t imagine me pressed against a concrete wall with a stranger’s fingers sliding through my pussy lips.
“Does your husband know what a whore he married?”
The word sends a shock through my system, and a ripple of pleasure runs from my fingertips to my toes.
It fits. Fits like something I’ve been missing without knowing it had a name.
“Yes.” My voice comes out wrecked. “He knows. He loves it.”
Adrian laughs. Short, humorless. “Then he’s just as fucked up as we are, because knowing you’re married just makes this hotter.”
He drives into me without warning. I cry out. His palm clamps over my mouth. He’s thick—so thick—and for a second I hang there. Impaled. Forgetting how to breathe.
“Quiet.” His hips move. Hard. “Unless you want the whole casino to hear what a hungry whore you are.”
The pace he sets is relentless. Each stroke shoves me into the concrete. His other hand digs crescents into my hip. More marks to bring home to Robert.
“This what you wanted?” His tone is controlled as he fucks me like he’s trying to break me. “You come here to lose thousands of dollars so someone will fuck you and use you?”
“Yes.” The word is muffled against his palm.
“Say it again.”
“Yes. Please. I wanted this.”
“Wanted what? Be specific.”
My mind scrambles for words. “I wanted to be used. Wanted someone to look at me and see—“ I gasp as he hits a spot that whites out my vision. “See what I really—”
“What?”
“A whore.” The confession tears out of me in fragments. “A bored—hungry—slut who can’t stop—“ Another deep plunge almost makes me lose the thread. ”—thinking about this. About being fucked by men who aren’t—oh god.”
The pleasure builds and my thighs are shaking. My nails scrape against concrete. My whole body is straining toward the edge.
Adrian pulls out.
I make a sound I don’t recognize. Half sob, half animal. I rock backward, but there’s nothing there.
“Turn around. Get on your knees.”
I turn. My legs almost give out, and I sink to the floor awkwardly in my heels. The concrete bites into my knees, and I look up at him.
He’s stroking himself slowly. Watching me with that assessing expression.
“Open your mouth.”
I do. Wider than I need to. My tongue is out, waiting. I close my eyes instinctively.
I hear the wet sound of him speeding up his hand until he groans. Hot stripes across my cheek and lips. The warmth drips down my skin. I lick my lips, tasting salt and musk.
When I open my eyes, he’s gazing down at me, an unmistakable glint of triumph in his expression as he tucks himself into his slacks and buckles his belt.
“Next time,” he says calmly, “I might let you come.”
He retrieves a box of tissues from a nearby shelf.
“Clean yourself up. And Shannon?” He opens the door and pauses as I blink at him. “You coming isn’t a guarantee. I want you to think about that.”
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me kneeling on the storage room floor.
My clit throbs in protest of the denied orgasm. Every heartbeat makes it worse. I press my thighs together and the friction is a tease. A reminder of how close I was.
I’ve never been left like this. Wound tight enough to scream.
I’ve never been more turned on in my life.
I use the tissues to clean my face, and all I can think about is how badly I need to orgasm. Holy fuck. My body is one exposed wire, sparking at nothing.
This was probably the point.
Tony gave me what I wanted. Adrian made me want more.