Chapter 25
I have no idea how long I stand there, mouth opening and closing like I'm some kind of land-based fish. It must be too long, though, because eventually Jax's wicked smirk fades.
"Hey. I mean—"
Cayden interrupts. "Haley's a wicked artist. She could do portraits."
"I'm not that good," I promise, finally finding my words again.
"Sure," Jax said, even though it's clear that art was not what he meant.
"Kisses," I blurt out. Because that's cute, right? I'm not offering sex for a poker match, but kisses seem both sexy and…safe.
The sound of a bunch of uncomfortable swallowing and shuffling greets me.
"What?" I ask. "Any of you have somebody else who's been offering you those?"
Jax rolls his eyes, "Well, actually…"
"No one we want to accept them from, that's sure," Deandre says. "Sounds like a fair form of currency to me."
"Well?" I ask.
Jax holds up his hands. "If the D-man says it's okay, then it's okay by me."
"Great." I smile tightly, then lean forward and pluck a chip from his hands, then spin it between my fingers.
I have no problem kissing any of these guys. Not even Jax, though there'd probably be more teeth involved.
But that isn't the point. I know something they don't.
Namely, that Richard was a card shark, and he left me with some emotional scars. But he also left me with a pretty good knack for playing the odds.
And I really like mine, right now.
A few minutes later, I'm seated at the table with my stack of chips. Adam is by my side, still messing around with the cards.
I hold out my hand. "Want me to deal?"
"Okaaay…"
There are some muted chuckles, but I take the deck and give it a couple of quick, efficient shuffles, then offer it to Cayden to cut. He does so, a smile tugging at his lips like he's got an idea about what these boys have just gotten themselves into.
"You guys like to pretend you're from Texas?" I ask.
Deandre chuckles, catching on, too. "Sure do."
I put on my best fake accent and straighten an imaginary hat. "All righty then."
I don't bother with fancy tricks. I just flick the cards out, one after another, nearly too fast to see. Once they each have two, I turn to Adam, then Sergio. "Big blind, little blind. Jax, you paying to see the flop?"
For a second, everything is silence.
Then Deandre says, low and slow, "I don't know, girlie. You might be too damn rich for my blood."
Jax, the ass, doesn't even look at his cards. He throws in two blue chips. "Not mine."
His eyes flash with a challenge.
Bring. It. On.
From there, we play some damn poker. I do okay, holding my own.
It's clear that the guys have been playing forever, though.
They all know each other's tells, whereas I can only guess.
Even though I'm making all the right moves, statistically, my stack of chips starts to dwindle before anyone else's.
Finally, we hit a hand where I have no choice. I've got the cards. "All in."
I shove in the last of my remaining stack. A chorus of oooh s goes up around the table.
It's just me and Cayden at that point. He nods. "I'll see you."
He adds in the requisite chips, and at that point, there's nothing to do but show my hand.
"Flush, jack high."
His brows rise. Jackpot.
But before I can get too triumphant, he snaps out a hand to cover my own. "Not so fast."
Shit.
I cringe when he shows his own cards. Same damn flush, only he's got the king.
"Damn," Deandre says, respect in his voice, and yeah. The odds of that were vanishingly small.
I slump back in my seat, wiped out. I huff theatrically. "Guess I'm done for the night."
I'm pissed about it, too. That was fun . We're all drinking, but just enough to get loose—not enough to be stupid. The game is fast paced, and everyone is pretty good. It feels like I'm one of the guys, and I liked it.
But then Jax smirks. "Not necessarily. Just need another buy in."
Oh.
Oh.
I sit up straight again. They didn't make me pay upfront for my stake, but it's clear from the expression on his face that the house isn't extending any more lines of credit without a down payment.
"Is that so?"
"Sure is. You wanna go to the bank"—he points to himself—"or someone else?"
Cayden is right there, looking inviting, and after wiping me out, he does have an awfully big stack of chips.
I tilt my head to the side and bat my lashes at him. "What do you say?"
He pretends to deliberate, then grins, low and wide. "Why not?"
He opens his arms, but I do him one better. If I really want the fake money, I better earn it after all. With everyone watching, I climb into his lap, and oh. Wow.
He's half hard beneath me, just from the thought of a stolen kiss. His gaze connects with mine, then darts to the side.
Or maybe—maybe it's not the stolen kiss turning him on. Maybe it's the audience.
I flash back in my mind to the moment he walked in on me and Deandre fucking in the workshop. The lack of jealousy had bordered on hunger, and maybe he likes this. A bit of a voyeur, a bit of an exhibitionist.
Funny. My panties are a little wetter than they were when we started this. Maybe I kinda like it, too.
That maybe part flies right out the window as I place my hands to either side of his face and bring my lips to his.
The kiss is wet and sexy right off the bat, and it only gets moreso as a couple of appreciative whistles fire off around us.
A thrill hums through me, and I grind down just once, rubbing myself across the bulge in his jeans and seeing sparks.
I have half a mind to keep going, but the night is still young. I pull away with regret, sucking on his lower lip, then letting go of it with a pop. My chest rises and falls with the force of my breath. Holy crap, I'm turned on.
I hide it the best I can, though. "So. That worth a couple of chips?"
Cayden's eyes smolder. "A couple."
"Good."
I spin myself off his lap, helping myself to two of his red ones—a tiny fraction of his stack but a sizable portion of his fortune.
Deandre laughs. "Girl's got balls."
"Eggs, actually," I quip. I hold my hard-earned chips out to Jax. "You mind making change?"
He swaps the chips out for smaller denominations, and then the game is back on.
Only there's a different undercurrent to it now, a charged sexual energy. Anticipation sits heavy on the air.
It—and the hand Cayden places high on my thigh beneath the table—steal my focus, and it shows.
I'm still playing well, all told, but throw a little bad luck into the mix, along with the advantages of familiarity that the guys all have, and my stack doesn't last long.
This time, when I run out, I turn to Adam. "Can you spare a few?"
His throat bobs. "For you? Sure."
I rise from my chair again. Cayden lets me go, but not without a little slap to my rear that makes my pussy tingle. When I move to sit on Adam's lap, I do it side saddle, afraid things will get out of hand too quickly if I spread my legs for him already.
I'm not wrong. He hauls me in, exploring my mouth with his tongue, and it's not the easy familiarity of kissing Cayden, but it's still comfortable. Our connection from my first morning here sings in my heated blood.
When I pull away, I take another two chips, and I lose them nearly as fast.
Deandre slides his chair back the next time, opening his broad arms in invitation. "You need some sugar, little girl?"
Oh, hell. Apparently we're playing our game in front of everyone. My pussy clenches, hot, around nothing, because, yeah. Some sugar sounds really, really good right now.
As coy as I can, I tease my bottom lip with my finger, looking down and eyeing him from beneath my lashes. "Yes, please, Daddy."
"Then you come right on over here."
I move to stand. He stops me. "I think my little girl can crawl."
Oh, hell. Oh fucking, shit-damn hell.
My heart races as I slink off my chair and onto my hands and knees.
I don't require any additional clarification.
I make my way under the table toward him, slipping past the others' feet.
When I emerge on the other side, I place my hands on his knees and pull myself up his body.
I let my lips graze over every inch of him I pass, almost but not quite kissing the line of his cock through his jeans, his abs, his hard, strong chest.
And then I'm there. His big hands dip to meet me, and he pulls me up, forcing me to sit astride him. Flashes of our first time in his workshop assault me, making me wetter and more desperate. I remember sitting on that huge, glorious cock—the way it split me open and made me feel so, so good.
It hard to keep it PG-13 as his mouth possesses mine. I'm not entirely sure why I try. His hot palms grip my hips, moving me against him, and we're still wearing our clothes, but we had might as well be fucking, right here at this table, right in front of his friends.
The only sound is the wet slide of our mouths and the little, panting noises I make every time he rocks me over that delicious bulge in his pants.
He skims his hands higher, slipping them under my shirt.
Their heat bleeds into my skin, and when he cups my breasts through my shirt, I groan, my nipples hardening.
Except then his hands retreat back down to my hips. His mouth pulls away, and I try to chase it, but he holds me in place. My eyelids flutter open to find his lips wet, his gaze dark.
From behind me, Sergio lets out a low whistle. Jax chimes in, "Pretty sure that was worth three."
"Damn straight," Deandre says.
Holy shit, I got so caught up in that kiss that I almost forgot that we were playing. I slide off Deandre's lap and take my money. He swats at my ass as I turn to head back to my seat—walking this time, thank you very much.
As I go, Sergio raises a brow at me. His words from a couple of nights ago ring out in my head.
If you wanted me to touch you, you would let me know.
He's still the only one in the house who basically hasn't had his hands on me, and it's definitely, definitely time for that to change.
The game has shifted now. I'm not trying as hard to win, and the guys are working harder to strip me of my earnings, and no one's really bothering to pretend otherwise.
Sergio is the one to take my last chip from me, and anticipation hums through me.
"Oops," I say, all false disappointment. "Looks like I'm out again." I gaze at him heatedly.
"You trying to tell me something?" he asks.
"Sure am." I take the most seductive walk of my life around the table, then stand in front of him.
Except instead of letting me climb into his lap, he stands, holding his hand out. I place my palm in his, and he jerks me into him.
His mouth collides with mine, and yeah—oh, yeah.
He tastes like the bitter beer he's been sipping and like sex and tightly coiled restraint.
He's shorter than the other guys, but that doesn't matter.
He bends me back with the force of his kiss.
He takes a step into me, and the next thing I know, my ass hits the edge of the poker table.
Skating his hands up and down my sides, he lifts me up onto it, parting my legs to stand between them.
He's hard as he slots himself in against me.
We're flush, and all the desire that's been building inside me since the game changed from Texas holdem to 'Hold Haley Against Me' threatens to ignite.
With a hand on my thigh, he hooks my leg over his hip and grinds in deep.
And oh— fuck , I'm going to come. Right here and now, without anyone even touching my pussy, from nothing more than a kiss and a little dry humping. I close my eyes, ready to give in to it.
Only to be left hanging.
Sergio pulls away, breathing ragged and lips wet. He puts a finger to my mouth, gently nudging it closed, and I swallow hard. Low and husky, he says, "You want to come? You're going to do it with my cock in you."
And damn. Just…damn.
I do want to come—desperately. But there's awkward shuffling around us. No matter how bad I want it, I'm not quite ready to get fucked in front of all these people. Not yet.
I lick my lips and hop off the table, taking four chips for my trouble. "Can't wait."
It's a supreme effort to walk back around the table without my resolve crumbling.
I'm achy and hot between my legs, and my nipples feel like they could cut glass.
My skin feels like it's stretched too tight.
I'm on a hair trigger. If anyone so much as touched my clit I'd fly into a million pieces, but for now I have to keep it together. I have to.
Because there's one person left who has yet to buy my kiss, and he's the one I have so many conflicted feelings about.
Before I can let anyone fuck me against a table, we have got to sort out our shit.
As Jax's hot, gray gaze connects with mine, it's clear. He's on the same page.
And we have about five more hands of poker before our time to make decisions runs out.