CHAPTER 9
QUINCY
I’ve never been more distracted while playing cards than I am right now. The tournament has been going on for a little while now, but I’m ready to walk away from the table completely. Not because it hasn’t been going well for me—I’ve more than held my own—but because I can hardly sit still.
Not with Hawkins watching me, his eyes filled with heat.
I look over at Aaron as I fold my hand, the cards not on my side when I already know who is holding the winning hand at the table. It’s not me. It’s not Aaron either, but I’m not surprised when he calls to see the river.
I’m more than a little annoyed with Aaron and I being at the same table in the first place.
It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Kenneth had something to do with it.
He probably isn’t even trying to make a dig; I doubt he remembers the whole fake dating thing being floated since it was years ago.
Kenneth might be self-serving, but I’ve never known him to be malicious.
I take a sip of my water and watch the hand play out, Aaron bowing out before putting any more chips into the pot. When he meets my gaze, he smirks slightly.
“You know,” he starts, his voice warm in a way it always is when the cameras are pointed toward him, “you’re a better player than I thought you’d be, Quincy.”
The smile I flash him is sweet, but it’s fake as fuck. From the way his eyes flash before he puts in the big blind, he can see the warning behind it. I’m not surprised when he ignores it.
“You’re exactly the player I knew you’d be,” I tell him, my voice innocent which allows for interpretation as to how I mean my words.
I swear I hear Hawkins snort, but I ignore him. His eyes boring into me are distracting enough.
“Where’d you learn to play? I learned in movie trailers between takes and scenes,” he doesn’t wait for me to ask him the same or answer, his voice casual.
As much as I want to roll my eyes, I hold myself back. I straighten my shoulders before glancing at my hole cards, knowing I can use my hand to go after Aaron in the only way that matters—by taking down the pot.
“I learned from my dad. He loves card games, any of them really, but he had a special love for poker and hearts. The man loves to shoot the moon,” I joke and chuckle softly. I know he doesn’t really care; he’s just trying to get his own story out there.
Well, the world can have mine too. I’m sure as fuck not ashamed of where I came from or the memories of a time when life was simpler.
You can simplify things now. Leave it all behind.
My heart stutters in my chest for a second as the thought slams into me. My eyes flick to where Hawkins is sitting. I find him already watching me; I knew he would be. I could feel his eyes on me.
I’ve been turned on since I sat down at the table. My panties are fucking ruined.
And if this doesn’t end soon, I might combust.
I swallow hard and wonder if I really could leave it all behind.
Maybe.
Maybe I could.
I focus back on the cards, raising when it’s my turn. Surprise flickers across Aaron’s face, but he doesn’t back down. The turn gives me what I need, and I know the pair Aaron is hoping to turn into trips isn’t going to go his way. I can feel it.
He goes all in, his ego is too big to let him walk away to go in on a better hand, and I take down the pot. With him being taken out, the tournament for the day is over. I take a deep breath as I realize I just guaranteed my seat at the final table.
We sit until it’s announced that we’re clear, since the whole thing is being televised. Aaron stands up and stretches, but my eyes flick to Hawkins and hold. His blue eyes are smoldering with a cold fire I desperately want to experience up close and personal.
Someone quickly comes by and collects the microphone clipped to me. I offer the frazzled production assistant a smile, but I don’t think she even notices.
I startle slightly as Aaron slides into the seat next to me, a smile on his face which has me eyeing him warily. “I have to say, I don’t like losing, but you make the experience kind of enjoyable.”
My face scrunches up before I can stop it and he blinks in surprise. I guess that is what happens when you’re used to women falling over themselves to get closer to you. But that’s not me and it never will be.
I thought we already covered this, but apparently Aaron Holt is persistent. Or maybe he’s just that self-centered.
“Aaron,” my voice is placating, “I’ve already made myself clear. I’m not interested.”
He flashes me his all-American grin, the one that has opened doors for him and probably dropped more panties than I care to think about. But it’s not going to work on me, it never would. Even if Hawkins hadn’t burst into my life it would still be true.
I point toward Hawkins who is now standing with his legs braced a shoulder-width apart and his arms crossed over his chest, and murmur, “He’s waiting on me. We have plans.”
Aaron’s eyes ping-pong between my biker and me a few times before he shakes his head slightly. His mouth opens and closes, like he’s not sure what to say, but then he just closes it and nods once. “Right, well, enjoy the final table. I know you’ll kick some ass.”
Then he stands up and strides away. In the opposite direction of a certain biker. The same biker whose eyes are following Aaron very closely. I can’t help but grin and stand up slowly.
Hawkins’ eyes snap back to me and then move slowly down my body and back up. That fire is back in his blue eyes, and it does something delicious to me. If I add a little extra sway to my hips as I walk toward him, he certainly doesn’t complain.
No, my biker has no fucking shame. He reaches down and adjusts himself without looking away. It’s sexy as hell and a shiver works its way up my spine. I don’t bother looking for Miles or anyone else. I simply walk off the stage, my hand slipping into the calloused hand belonging to my biker.
Because he offers it to me without reservation while looking at me expectantly.
Yeah, there’s no way I’m letting this man down when it feels like every time he reaches for me, he’s giving me a little piece of his soul.
From what he’s mentioned about his past, about the way he grew up, he should be a festering ball of anger who refuses to open up to anyone about anything. But that’s not the man in front of me. He pulls me closer to him, his hand sliding down my spine like he’s memorizing the way I feel.
“Missed you, Hollywood,” he murmurs the words like a gift.
“You were watching me the entire time,” I point out while smiling up at him.
“Not the same as having you in my arms,” he grumbles with a small pout on his face.
It’s fucking adorable.
When I giggle softly, his blue eyes soften. He closes the distance between us, kissing me while not giving a fuck about who could be watching us. Or taking pictures.
As his lips soften when he presses them against mine, I can’t find it in me to care. Even though I probably should.
I’m tired of living my life for my career, for my image. I have enough money and while I enjoy acting, I need more in this life. More than the small life I’ve been living even though most people would assume it’s big and lavish.
But that’s not me. It never was.
It never will be.
“Take me out of here,” I breathe against Hawkins’ mouth. “I need to get this dress off and into something more comfortable,” I add with a groan, “and I need to take these shoes off.”
“I’d be more than happy to carry you out of here, Hollywood, you just say the word.”
My heart melts with his offer, which I have no doubt is sincere, but I think it might be too much fodder for whoever is taking pictures of us right now. Leaving together is going to be more than enough as it is.
“I can make it upstairs,” I tease him.
One side of his mouth quirks up, the smirk devastating in the best of ways. “I just like you in my arms, Quincy. I’m not going to apologize for it.”
My fingers play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “I’m not asking you too, but I can walk. These aren’t even the worst shoes I’ve ever warn.”
He looks down at my shoes and when he looks back at me, his eyes are half-mast. “You gotta stop talking about the fuck-me heels you’re wearing right now. You have no idea how tempted I am to bend you over the table and fuck you right here.”
A shiver works its way over my body, and I bite my lip to stop the moan wanting to escape. The hunger in my biker’s eyes does something to me.
Sure, I probably should be putting up more of a fight. He’s young. We’re so different. How we met isn’t exactly a story most people would want to tell for years to come.
But everything in me is screaming to let this man build his world around me.
Hawkins’ palm is warm as he touches the small of my back and leads me through the people still milling about. I’m stopped a few times for autographs and pictures. I smile through every interaction and give every fan my full attention.
I wouldn’t have a career if people weren’t willing to spend their hard-earned money on my movies. I’m very aware of how much that matters. I’ve never been one to take it for granted.
Hawkins doesn’t try and rush the process. He simply stands by my side and lets me do my thing. If he’s at all annoyed by it, he doesn’t show it.
And I can feel his eyes on me the entire time.
As if I wasn’t already turned on.
When we finally break through the last of the people waiting for a moment of my time, we head straight toward the elevators. As we pass a restaurant, Hawkins eyes me and slows his pace.
“You hungry, Hollywood?”
I can see the challenge in his eyes, and it makes a giddy feeling bubble up in my belly.
“I’m starving,” I tell him, my tone dramatic, as I turn toward him slightly.
When his face falls, I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. I bet big, bad bikers don’t like being called cute.
I keep that little thought to myself. For now.
“But not for food,” I add while gripping his hand and tugging him along toward the elevator.
I swear the ride up to my floor takes forever. But then I’m bursting through the hotel room door and Hawkins is right there with me. His eyes widen when I push him back against the door, but I know I wouldn’t be able to move him letting me get away with it.
With slow movements I sink down to my knees and Hawkins makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. He rasps, “What are you doing?”
I look up at him from underneath my lashes, my words teasing as I reach for his belt, “I would think it’s obvious, Mr. Biker.”
He groans, his fingers sliding into my hair and pulling it back to ensure he has a good view. One side of my mouth curls up in a smirk as I pull his jeans and boxer briefs down over his hips. When his cock springs free, my mouth fucking waters and I lick my lips.
“Fuck, Quincy,” his voice is pained. “Seeing you on your knees for me is one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.” When I arch an eyebrow and wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft, he lets out a sinister chuckle. “Since I met you, I’ve been witnessing a lot of sexy things.”
Pleasure spreads through me with his words. I look up at him and take in his wide blue eyes. I slide the crown of his cock back and forth over my bottom lip, loving the way his fingers clench the strands of my hair even tighter.
“You can’t tease me,” he grunts. “Your perfect mouth is too fucking close to my dick for you to tease me now.”
My tongue flicks out over the head, and I let out a moan when I taste his pre-cum. He growls softly and his hips jolt when I part my lips and suck him into my mouth. I relax my jaw as I start to bob up and down his length.
The feeling of his shaft twitching in my hand as I pump in time with my mouth is addictive. I watch, fascinated, as his jaw clenches and his gaze turns fucking molten.
I watch every reaction, every breath, every shudder. Learning what gives my man the most pleasure is incredibly sexy.
Far too quickly, he’s pulling me back, my mouth making a wet slurping sound as his cock bobs in front of my face. I try to lean forward to suck him back inside, but Hawkins holds me back.
I look up at him, about to ask him what gives, when he growls, “As much as I want to watch you swallow down every drop of my cum, I need to be inside of your sweet pussy.”
With a small whimper, he hauls me to my feet and carries me over to the bed. He strips me quickly, not that there’s much for him to peel from my body, before he turns me toward the bed and slaps my ass. “Hands and knees, Hollywood.”
The sinful temptation in his voice, the way his words rumble over my skin, has me scrambling to comply. When I’m in front of him on the bed, my arms already trembling from anticipation, I can almost feel Hawkins taking a deep breath behind me.
I hear the rustle of his clothing and then the heat of his body washes over me. He doesn’t just grip my hips. He drapes his large frame over me.
As the crown of his cock slides through my wet pussy lips, I try to angle my hips just right, but he’s there holding me in place. Right where he wants me.
“Say it,” he growls against the shell of my ear.
“I’m yours,” I pant the words, feeling them to the depth of my soul.
“Damn fucking right you are,” he sounds feral. It only makes me wetter for him. “And I’m yours,” he promises.
I don’t get the chance to say anything as he fills me with one brutal thrust, and I’m rocked forward with the force of it. But he’s right there, solid, and holding me steady.
Hawkins pounds into me, claiming me, marking me as his. Every thrust makes it feel like I’m floating higher and higher. It’s dizzying.
It’s maddening.
When we come, it’s together with our names being whispered with a reverence which gives me just a little bit more hope.
Hope for the life I want.
Hope for a future which leaves me room to grow in a way that has nothing to do with fame.
Hope to find peace.
As I float down from my orgasmic high, my mind is blank and my heart is full.
Leave it all behind.
It’s not the first time I’ve yearned to make the thought into reality, but it is the first time I think I might have found where I belong.