12. Phoenix #2
Her back presses his chest as she grinds down on him in a move I am pretty sure she picked up from a YouTube video labeled, ‘Stripping for Dummies,’ or ‘How to Make a Man Take You to the VIP Room.’ It looks tedious even to me, and Con looks bored.
“Phoenix,” he barks, and I jump to attention. “Stop standing there like a fucking statue. Come sit with me.”
This is a new development. Curiosity piqued, I push myself off the wall.
The woman he’s with stares daggers at me as I move over to the couch and sit at the far end.
“No, no, come sit with me.” He pats the cushion of the couch right next to him, and I slide over.
“Get on your knees and suck my cock,” he tells the girl on his lap. Her eyes widen for a moment, then she slides off his lap and does as she is told. I stare at Conrad for a moment before turning my gaze to the TV.
Okay, this is awkward. I sit there, uncomfortable and tense, trying to focus on the game Atticus has playing on the massive TV screen instead of the woman swallowing Con’s cock in front of me.
“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart,” he moans. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him slide his hand into her hair and hold her down for a moment before allowing her to continue working his cock with her mouth .
A flush of heat starts low in my belly and works its way up to my cheeks. This is depraved. He’s only doing it to make me uncomfortable. To remind me of everything I gave up.
And dear God, but I wish I could trade places with that girl. I wish I knew what it felt like to be chosen. To have him praise me like that.
I’m trying so hard to keep my attention focused on the TV screen that I startle when Con wraps his other hand in my hair and pulls my head close to his mouth.
“Watch her. Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten how you get off watching another woman suck my cock.”
I say nothing, but my core throbs in response.
With his hand still in my hair, Con turns my face, so I have no choice but to fill my vision with this woman working his cock.
“Do you think you can do that, Phoenix? Do you think you can take all of me like that?”
The girl working his cock lifts off of him with an audible pop, then drags her tongue from the base of his dick up to the head, flicking over the tip and staring into his eyes the entire time.
“Baby, you know she can’t suck you off like I can.”
Rando #124 , I name her mentally. Your momma would be so proud.
“I don’t know about that,” Con says matter-of-factly. “I’ve never had her lips around my cock, but I feel like it’s only a matter of time. So tell me, Phoenix, can you already suck me like that, or are we going to have to train you first?”
The woman cackles, but Con ignores her, staring at me instead as he waits for my answer.
“Probably not,” I shrug, and Rando #124 gives me a cocky grin, like she just won a contest. “I don’t have a bunch of bad lip fillers, so it wouldn’t feel as lumpy, for sure.”
Con throws his head back on a surprised bark of laughter. Rando #124 moves to get up, her face twisting in rage, and for a second I think she is going to strike out at me. Con just shoves her head back down on his cock.
“Firebird,” Maverick calls from the table. “Come play poker with me. We need a fourth. ”
“You already have a fourth,” Con shoots back.
“No, we have three. One girl has already lost and is paying her debt.” I look away from the blow job to see Maverick has four girls around the table.
He is completely dressed, but they are not.
One of the girls is completely naked, and on her knees licking the pussy of a girl who is only wearing a thong and her bra.
The last girl is still wearing her skirt and heels and looking at Maverick like he is her last meal.
I get up from the couch and take the empty seat at the table, waiting as Maverick deals me in. The way he shuffles the cards without looking at them, his attention fixed on me instead, makes my skin tingle.
I hate when he looks at me like that, like he is picturing all the dirty things he wants to do to me. I want him to do those things. Why does he just look at me like that instead of doing it, already? He has to know that I want him to do everything to me, but he hasn’t touched me again.
We play a few hands. I don’t win, but I don’t lose, either.
The other girl at the table casts me a narrow-eyed look with the largest blue eyes I had ever seen.
I feel like telling her she shouldn’t worry about me.
She is absolutely gorgeous. Not only does she have those massive bright blue eyes, but her long dark hair flows like silk down her back, and if I were going to pick a woman for Maverick, it wouldn’t be me. It would be her.
I try to get my head in the game, really not wanting to be naked at this table—or at least not any more than I already am in this tiny dress.
Apparently, the girl sitting across from me has the same thought. She doesn’t want me naked at this table, either, and throws hand after hand, looking at me like she’s winning something with each article of clothing she removes.
The crazy thing is…part of me thinks maybe she did win something when she finally removes the rhinestone thong that was hiding absolutely nothing. I understand why when Maverick gives me an inscrutable look and then picks her up, slinging her over his shoulder to go pay her dues in his room.
He doesn’t even look back.
And it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t .
But watching someone else get carried away, get ruined, get seen—it burns more than I want to admit.
I sit back in my chair and release a shaky breath. Yeah…she won.
If I’m going to go after what I want, I’m going to have to learn how to play the game.
I won’t continue standing on the sidelines.
Next time, they won’t overlook me.
Not because I’ll beg…but because I’ll make them regret every second they didn’t choose me.