Chapter 21
Bex
“ L ady, this isn’t what I ordered!” some old man calls after me, seconds after I handed him a bourbon and ginger—without a tip, mind you.
Turning back to him, I pop my hip and hold my tray close to my chest. “I’m so sorry about that. What can I get you to drink?” My tone is heavy with false sincerity, a talent you really have to master if you want to make it on the floor.
The man thrusts his drink toward me and rolls his eyes. “I asked for a bourbon and ginger, so bring me a bourbon and ginger. And none of that bottom shelf shit, either.”
Having been serving on casino floors for the last few years, I like to think I have pretty thick skin. But this man’s attitude, the dramatic eye roll, insistence that the drink he’s handing back to me isn’t the drink he ordered, combined with the fact that I’m ready to clock out and go home… I have to swallow hard to keep my emotions in check.
“Of course. I’ll be right back,” I say, taking the drink from him. Of course, his attention is once again lost to his slot machine, so I stalk away without another word.
I walk all the way back to the server’s station, place the drink down, and focus on my breathing. Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale slowly for eight. I’m nearly through my exhale when Carlos sidles up. He reaches for the glass, but I wave him off.
At his questioning expression, I say, “Asshole says I brought him the wrong drink.”
“Ah,” Carlos nods, wiping his hands in a bar towel. “And?”
“And I didn’t. So, I’m going to ask you to put a lime in this drink so I can bring it back to him. All freshened up and shit.”
Carlos laughs, flips open the lid for the garnish, and places a lime wedge just inside the glass for me. “I hate assholes like that. And,” he glances down at his watch, “aren’t you off now?”
“As soon as I deliver this drink back to that prick,” I say, picking up the drink. Turning sharply, intending to march back to that man with a bit of attitude, I gasp. I almost ran straight into a broad, muscular chest which belongs to—
“Mr. Blackwood!” I say, bringing both of my hands up to hold the glass.
“Bex,” he says kindly. “I thought I told you to call me Aaron?” His dark hair is shaggier than I’ve ever seen it, and it drapes over his eye in a way that most women would find incredibly sexy. Paired with the expensive looking gray suit and crisp white button down, Aaron is attracting the kinds of looks that I most often experience when I’m out with Corey .
I glance around the casino floor, wide-eyed. “I’d feel more comfortable if I called you Mr. Blackwood, especially while I’m still on the clock.”
Aaron brushes the hair off his face with a large hand, then glances at his watch. “Aren’t you off now?”
First Carlos, now Aaron. Yes, I should be off now, but I have to deal with a prick first.
“Just one last drink to deliver,” I say, holding up the drink.
“Okay,” he says, putting his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I’ll wait here for you.”
What is going on? Immediately, my mind goes to Corey, and I wonder if he’s okay. Our call last night was awkward, to say the least, and I get the distinct impression that something’s bothering him. But no matter what I try, whether it’s on our calls or in our texts, he insists everything is fine. It doesn’t feel fine—it feels… distant.
As I approach the cranky old man, he barely looks at me before he reaches a hand out for his drink. He lifts it to his lips and holds out a finger, indicating he wants me to wait, but I shake my head. “I’m off the clock now, buddy. If you don’t like what you ordered, just own up to it next time.”
Annoyance flashes in this guy’s eyes, but I’ve already spun on my heel in the direction of the staff room. I’m not sure if Aaron wanted me to meet him back at the bar or the staff room, but I’m hoping he’s in the staff room. There’s nothing worse than technically being “off” the clock but getting caught by customers with requests all because you lingered on the floor.
I punch the code for the staff room with some unnecessary force, then slam the door open, nearly catching Aaron on the other side.
“Whoa,” he says .
“Jesus, fuck, I’m so sorry, Mr. Blackwood!” I cover my mouth with my hands. Could this day really get any more irritating?
“Bex, I’m fine. Honestly. I’m sorry; you seem to be having a bad day.” He says this as a statement and not a question, so I simply nod.
I make my way across the space to the timeclock on the wall. As I punch in my ID number to clock out, I glance back at Aaron. “Definitely not having the best day,” I say, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s really okay. Look, I was hoping to talk to you about something. Do you have a few minutes?”
My heart begins to race. “Is this about Corey?”
“What? No. Well, sort of,” he says, laughing. Aaron is always so serious when I see him here at the casino. Sure, I’ve seen him smile occasionally, but he’s not known for being the laughing, joking type. That’s his brother, Drew. Hearing him laugh gives me a feeling I can only describe as warm and fuzzy. “Corey mentioned something about the youth center art show.”
My pulse instantly goes from pounding concern for Corey to annoyance. “What did he say, exactly?”
The door bangs open—apparently a theme today—and Marla rushes in. She’s at least ten minutes late and her uniform is haphazard. She smiles at me as I step away from the time clock to give her space. “Bitch, where have you been?”
“We have opposite shifts this week, remember?” I say, while desperately giving her a side eye look so she can see who I’m speaking with.
“Those fuckers. Night shifts suck without y—” Marla cuts off suddenly as she takes in the tall man next to me. “Shit. Fuck,” she says, her cheeks heating. “So sorry, Mr. Blackwood.”
“All good, Marla,” Aaron says as he squints at her nametag. “Just having a quick chat with Bex here. ”
“And I’m late. I’m so sorry. Let me just throw my shit in my locker and I’ll leave you both to it.”
Aaron turns his attention back to me. “What was I saying?” I ask.
He smiles. “Corey mentioned the youth center art show.”
“Ah. Well, that was nice of him? I guess? There’s nothing planned yet. And honestly, maybe not at all. It’s…” I trail off, not wanting to discuss how financially challenged the youth center is. And definitely not how I can’t afford to front the money for the show myself.
“I get it. When Drew and I were growing up, we had a similar center in our hometown. They had one computer that Drew and I used to fight over using. It was just nice to be out of our house for a bit.” A darkness passes over his gaze as he mentally hops back to the past, but it quickly disappears.
“That’s exactly it,” I say, nodding. “The center doesn’t really have a budget for something like an art show, so we sort of make do with what we can.” I cringe at my words. I really don’t want my boss (or is it my boss’ boss’ boss?) to think I’m pandering for money.
“Right. Corey mentioned that, too. Look, I would love to collaborate with you on something for the center. An art show, for sure, but maybe some sort of local fundraising event?”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Mr.—”
“Bex, I swear to god, if you call me Mr. Blackwood one more time…” he says, grinning. “Before you tell me no, just think about it, please?”
I take a deep breath and collect myself. I will not argue with my billionaire boss, not in the staff room where anyone could potentially overhear us. “Okay.”
“Now that the casino is really up and running successfully, it’s time to focus on our local initiatives,” Aaron explains. “And if I can combine those initiatives with support for my friend… well, why the fuck not? ”
“That’s incredibly generous of you… Aaron,” I say, testing his name on my tongue. It feels strange, but he’s one of Corey’s best friends. I can’t call him Mr. Blackwood in social settings.
“Think about it some more. We’ll find time to chat about the details in the next few weeks?”
Nodding, I say, “Sounds good. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Aaron says, shifting toward the staff door. “Now I’ll let you get the fuck out of here. Sorry for keeping you.”
“Not a problem.”
“Oh, and Bex?” Aaron asks as I turn toward the ladies’ locker room.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I saw my friend this happy. It’s all because of you.”
A knot of emotion pushes up my throat, and I swallow hard against it. “I’m the lucky one.”
“I think you both are,” Aaron says before softly opening the staff door and heading back to the floor.
Traffic was terrible getting away from the Strip, so by the time I made it home and grabbed a few bites of a sandwich, it was time for my video chat with Corey. I ensured my bedroom door was locked and my noise-canceling headphones were properly turned on and ready before my phone began to buzz.
Swiping to answer it, I barely manage a hello before Corey appears on the screen. He’s wearing boxer briefs, and he’s pacing .
“Bex, baby, I need you to get naked for me. Right now.”
A rush of arousal sweeps through me, but it’s met with some concern. “Corey, what’s going on?”
He stops pacing and sets his phone down on something. “I’m having… a really horrible fucking week,” he says.
There’s a tug on my heart at his words and the strained look on his face. “Babe, I’m more than happy to get naked for you,” I say. “But tell me, what’s going on?”
Corey runs a hand through his hair, and I swear I can feel his stress radiating through the phone. “It’s just shit with work. I shouldn’t let it get to me like this, but…”
I nod, taking off my headphones for a moment so I can slip my shirt off over my head. Placing the headphones back securely on my ears, I say, “I get it.”
Corey leans closer to the phone, sighing. “Fuck, Bex. Take off your bra, please.”
It’s really a bralette, but I don’t have to take off my headphones to get it off–-I stretch the material up over my head and toss the garment to the ground. Corey groans and the sound sends a hypnotic pulse to my clit.
“I wish I were there, Bex. I’d take those beautiful tits in my hands, suck on those pretty pink nipples,” Corey growls. He adjusts his phone again, and I can see he’s lying down on an unfamiliar couch.
“Where are you, Corey?”
“Not important,” he says, fisting his hard cock through his briefs. “Scoot back, I want to see you take off your panties.”
I forget all about my curiosity when he speaks. Directing me this way is fucking hot. I’ve always known Corey has more dominant tendencies, but this is the first time I’m following his orders. By the time I slip off my shorts and panties, my pussy is wet. Not as wet as I would be if Corey were actually here, but it’s just enough.
Corey pulls out his hard, thick length, and I might as well be drooling. I move my right hand down, dragging my fingers through my wet heat before circling my clit with my pointer finger.
“Fuck, Bex. I want to taste you so bad. Do that for me, baby. Bring those fingers to your lips and taste yourself.”
I do as he asks, sucking on each finger and releasing them with a pop.
“Tell me how you taste, Bex.”
“So sweet, Corey,” I moan. “I wish it was your fingers, though. You can reach that spot inside me that no one else can.” Corey says nothing, but he groans. It’s true—Corey’s hands are large and strong, and he is the only person I have ever been with who’s found that magic spot. The one that makes me orgasm so hard, I see stars.
I’m hypnotized, watching him stroke his cock, alternating between hard, aggressive and softer, drawn out strokes. I try to match the same pace with my fingers, but my hand begins to cramp and I let out a whine of frustration because I just can’t reach that spot.
“Bex, look at me.” My eyes flutter open to see Corey sitting up, his strokes paused. “Do you still have that black box?”
My eyes widen, and I understand what Corey’s asking me to do. “Corey… do you want to watch me fuck myself with your cock?”
“More than anything,” he moans. He resumes his stroking as I reach over the edge of my bed for the matte black box that I tucked away weeks ago. After Corey visited me in Vegas just over a week ago, I took the toy out of the box to wash it, just in case I felt compelled to play with Corey, without Corey .
But I’m still shocked when I pull the silicone toy from the box, despite having had the real thing. It’s nearly a perfect match in length, girth, and even the prominent veins running along each side.
“Put your tongue on my cock, Bex. Show me how you use that mouth like a good girl.”
My ears are full of Corey’s moans, the slick sounds of his strokes, his whispered praise, and my hands are full—literally—with Corey’s replica dick. I need both of my hands to hold the hefty toy. I let go of the desire to look sexy while doing this; I can barely fit the first few inches in my mouth before I gag. Definitely something easier about going down on the real thing.
“Corey, I need to feel you inside me. Now .” My hips have been writhing against nothing, and my clit is aching for some friction.
“Move a bit, first,” Corey bites out. “Lean back on your elbows, to the left, and spread those legs to the right, beautiful. I want to see your face when you slide that thick toy inside of you.”
Fuck me, who knew director Corey would be so fucking hot? I spread my legs, looking at myself in the little preview box on the screen to make sure Corey has the best view. Damn, I really need to upgrade to a tablet or something.
I drag the dildo down my front, between my breasts and over the soft mound of my stomach, before running it over my pussy. I’ve gone from wet to dripping in a matter of ten minutes. Something about sharing this moment with Corey–that I’ll be fucking myself with a replica of his perfect cock–it’s beyond carnal and wicked.
“Tap your clit with my dick before you slide it inside of you,” Corey growls.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan as I comply, tapping my clit with the tip of the toy once, twice, before slowly sliding it inside of me .
“That’s it, Bex. Nice and slow for me, baby. You’re doing so well . ” Corey’s praise sends shivers through my body. Once all eight inches are inside me and I am stretched to a sinful fullness, Corey begins to pant heavily.
“Corey,” I moan. “How should I fuck myself? What do you want to see, sir?”
“God dammit, Bex. Just like this. Fuck,” Corey grunts. His strokes are hard and fast, and I know I won’t possibly be able to keep up with that pace. Corey wants to see it hard, so I slide the dildo out almost the entire way before slamming it back inside of me.
“Fuck, Corey,” I say as I hit that spot again and again. “You feel so fucking good.”
“I’m close, Bex,” Corey groans.
“I’m almost there,” I moan.
The screen of my phone looks fuzzy; it’s hard to focus on watching Corey and on the precipice of pleasure coiling down below. I need something to push me over the edge, something—”
“Turn it, Bex,” Corey says, panting heavily. He’s sitting up closer to his phone, and I can see how close he is by the prominence of the veins on his shaft.
“What?” I ask, breathlessly.
“Turn the toy,” he says, biting his lip.
As I begin to twist the dildo inside of me, I wonder why he’s given me this instruction but then, “Holy shit, Corey. I’m coming!”
By turning the dildo upside down, the silicone balls slam against my clit with every thrust. It only takes a few thrusts before I hurtle into the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had with a toy. I ride the waves of my orgasm, endless waves that seem to ebb between strong and stronger, and glance at my phone in time to see Corey erupt .
“Bex, fuck!” he cries out as ropes of thick, white come coat his chest and hand.
I roll onto my side, the dildo slipping out of my messy, wet cunt with ease. Corey drops his head back on the couch behind him, and I bite my lip, taking in his muscled, sated form. His chest heaves as he comes down from his release, his cock, still thick, laying across his stomach, twitching. Corey Brooks is the picture of post-orgasmic euphoria.
“Bex, that was… that was a first for me,” Corey says, his voice low.
“Really?” I ask incredulously.
“That was one of the hottest fucking experiences in my life—including my entire career.”
My cheeks flame with heat, and I nod in agreement. “I don’t have quite the same experience as you,” I say, “but I have to admit… it was incredibly erotic having you direct me, sir.”
Corey’s cock twitches at the word “sir” and he whines, “Have mercy on me, baby.”
We both laugh as our breathing returns to somewhat normal.
There’s a knock on Corey’s end of the line, and he sits up quickly, a brief expression of panic crossing his face. “Shit, I have to go.”
I sit up and wrap my arms across my chest and midsection. “Where are you?”
“Work,” Corey answers, blushing. “This was pretty risky but, fuck, Bex. You’re always worth it.” He picks up his phone with his clean left hand and holds it closer to his face. “I love… I loved doing this with you.”
A swoop of butterfly wings flutters through my stomach, and I’m not sure if it feels good or just unsettling.
“I loved this, too, Corey. I hope you have a good night.”
“Goodnight, Bex.” Corey gives me a devastatingly charming smirk before ending the call .
And somehow, even though tonight’s call was infinitely better than last night’s, I feel at a loss with whatever is truly going on with Corey.