Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
DEUCE
I trudge up the stairs with one thing on my mind: getting into bed, putting the bullshit of the day behind me, and keeping my focus in front of me. I don’t even glance at Sammie’s door or stop to listen like I usually do.
Nope, tomorrow is a new day. A day that would be about working on the bar and finally making a permanent home for The Kings of Atlantic City.
When I enter my room, I eye the bottle of Jack in the kitchen, then keep walking into my bedroom. The booze would put me right to sleep, but then I’d be up two hours later with a head full of cobwebs.
I strip off my cut and my t-shirt along with the smell of the Royal Flush and the stripper’s cheap perfume. I take a piss, wash my hands, then crawl between the sheets, looking forward to passing out till morning.
An hour later, I’m still staring at the fuckin’ ceiling.
At first, my brain outlined my projects for tomorrow, then it ventured into the supposed hidden treasure we never found somewhere in the walls or floors of the bar.
Must’ve been total bullshit, ‘cause we ripped that place down to the rafters and there was nothing.
Sammie said her father was a dreamer, so maybe this was just another one of his wishful thinking fantasies.
Of course, my traitorous thoughts then shifted to the beautiful brunette only a thin wall away.
No, no, and fuck no, ‘cause that isn’t happening now or anytime in the near future or distant future.
SAMMIE
My heartbeat finally slowed after my undercover activities, then my brain did a mental rundown of everything I read on the flash drive.
An hour later, I still can’t fathom it. My father working undercover?
My father working for the DEA? The man who made crime his lifestyle.
The man who took the easy way out all day, every day.
That is a sobering thought. All these years, I’d loved my father with constraint.
Knowing what he was about, or thinking I knew what he was about, only to find out different.
I wondered if my mother knew about his journey into subterfuge?
Looks like he isn’t the man I believed him to be, or he was and changed his ways to save me.
I toss, turn and twist, but sleep will not come. Then I hear it: Deuce’s heavy-booted feet, only this time they pass my door without stopping even for a minute. Good. I’m way too vulnerable right now, and who knows what I’d disclose if he stopped at my door or worse—knocked.
DEUCE
I must be the biggest fuckin’ asshole in all of AC, ‘cause right now I’m standing barefoot and shirtless with my jeans zipped but not buttoned, and my fist cocked and ready to knock on the door of a woman who can send my life straight to hell.
I want to hate her, or at least avoid her, but I can’t. I don’t know why I can’t, but for the first time in my life, I understand true addiction. The kind of gut-wrenching, all-consuming need in the pit of my gut. A longing so deep and powerful, it makes me weak from the inside out.
I knock twice, then almost pray she’s sound asleep and won’t hear me.
Almost.
Ten seconds later, I hear movement, and my heart jacks up at an annoying level.
She opens the door wide without asking who it is, like she knows it’s me, then stands perfectly still.
Bare feet, tight little booty shorts sculpting her perfect ass, and another super-thin tank top.
So thin, I can see the outline of her nipples, hard and rigid.
Her hair is tousled around her shoulders, and the way she’s biting her bottom lip and staring up at me with those big, ebony eyes has my cock raging.
I slide through the door, slam it behind me, then push her against it, taking her lips in a savage kiss. Open mouth, with lots of tongue, like I can’t wait to taste her. She gives back everything I dish out, holding me close like it’s not enough.
I break the kiss, and her eyes widen in anticipation, then I spin her around and plant her palms on the door.
I grab on to the waistband of her shorts, yank them down her legs, then kick her feet apart, spreading her wide, her ass cheeks jiggling with the sudden movement.
I palm her hips, then slap her ass hard enough to make her yelp.
When she smiles at me over her shoulder, I slap the other side harder.
This time she moans. One of those little, deep moans I love.
I tear at the zipper of my jeans ‘cause, yeah, my cock is just aching to be squeezed by that plump ass.
I reach around and dip my fingers in her heat.
Wet and juicy just like I expect. I tease her clit, then cover my cock with her juices before sliding my length in between those luscious mounds.
I pump my hips, and she moans again, pushing back against me, letting me know how much she needs me too.
When I can’t take it any longer, I grab a condom out of my jeans pocket, sheath myself, then anchor my arm around her waist, lifting her until I’m notched right where I wanna be.
Not quite in, but close enough to drive her fuckin’ crazy.
I tease her with my tip until she’s writhing and moaning, her hips moving with every dip of my cock.
When the beautiful pain is unbearable, I pull back, lift her hips higher, then spread her center with my fingers and dive in, all the way in.
She’s so wet and hot, I’m balls-deep, looking to get deeper.
She arches her back, giving me better access as she braces herself against the door, bucking from behind, keeping up with everything I got.
Fuck, between the angle and her tight snatch, my cock is pulsing hard. When she screams out and shudders, her body milks me from root to tip, and I know I’m close. I jackhammer into her once, twice, then I blow apart, filling her up and never wanting this to end.
I brace my palms just over hers on the door, our ragged breaths filling the silent room. When I finally have the strength, I pull out, but she stays facing the door. She pulls up her shorts, then wraps her fist around the doorknob and opens the door. Without a word, she steps aside.
I tuck my dick, condom and all, in my jeans, zip up and leave. It’s not till I’m back in my room that I realize she basically just threw me out. Then I convince myself it’s better that way.
I head for the bathroom, take a quick shower, and this time, when I collapse into bed, I fall asleep immediately.
SAMMIE
I close the door behind Deuce, then lean against it. What in the holy hell of outlaw bikers was that? My body is still humming, and my brain is still spinning when I get out of the shower.
Talk about crazy monkey sex. We didn’t utter one word; we just went with our bodies and, wow, what a body. He lifted me and held me with ease like I weighed nothing. He instinctively knew exactly what we both needed and wanted, then took it.
I towel off, put on another pair of sleep shorts and t-shirt, then crawl under the covers. Unlike earlier, I fall straight to sleep.
The next morning, I wake, hating the delicious ache between my legs. Hating how much I longed for Deuce last night, and absolutely despising how I hope he visits me again tonight.
My body vibrates from Deuce’s skills, but the new day also brings new anxiety about yesterday’s discovery. I have no intentions of telling Deuce about the money, but the flash drive is another issue. Especially if it could help him take Viper and the Dogs down.
Even though the DEA didn’t use the information, there is plenty of recordings and incriminating evidence to use as leverage with the threat of exposure, as my father said in his note.
He also said to keep it a secret, using it only as a tool against Viper.
Somehow, Viper must’ve suspected or actually found out about my father’s dealings with the DEA, making him understandably paranoid.
After another shower to insure the musky, potent scent of Deuce was down the drain, I dress, and enter the newly appointed kitchen downstairs.
I had the foresight to document everything on my phone, but the transformation is truly amazing.
Shiny steel appliances, all up to code, working walk-in refrigeration, and, of course, a garbage disposal.
My heart kicks up half a beat when I visualize the black plastic bag under my bed, but now I’m being paranoid.
There is no way anybody knows about its contents. Even Fist thought it was garbage.
I stay in the kitchen for the rest of the day, organizing and setting it up how I want it because, after the bar is up and running, we’ll open the kitchen.
Nothing extravagant, just good comfort bar food made right.
I already have a few ideas about the menu, and since I always enjoyed cooking, I hope I’m up to the challenge.
Of course, we’ll hire waitresses and kitchen help, but with simple, good food, people will stay longer and drink more.
I haven’t seen Deuce all day. I know he’s in the building because a few times, I heard his raspy tones.
I can’t help wondering if he’s avoiding me, or if I’m just projecting.
Either way, better we let last night stay where it belongs.
A moment of weakness that both of us gave in to—and will never happen again.
DEUCE
The next morning, I feel pretty fuckin’ good, and that bothers the shit outta me. Probably the first night I slept good since Viper worked me over. No need to examine why I slept so good. Nope, not going there.
Heavy labor consumes my mind and body for the rest of the day. Perfect. I haven’t seen Sammie, but I know she’s in the kitchen. Don’t ask me how I know; I just fuckin’ do. Like some sensory shit where I can feel her before I see her.
Fuckin’ nuts.
Scratch spends the entire day over at the Royal Flush sorting shit out with Jack. Getting the passcodes and going over liquor invoices. We all know strip clubs are a huge moneymaker if they’re run right—and Scratch runs them with an iron fist.
No drugs in the club, no dancers using during working hours, and no fuckin’ in the champagne rooms. Bouncers stay in the room with the girls at all times.
This prevents getting busted for prostitution and a shitload of other charges, plus it ensures the women who work for us are top-notch.
Not worn-out junkies spreading their legs and looking to score their next hit.
Bouncers even walk the girls to their cars at closing, ‘cause some guys are pervs.
Bringing the Royal Flush up to those standards would take a little time, but in the end, it would be worth it with an increased cover charge for drinks that aren’t watered down and women who aren’t half out of it.
By the end of the day, I’m beat, and after grabbing a burger and fries at the diner with Ace and Speed, we head over to the Royal Flush. Scratch and I go over some invoices and boring office bullshit. We toast the new ownership at the bar, and then I head back to The End.
Tonight, I pass Sammie’s door without a second glance, enter my room, strip down, shower, then flip on the TV.
So what? She’s in the next room. Doesn’t mean shit to me ‘cause I have way too much on my mind for distractions. And she’s a big fuckin’ distraction.