by HELEN HARDT
Bailey downed the rum punch the bartender set before her. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“You mean…now?”
“Of course, now, silly. It’s nine o’clock. Casino night started an hour ago. We’re already late.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “You’ll be the death of me.” She stood. “Let’s go, then.”
They walked around the edge of the resort to the Jamaican Restaurant, where the second floor party room housed Casino Night for the evening. Greeting them at the door were a man in a black tuxedo and a woman in a floor length red gown.
“Do you think we’re dressed appropriately?” Lisa nudged Bailey.
“We’ll see, I guess. Worst they can do is kick us out.”
But the couple looked them both over and let them in. At a desk inside, another man in a tux gave them each two hundred dollars worth of chips.
“These are good at the blackjack and roulette tables,” the man said in a thick French accent. “If you can turn them into three hundred dollars you’ll be very happy.” He winked.
“What the hell did that mean?” Lisa asked as they walked into the dimly lit casino.
“I’m sure we’ll find out,” Bailey replied.
They ambled through the crowds. Lisa took in the array of different styles of dress. Some people were dressed formally, like the couple at the door. Others were dressed a little less so, much like Lisa and Bailey. Still others wore leather, chains, and rubber. Her skin tightened.
“Rubber can’t possibly be comfortable in this humidity,” she said under her breath.
“What?” Bailey asked.
“Nothing.”
Bailey’s head swiveled, and Lisa followed her friend’s gaze. Blackjack against the walls. And a couple roulette tables.
“Hmm. I prefer Texas Hold ’Em myself,” Bailey said.
“They don’t have that here, Bay.”
“I suppose we’ll make do. What do you want to try? Blackjack?”
Lisa shook her head. “Not my game. I don’t think I’ll play.”
“Aw, come on, Lis.” Bailey grabbed her arm and pulled. “You’ve got free chips and everything. We’ll start with roulette, then. Will that work for you?”
“Uh, sure. I guess.” What the heck? She did have chips.
They walked toward one of the less crowded tables. Lisa’s gaze fell on the dealer, and her pulse fluttered.
Ace.
In a tux.
He’d shed his jacket, and the crisp white shirt provided a delicious contrast to his coffee skin.
Oh. My. God.
He eyed her and beamed. Warmth crept along her flesh. She backed away, but Bailey grasped her hand and tugged her forward.
“Chips, ladies?” Ace’s voice was as husky and sensual as it had been earlier. More so even, with the added smoky and erotic ambiance of the casino.
“Yeah, we have chips.” Bailey set hers on the edge of the table.
Lisa stood, numb.
“Come on, Lis.” Bailey took the chips from her hand and set them down beside her own.
Ace handed them each a different colored chip. When his fingers grazed her palm as he handed her the dark pink chip, a jolt of sexual energy rippled through her. Had he felt it, too? She lifted her gaze to his as his fingers slid slowly away. His sexy half-smile contained a spark of mischievous lust.
A moment later, he was back to business. “Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen,” Ace said as he spun the roulette wheel.
Lisa placed her pink chip on the number 21.
“Lis.” Bailey grabbed her arm. “That’s a straight bet. You’re going to lose all your money. Try an outside bet.” She placed her blue chip on the part of the table that said “Second 12.”
“Twenty-one is my lucky number. I want to bet on that.”
“Twenty-one’s your lucky number, but Blackjack isn’t your game?” Bailey shook her head. “You don’t make any sense sometimes, girlfriend.”
Lisa said nothing. Bailey had a point. Twenty-one wasn’t her lucky number. She’d set her chip down on a whim.
“It’s a long shot,” Bailey continued. “There are thirty-eight slots. You only have a one in thirty-eight chance of winning.”
“I don’t care.” Okay, maybe she did care. But she’d never played roulette before and she didn’t know the rules. She didn’t want to look like a complete moron in front of Ace.
“Have it your way.” Bailey rolled her eyes.
Ace spun a small white ball around the perimeter of the roulette wheel. The counterclockwise movement of the wheel, combined with the clockwise roll of the ball, seduced Lisa. Her gaze never faltered, and when the wheel slowed and the centrifugal force lightened, Lisa’s heart sped up. Twenty-one. Come on, twenty-one. The numbers blurred together, and when the wheel slowed to the point that Lisa could actually read them, she saw twenty pass and gasped, and then realized the numbers were not in chronological order. Indeed, twenty-one was on a red background, sandwiched between thirty-three and six, both on black. Was there no rhyme or reason to this? Purely a game of chance. Bailey was right. She had fucked up. Majorly. There went her chips. She looked away from the table, wondering what to do now. Especially if Bailey ended up with a mittful of chips. Maybe she’d give Lisa a few.
“Twenty-one.”
Ace’s sexy voice slid over Lisa’s body, heating her. She looked up and locked onto his dark gaze.
“That’s your number, pretty Lisa.”
“Lisa!” Bailey pulled on her arm. “It pays thirty-five to one!”
Ace chuckled. “In a real casino, yes. Tonight, as long as you win, you double your chips. No matter where you place your bet.”
“That means you win too. Right, Bay?”
“Yeah. And I should win two to one. This is an outrage.”
“You should play again,” Ace said, his smile something out of heaven itself. “See how your luck holds out.”
“Are you crazy?” Bailey gathered her winnings. “That was pure dumb luck. Roulette is a sucker bet. Where do we cash in?”
Ace’s grin faded, and he cocked his head toward the back of the room. “Over there.”
What was wrong? Ace didn’t look pleased. And Lisa didn’t want to leave him. She could look at him all night. In a tux. Out of a tux. “Bay—”
“Come on, Lis.” Bailey dragged her to the darkened cove Ace had indicated. “What in the world?” Bailey’s clench on Lisa’s arm tightened. “Oh, my God.”
“What is it?”
“This is unreal. Look.” Bailey pointed to the wall.
Gracing it were photos of some very good looking people. “Yeah. So?”
“You need glasses,” Bailey said. “Can’t you read what’s under those photos?”
Lisa inched closer, focusing on a picture of a blond woman with big hair and big boobs. Underneath the photo, Lisa read, “Dena will give a blow job for three hundred dollars in chips.”
Lisa’s heart dropped to her stomach. Seriously? She quickly scanned the rest of the wall. Apparently Dena was not alone. Elle was willing to go down on a man or a woman for a mere three hundred fifty in chips. Dietrich would lick a pussy for five hundred and fuck a woman for six hundred. For only two hundred more, he’d do a guy.
Lisa’s pulse raced as she scanned through the photos and information. What was she looking for? Her skin chilled as she realized exactly what she sought. Ace. But his photo wasn’t on the wall. He was an employee of the resort, of course. These other people were no doubt part of Soleil Erotique. And what would she do if Ace were on the wall, anyway? Pay him four hundred in fake chips to lick her cunt? No fucking way. She’d die of embarrassment first.
“Damn, look at this stud,” Bailey was saying. “Michel. He’s French, of course, and those lips look like lethal weapons.”
Lisa darted her gaze to the photo Bailey was ogling. Michel was indeed a stud. Long black hair, dark eyes, a chiseled jaw line, and luscious full lips.
“Only four hundred in chips for him to go do
wn on you, Lis. You have that in your grubby little hands.”
Lisa couldn’t deny the thought intrigued her. But no way. “Why don’t you take him, Bay? He’s more your type, anyway.”
“You know I like blonds. Besides, I have something a little different in mind.”
“Like?”
“Promise you won’t freak out?”
“Uh, if I were going to freak out about this place, I think I would have done it by now. What are you talking about?”
“Elle.”
“What about her?”
“She’ll go down on a woman. I want to try it.”
Lisa jerked her head around.
“I think you just did a three-sixty like Linda Blair in The Exorcist,” Bailey said.
“Sorry. You want to do it with a woman?”
“No, I don’t want to do it with a woman. I want a woman to lick me. Down there. I’ve always wondered what it would be like. If it would feel different. Now’s my chance.”
Granted, Elle was beautiful. And blond, which was Bay’s preference. But… “You’re kidding, right? You want Elle over studly Michel?”
Bailey giggled shakily. “Just for tonight. Yeah, I think I do. So Michel is all yours, pal.”
“That’s a generous offer, Bay, but I’m thinking no. Besides, I have to wonder why these people are doing this. They’re all attractive. Clearly, they don’t need to offer their services in this way.”
“Don’t you know anything about Soleil Erotique?”
“Why in hell would I know anything about them?”
Bailey laughed. “Good point. I looked them up online. This is what they do. They enjoy it. Sex with lots of people. Soleil Erotique is French for erotic sun. Some of them are couples and are monogamous, but the majority of them enjoy sex with many. This is a way for them to meet new people and have a broader sexual experience.”
Lisa found herself nodding. Was this actually making sense? She scanned the wall again, but no one could hold a candle to the handsome Michel. Why so cheap? Four hundred to lick a stranger’s pussy? Some of the others were charging twice that. Perhaps he really enjoyed eating cunt. And if he enjoyed it…he was probably really good at it. Damn, she hadn’t had sex in a long time. And her last boyfriend hadn’t enjoyed oral sex. Giving it, that is. He’d liked it just fine on the receiving end. Bastard. Still…
“I don’t know, Bay. I mean, we don’t know these people. They could have diseases.”
Bailey scoffed. “You’re not going to fuck him, Lisa. You’re going to lie there while he licks your pussy. Just make sure he doesn’t have a cold sore and you’re good to go.”
Good point. But… “I don’t think so.”
“Have it your own way. But I’m going for it.” She strode to a desk in a dark corner where an auburn-haired young woman was helping people turn in their chips.
Lisa couldn’t help but follow.
“May I help you, ladies?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” Bailey said. “We…uh…I would like to cash in my chips.”
Lisa stifled a giggle. Cash in her chips, indeed.
“What’s your pleasure this evening?”
“Uh…”
Lisa warmed as Bailey blushed. Her uninhibited friend was embarrassed. Had this day truly come?
She rushed to Bailey’s side. “Elle,” Lisa said. “My friend wants Elle.”
“Good choice,” the woman said, smiling. “Follow me.” She led Bailey through a door.
Within a few minutes, she returned. “And you?”
“Nothing.” “I see you’ve got chips in your hand,” the woman said. “Isn’t there someone who struck your fancy?”
Yeah. The roulette dealer. But that wasn’t happening. “I’m afraid not.”
“This could be a night to live out a fantasy. These people enjoy what they do. It isn’t work for them. It’s fun. And it will be fun for you, too.”
Fun? Try completely mortifying. She shook her head. “No thanks.”
The leggy redhead stood and walked around the desk to face Lisa. “This is Pleasure Cove,” she said in a low voice, almost a whisper. “Anything goes here. Isn’t there something we can offer you?”
Ace. On a platter. Lisa cleared her throat. “Michel?”
The woman’s dimpled smile lit up her face. “Michel. Quite a looker, that one. And very good at eating pussy.”
Lisa looked at her feet. Nope. No hole to swallow her up. Too bad.
“In fact,” the redhead continued, “that’s all he does on these nights. He doesn’t fuck anyone. He just eats as much pussy as he can. You might say he’s insatiable. I never knew a guy who loved pussy as much as Michel.”
Okay, I get the point. He likes pussy. You can stop talking now.
“Shall I set you up?”
Lisa stared at her. “What?”
“With Michel. You’re just his type, too.”
“I am?”
“Oh, yeah. He likes them tall. And you have great legs.”
Oh, geez. “I…I…”
“I understand. Come with me. I’m Drew, by the way.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just to the back. Your friend’s back there.”
“Hey, I definitely don’t want to intrude on whatever she’s doing.”
“Oh, we won’t. Don’t worry.” Drew led Lisa to a small room containing a king-sized bed. “Wait here.”
“For what?”
“For Michel, of course.”
“But I—”
Drew giggled and closed the door behind Lisa. Now what? Was she supposed to undress from the waist down? She rolled her eyes. It was like getting a pelvic exam. All the room needed was the stirrups. A bottle of rum and several shot glasses sat on a table next to the bed. A little drink might be just what she needed right now. She hastily poured herself a shot of rum and downed it. Then another. The alcohol burned the inside of her mouth and coated her throat with warmth. Better. Much better. Now, what to do?
Why not go for it? Heck, she’d been walking around the resort nearly naked for two days. It’s not like anyone would see something he hadn’t already seen. She disrobed and folded her clothes neatly on a chair. Then she lay down on the bed.
And felt entirely exposed.
So she got under the covers. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm as she waited for Michel. After what seemed like an hour, the door creaked open.
“Lisa?” A husky, French-accented voice greeted her.
“Y-Yeah. I’m Lisa.”
“I am Michel.” He walked forward and held out his hand.
Even in the dim room, he was gorgeous. His photo hadn’t done him justice. Too bad he was vanilla and she was craving chocolate.
“Uh, look, Michel. I’ve been thinking…”
“I understand. This is new to you. Do not worry. I promise you will enjoy yourself.” He opened the drawer of the table where the rum sat and pulled out a silky scarf.
Nope. Not going there. “If your intention is to gag me or blindfold me, think again.”
“I would never gag you, chérie. I want to hear you scream my name. But I will cover your eyes. It will make you more comfortable.”
He had a point. Plus, if she couldn’t see, she could imagine anyone was licking her pussy. A dark head covered in dreads. A perfectly sculpted coffee-colored face with lips to die for. “Okay. I’ll wear the blindfold.”
He leaned over her and gently tied it around her eyes. The silk was cool and soft against her skin.
“Now”—his voice was soothing, hypnotic—“let me see that gorgeous pussy.”
A whoosh of warm air crept over her flesh as Michel drew the cover down. A subtle creak echoed. The door? Couldn’t be. Where would Michel be going? Whispers. Then a hushed giggle met her ears. A feminine giggle. Was it Bailey? In the other room? Funny, now that her eyes were covered, her ears were much more sensitive. Another voice, masculine this time, murmured in French.
“Michel?” she said tentatively.
/> “Shh,” he said and plucked a nipple.
It hardened instantly and she strained forward. Wanting more. His mouth. But he wasn’t interested in her nipples. Michel wanted pussy. Well, she could oblige. She spread her legs wide.
“Mmm.” His hum dripped with need. With want.
Would he speak? Or would he get right to business? His fingers grazed the inside of her thighs, and then he parted her folds. She jerked, grabbing hold of the bed sheets to steady her reaction. Right down to business. His tongue slithered lazily in and out of her slick folds. God, it felt good. She hadn’t had her pussy licked in a long, long time. She was well overdue. Ripe enough to fall off the vine. The slick sensation of his mouth and lips suckling her labia had her bucking, straining for climax. She breathed deeply.
Steady, Lisa. Don’t blow it yet.
Too late. She shattered, and icy hot spasms started in her pussy and spread throughout the rest of her, taking her on a flight she hadn’t experienced in what seemed like forever. She savored the rapture, moaning, her breath coming in rapid puffs. When she came down, Michel’s fingers were stroking her inner walls.
She stiffened. His ministrations felt wonderful, but she had come in about two seconds. She must look really desperate. “Michel, I…”
“Shh,” he said, and then his mouth was on her again.
She gasped as he buried his face in her wet pussy, still sensitive from her climax. Though she couldn’t see what he was doing, she imagined his teeth scraping her as he bit at her labia, his tongue gliding around her juicy folds, his lips kissing her clit, and then sucking it. She trembled, writhing, and clenched her thighs around his head and neck.
His hair scratched the delicate skin of her inner thighs, and she quivered. Something blunt—the pad of his thumb?— tickled her clit as his tongue thrust inside her. Tingles shot through her. His tongue was so hot, so firm, her pussy sensitive and quivering from her climax. She thrust her hips in tandem with him, taking his tongue deep. When he replaced his tongue with a finger—or was it two?—and sucked her swollen nub between his warm lips, she burst again.
Damn. Drew was right. This man was a pussy-ating champion. She floated downward, the slurping sounds of Michel’s mouth on her folds echoing in her ears. Again, he finger fucked her as he sucked her clit, massaging her G-spot and bringing her back to earth.