Wild Aces

by Marni Mann

  A similar situation had happened once before. It was in our early days, and it was the reason we’d figured out how to strengthen our methods of researching the sellers. We couldn’t afford for it to happen again. But now, it had.

  I didn’t believe in mistakes when it came to this business.

  I had trained Adrianna not to believe in them either. She knew better than anyone what was at stake here. She had lived it…through me.

  I hailed a cab and climbed into the backseat and gave the driver the address to Aced. Then I texted Adrianna.

  Me: I’ll be there in a few hours.

  Adrianna: I’m sorry.

  I knew this was destroying her. And I knew she was up for this. She was as invested as me. But she was able to feel the work we did while I buried my emotions so deep, I couldn’t have found them with an excavator.

  Me: I know. Me, too.

  “That’ll be fifteen dollars and seventy-five cents,” the cab driver said.

  I dropped a twenty on the front seat, rushed out of the cab, and cut down the side alley. I didn’t want to deal with all the bullshit that would be going on in the front lounge tonight—the players talking game, the girls looking to score, the waitresses all wishing me good luck in Vegas. I needed to talk to Roman, and then I needed to get the hell out of there.

  I punched my code into the back door security system and used both keys in the double-lock. Then I knocked on Roman’s door at the end of the hallway. “It’s me.”

  “Get in here.” He looked me over when I stepped inside. “What are you all dressed up for? It sure as shit ain’t gonna help your game play.”

  “I just came from a party, and I’m not playing tonight. Just came in to talk to you.”

  “That explains the outfit. But it doesn’t explain the glitter all over your mouth.”

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. There was a smear of lip gloss smudged over my skin.

  “Who’d you fuck tonight, Trapper? What’s her name?”

  “Does it matter?”

  He sat upright. “You’re not one of the guys who likes to get his cock wet the night before a tournament. You keep it in your pants and stay focused…so, yeah, it fucking matters. Who is she?”

  “Someone I met at the party. Her name is Brea.”

  “Oh, hell.” He picked up his office phone. “Darlin’, have one of the girls bring me two Crowns. One with ice. Make them both doubles.”

  “Bringing out the hard stuff?” I asked as he hung up.

  “She has a name. She’s not just some girl. That’s different for you.” He was right. “We could both use some hard stuff, I think.”

  I looked down at the glitter on the back of my hand. I liked seeing the remnants of her mouth on my skin. I imagined the same shimmering streaks running down the length of my dick.

  “She has my number, too,” I said.

  “Christ.” Roman checked the monitor when there was a knock at the door. “Cover your mouth, lover boy. Drama’s about to walk in,” he said. Then he yelled, “Come in!”

  Shay’s scent hit me as soon as the door opened. It was the last fucking scent I wanted to smell tonight, and she was the last fucking person I wanted to see. I kept my eyes on her as she walked across the room, too unpredictable to ignore. She’d dyed her hair since we’d broken up. It was now cherry-red, and she had too much dark makeup around her eyes.

  “Set ’em over here, darlin’,” Roman said.

  She carried the glasses to Roman’s desk and set one in front of each of us—mine with ice, his neat. Her muddy eyes were focused on me the whole time. There were other girls at Aced who had been on their knees, looking up at me with a dark-rimmed gaze, eyes I’d never seen without a pound of makeup cluttering them. But I’d seen Shay’s bare and closed while her head rested on my pillow. I’d seen them filled with tears when I told her it was over between us. Now, I was seeing them angry and sullen. I’d hoped she’d find another job, so I wouldn’t have to see them again.

  Apparently, she hadn’t.

  She set her ass on the edge of Roman’s desk, resting the tray over her stomach. She pointed at my mouth. “Nice glitter.”

  I wiped it again with the back of my hand. I didn’t need this shit tonight.

  She laughed. “The color looked real nice on you,” she said. “You should have left it.”

  “Don’t start, Shay.”

  “I’m not starting anything,” she said, smiling. “I’m delivering your drinks, like my boss asked me to.” Sarcasm couldn’t hide what was in her eyes or her fake smile or the texts she sent every few days. She wanted me back. She made that known every chance she got.

  Roman reclined in his chair, crossing his shoes over his desk, like he was watching some goddamn match. Shay was known for fighting dirty, and when she was done, she liked to cool off with my cock.

  “You’ve done your job,” I said, knowing if I didn’t end this now, she would try to start a fight. But I wasn’t going to fight with her tonight, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to fuck her. Shay and I were done. “Now, you can see yourself out.”

  Her lip curled, and she dropped the tray to her side, so she could push out those fake tits of hers—tits I hadn’t wanted her to get, but I’d still paid for.

  She stepped away from the desk and paused at my side, leaning in and whispering, “I know you miss my pussy. No bitch out there can fuck you like I can. Glitter it up all you want, but you’ll come back to me.” She moved her hand to my chest, but I caught it before it could go any further. “That’s it, baby, grab me harder.” I released her, knowing where she was going with this. “You know how rough I like it.” Her hand slid down the back of her shorts, tracing the crack of her ass.

  “Get out, Shay.”

  She huffed, making sure her tits grazed the side of my shoulder as she walked by, and slammed the door.

  “You need to fire her,” I said, running my aggravated fingers through my hair.

  “Can’t. She’s good, and good around here is hard to find. Plus, the players like her…even more now that they know she’s available.”

  “She’s only staying here to make my life hell.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  I didn’t want to drink anything hard tonight. But the Crown tasted good, and the burn left a calming wake as it moved down my throat.

  “You know I’ve had my share of crazy ones,” Roman continued. “They fuck so good. That’s why we keep them around. That’s also why we always go back to them.”

  “I’m not going back.”

  “Girls like Shay don’t take no for an answer. They go down kicking and screaming.”

  Shay’s pussy had consumed my mind in the past, but it wasn’t something I needed to be reminded of, and it definitely wasn’t something I’d ever be inside of again. Good pussy wasn’t enough to keep me around.

  I set the glass on his desk. “Keep fucking Victor’s wife, and you’re going to find yourself in the same mess.”

  Roman laughed. “Don’t I know it. But I can’t fight off pussy like you. When the little bitch speaks to me, I come running. And I run coming.”

  I leaned back in my chair and laughed. Roman hadn’t been faithful to his wife since I’d known him, but he gave her everything she wanted, and he was a devoted father.

  “At your age, it’s a good thing you haven’t lost your hearing.”

  “Pussy is the one thing I can hear.” The only times he smiled this hard were when I won tournaments and when we talked about sex. “You hit that shit at the party? Don’t tell me it was her cunt that was covered in that glossy glitter.”

  I told Roman just about everything—the girls I’d fucked around with at Aced, the ones I met outside the club. Things with me didn’t usually stop at just kissing. But if I told him that was all we’d done, he’d start with the questions.

  I wasn’t up for questions tonight.

  “I’ve been watching the tapes from one of the tournaments,” I said, deciding it was t
ime to change the subject. “Baylor’s more reckless than I thought. If he’s buying his way in, like you said, he’s got to be hungry for some solid action and more calculated with his bets. Or he’s just stupid.”

  Roman lifted his feet off the desk and held the tumbler to his lips. “I see how you’re playing this. Subbing pussy play for card play. Here’s what I’ll do…” He looked at the monitor that sat next to his computer, his eyes telling me what I could already guess. “I’ll give you a break from the Brea interrogation but only because we have a tourney to discuss. But next time I ask, be prepared to answer.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “I’ll keep her around.” He turned the monitor toward me, the image of one of the private rooms now taking up the full screen. It was Shay, naked from the waist up, her tits bouncing with each thrust, while she sat on that poor motherfucker in a reverse cowboy.

  “There aren’t any rules about waitresses fucking the players.”

  He zoomed in just as the guy leaned to the side and reached for her clit. It took me a second to realize who it was.

  “You’re right,” he said. “There aren’t rules about that. But there are rules about fucking the staff.”

  Roman’s head bouncer, Ruddy, wasn’t Shay’s type at all. She was fucking him to put on a show—a show she knew I was watching. She was staring right at the camera as she rocked, her fingers squeezing her nipples, her teeth biting her lower lip. She knew exactly what she was doing and whom she was doing it for.

  She didn’t seem to understand that I had no desire to watch anymore.

  “Call me nosy,” Roman said, “or call me concerned about your playing. Call me whatever you want. But when I ask about Brea, you speak, or you’ll be seeing a whole lot more of Miss Cowboy. The choice is yours, kid.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Roman sucked down the last of his Crown. “Oh, hell…this Brea already has you hooked worse than I thought.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  Brea

  “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in this bar,” Frankie said.

  I took off my jacket and placed my phone on top of the table. It wouldn’t be leaving my sight until I heard back from Trapper. I’d sent him a text on my way to the bar, the first text since the masquerade party. It was only three words—Hi, it’s Brea. Hopefully, it was the start to a very long conversation.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “I’m just…happy.”

  “Is it the wine?” she asked. She’d ordered a bottle of my favorite.

  I took a long drink. “Nope. Not the wine, but it’s delicious.” My phone beeped, and my eyes jumped to the screen.

  Mom: Where the heck are ya?

  Me: At a bar with Frankie. Sorry I forgot to call yesterday. If I don’t call in the morning, I’ll see you on Thursday. XOXO

  “Is it because you leased the Shuman’s penthouse on the same day it was listed and pocketed your largest commission to date?”

  “Nope. Not it either.” That was fucking fantastic though.

  “So then…what is it?” Frankie waited. “Out with it!”

  Two days had passed since the party, and I hadn’t said a word to her about Trapper, mostly because of Derek. Married couples seemed to have an unspoken rule about telling each other everything. Derek and Frankie were no different. For now, Derek didn’t need to know his client’s lips had been all over mine in his dining room when neither of us had even seen each other’s faces. There was a good possibility those lips would have gone even lower had Trapper not left when he did.

  Lower…

  Holy hell. Just thinking about the possibilities made me wiggle in my chair.

  “I’m just happy,” I said again. “Can’t I smile when I feel good without having an exact reason for it?”

  “Not you, no.”

  She was right. I wasn’t prone to unprompted happiness since Cody had passed away.

  “Don’t make me order tequila shots,” she said, signaling the waitress.

  “Nooooo!” I grabbed her hand and brought it toward the table. “No tequila. No hard alcohol. I’ve barely recovered from the last time we did shots.”

  My phone beeped, and the screen lit up with the text I’d been waiting for.

  I dropped her hand and lifted the phone.

  Trapper: Two days. Impressive.

  When I looked up, I found Frankie staring at me, scrutinizing my reaction. I felt like Trapper was doing the same through text. I’d waited two days to keep from seeming desperate, and he’d noticed.

  I tried to keep a straight face, so I wouldn’t give anything away as I thumbed a quick response.

  Me: Why? Did you miss me?

  “Brea Bradley, I’m about to come over there and—”

  “Okay, okay.” I set the phone on the table and swirled the wine around in my glass. “I met a guy. And he’s…kind of everything.”

  “Who’s this guy? What’s his name? And what do you mean by, everything?”

  Another text came in.

  Trapper: I was starting to think you were faking those moans.

  I took a drink, trying to calm myself down. Thoughts from that evening triggered an instant quiver in my stomach.

  “He’s mysterious and sexy. Charming and so yummy. And he can kiss, like really kiss. I felt it in my chest and my legs and…between them.”

  If I said his name, she’d go straight to Derek with it—not in a bad way, just in that married way. Until I knew we’d be moving beyond moaning texts, he would be the guy.

  “God, I was so wet when we finished that I nearly had to wring out my panties—except I wasn’t wearing any. But if I had been…”

  I answered his text.

  Me: Faking? Oh no. I was actually holding back…big time.

  “You’re incorrigible,” Frankie gasped.

  “Yep. I’m so guilty of that.”

  “You’ve been looking for a good man with a perfect cock. Do you think he’s the one?”

  Good question. “I think he’s a promising candidate.”

  Frankie crossed her arms over the table. “I should still come over there and smack you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you waited how long to tell me this?”

  My phone beeped again.

  Trapper: I want to hear how loud you can moan.

  I wanted to hear how loud I could moan, too…and scream. I had a feeling he could bring out my upper range.

  “There isn’t much to tell.” I refilled our glasses, the bottle getting dangerously close to empty. “We kissed for a while. We texted for the first time today. I just told you about it. That’s it really.”

  “But you didn’t just meet him today, so you’re at least a day late in sharing the news. I’m furious with you and ecstatic at the same time.”

  “I’m sorry for the delay.” I wasn’t really, but I did feel bad for not being able to share everything with her, like we always did.

  “So, when are you going to see him again?”

  “I don’t know.” My phone lit up, causing me to lose my focus again. “He’s…he’s in Vegas. I have no idea when he’s coming back.”

  I shot him another quick reply.

  Me: You’ll be hearing it. Very soon, I hope.

  “You do plan on calling him while he’s there, don’t you?” she asked.

  I looked at his last message again. It felt like some sort of invitation. “I hadn’t planned on it, but now, I think I will.”

  “Do you know why he’s there? Bachelor party, work, a trip with friends?”

  I shrugged. “I only know how good he tasted.” And smelled. And felt.

  The tingling was making a return.

  “You need to change that.”

  She was right. I did need to change that. I also needed to hear his voice, and he needed to hear mine. A plan started to formulate in my head. I had the perfect way to make sure he would be thinking of me for however long he planned on being in Vegas.

  �
�You’re plotting, aren’t you?” she said. “I can see it all over your face.”

  I smiled and picked up my glass. “Oh, yes, I have a plan. And it’s a good one.”

  Frankie glanced at the bottle. “I need to order another one before you fill me in.”

  I laughed. “Maybe you should order two.”

  I rushed into my closet and opened the sexy drawer—the one filled with the lingerie I’d purchased over the last several months. I began pulling out each of the pieces until I found the black lace set. The color matched the mask he’d worn to the party and the leather bracelets around his wrists.

  I kicked off my knee-high boots and pulled off my jeans and sweater. Then I threw the bra and panties I had on into the laundry bin. Now naked, I moved to the full-length mirror and gently clasped the black lace bra behind my back and shimmied the panties up my legs. It had been hours since I’d touched up my makeup and fixed my hair. It didn’t matter, not for what I had planned.

  Clutching the phone in my hand, I crawled up my bed and lay back into the pillow. As I held it above me, I watched my body fill the screen. It took a few tries to get the shot I wanted, but eventually, I captured it—my entire torso, from the middle of my bra to the end of my panties, zoomed in tight. I played around with some filters to hide all the imperfections. If things went any further than this, he would see them in person anyway.

  Ah, fuck it.

  I attached the unfiltered picture to a text and held my breath as I sent it. Once the word Delivered appeared under the picture, I hauled ass to the kitchen and filled a glass with wine. I was sure I didn’t need any more after the few I’d had with Frankie, but I had just sent this sexy stranger a picture of me in lingerie. Wine was a necessity at this point.

  Back in my bedroom, I turned off the light and climbed under the covers. I flipped through the TV stations, trying to find something entertaining enough to distract me and keep me from falling asleep. At almost three in the morning, my options were slim. Just as I settled on a movie, my phone rang. Trapper’s name brightened up the screen.

  I held the wine in my hand and took a deep breath. “Hello?”