Hustler

by Meghan Quinn

  I scrunch my face and tilt my head, thinking hard before finally grinning ear from ear. “I think you’re the smartest man on the planet! I’m in! Let’s make Gavin Saint’s head explode.”

  “Hey, gorgeous?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What really happened in that storage closet?” I glare at him and he gives me a cheeky smile in return. “He didn’t really see your thong just because you had a Britney Spears “Oops, I did it Again,” moment, did he?”

  Chapter Eleven

  **GAVIN**

  What the ever loving fuck!

  How could that dick stick end up getting a good night kiss after that pathetic excuse of a date? He didn’t even wear a suit coat, for Christ’s sake. What kind of barbaric human goes to the Red Room wearing just a button up? And I can’t even think about how his shoes didn’t match his belt.

  Shit. I rub my eye with my palm. Maybe I am gay.

  Nah, fuck that. No fucking way, especially not after the way my pants grew tight in the crotch from seeing Penelope in that backless dress. Of course she wore it. I should have told her to wear the tits dress, I should have known she’d defy me. Too bad for her I’m not worried about it, because when I do get her up to my villa, she won’t have to wear clothes at all, not for what I have planned for her.

  What are they doing? Just talking? Dude, if that was me, I would have her hand in mine, dragging her up to my place, not standing on the sidewalk, talking to her in front of an Uber driver. Seriously, where is this guy’s game?

  Like I should talk, I’m huddled in my Jag, scrunched against the window, trying to get a view of Penelope and her deplorable date. Yep, I’m that pathetic jackass. I try to convince myself I’m just making sure he doesn’t try to take advantage of her but I know that’s a lie. For some unknown reason, I need to see where this date goes, I need to have the last word with Penelope.

  Leaning in, she presses her head against his chest, hugging him tightly. Anger and irritation twitch across my body from the intimate contact. It’s just a hug, but what seems innocent really isn’t in a guy’s eyes. A hug is a way to get a feel of a woman’s tits pressed against his chest, to soak in the intoxicating smell coming from their hair, to ever so slightly lower your hands down their back, almost caressing her ass. A hug is anything but innocent and by the way Nick has been grabby all night, I know the exact thoughts running through his mind and I don’t like it.

  After what seems like hours but is in actuality only minutes, Nick releases her and helps her into the waiting car. Before I know what I’m doing, I pull out of my parking spot and I’m behind the Uber, following it all the way to her apartment.

  I’ve had better nights, I’ll admit that. Nights where I don’t stalk women, crash their dates, and then follow them home, unseen… like a total creeper, but then again, I’ve never been this challenged before.

  On the drive, I tell myself to turn around, to head back to my place, that what I’m doing is extremely unhealthy and borderline Dexter, but that doesn’t stop me. Do you know why? Because I have a massive dick sitting between my legs. Unlike an intelligent man with common sense, I listen to the little head poking at the zipper of my pants, telling me to get one more sniff of her perfume before I go home for the night. Alone.

  Goddamn it.

  Seriously, what the fuck am I doing?

  I sit at a red light behind her Uber car, watching her silhouette in the car in front of me. She flips her hair to the side, the beautiful strands falling to the right, enticing me. What would it be like to hold that hair while I fuck her from behind, taking her in a primal way just to hear my name roll off her tongue in ecstasy?

  Hearing her say my name is now an erotic fantasy to me, her husky voice, turned on from my touch. It’s mesmerizing, so to hear it while I’m nine inches—and no, I’m not over exaggerating—deep inside her, riding her from behind, thrusting into her until she has no choice but to scream my name… Fuck, I want that. I want that more than anything right about now.

  The light turns green and before I can change my mind, I drive forward, following the car until we get to her apartment. I park quickly and step out of my car, buttoning up my suit coat and pressing the lock button on my key fob.

  Penelope is gathering her items from the car, so I wait for her. The car door opens and out steps one toned, seductive leg, dressed in high, fuck me heels, followed by the devil dress that had me panting the minute I saw her in it.

  Yes, I put on a front about not caring that she wore it, but I’m not going to deny how good she looks in it. She was born to wear backless dresses, from her petite frame to the curve of her hips, the dress kisses every part of her body, barely touching the top of her round ass. The silky fabric cascades over her, floating in all the right places. For once, I’m jealous of a piece of fabric, I want to be the one who discreetly caresses her smooth skin and when I finally have my way, I will.

  “Good evening, Miss Prescott.”

  The car drives off as she startles, looking up from her phone, her hand to her chest. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” she says breathless. “What the hell are you doing here,” she looks around and continues, “besides being a psycho stalker?”

  “Thought I would make sure you made it home safely. I would have thought your date would have done the same thing after he kissed you goodnight.”

  “You saw that?” she asks in disbelief. “What have you been doing? Watching me with binoculars? That’s some real psychotic shit there Gavin.” She blows past me and heads up to her apartment. Having no shame, I follow her.

  “Nothing gets past me, Miss Prescott. Nothing.”

  She spins on her heels, facing me with her hands twisting together in front of her. I glance down at them quickly, taking in her nervous composure. Aware of my ability to read her, she releases her hands and places them at her side.

  “Is there something you need? Or do you enjoy preying on unsuspecting girls at night? Like Ted Bundy.”

  “There is something I need,” I say, walking up to her. Her eyes wander from the small expanse of skin exposed from the undone buttons at my throat, to where my hand rests in my pocket, down to my crotch, where they linger for two seconds too long. I’ve caught her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, a tremor in her voice.

  “Tell me, Miss Prescott, in the midst of that horrific date I witnessed tonight…”

  “No thanks to you!” she cuts in.

  I ignore her. “When Nick was trying to gain your attention, why were you insistent upon glancing over at me every few minutes?”

  “I was not!”

  I move even closer, backing her up into the wall in the communal hallway of her apartment building, not caring if her neighbors see us.

  “I beg to differ. While I was enjoying my dinner, I kept watching your eyes track over to me, scanning me up and down, unable to stop glancing at my chest. Is it because you got a good look at it this morning?”

  “You are so full of shit,” she shakes her head, not answering my question, so I push her further.

  Pressing my hands against her hips, I trap her. If she wants to leave, I’ll let her. I’m not that kind of man, but right about now, there is no moving on her end, just some heavy breathing and a consistent licking of her lips. All signs that I’m doing all the right things.

  “Answer the question, Miss Prescott.”

  She rolls her eyes, exasperation evident in her posture. “Gavin, why do we have to keep going over this, call me Penelope.”

  Leaning in abruptly so my lips are a whisper from her ear, I speak firmly, her chest rising and falling against mine. “I’ll call you Penelope once those pink lips of yours have been on every inch of my body, once you spread your legs for me, welcoming me into what I can only imagine is a sweet, tight pussy. Until then, you will remain as Miss Prescott.”

  My cheek brushes hers as I pull away. She tries to look unimpressed but I can see past her façade. I might not be able to read those eyes of
hers but the crinkle in her brow, the glisten on her upper lip, they’re all indications of my effect on her.

  With her head held high, she says, “I guess I better get comfortable with Miss Prescott then, because the only image of my pussy you’ll see will be one made up in that sick, twisted mind of yours.” She shoots me a devilish smirk and adds, “Or ones you can borrow from Nick, who I plan on fucking on that poker table you claim to be yours.” She pats my cheek and pushes away from me.

  Fuck, she got me good but I refuse show it, I don’t even show a tick in my jaw from her comment. She is not going to have the upper hand, ever. That’s not how I roll.

  “Do you think he’ll be able to give you what you want?” I ask, walking up behind her, making my closeness known.

  She doesn’t turn around as she answers me. “I know he will, Gavin. Unlike you, Nick knows how to treat a woman.”

  “Is that right?” I ask, slipping my hand through the back of the dress wrapping around her stomach so my fingers caress the subtle ridges of the abdominal muscles that lie under her silky skin. Shit this girl is fit. Her breath catches in her chest as I bring her up against me. With my other hand, I pull her hair to the side, exposing the length of her neck. Slowly, with great deliberation, I run my nose ever so carefully along the skin of her neck until my face is, once again, pressed into her hair. I can feel goosebumps spread over her body as my thumb strokes the ridges of her toned stomach.

  “I bet he doesn’t know how to make your skin tingle with anticipation, or make your stomach flip. I bet he has no clue how to trail over your nipples with precision, grazing them just enough to set you off.” I continue to move my lips along her skin, loving the way light shivers run up her spine. “I bet he doesn’t know how to fuck you with just his tongue to the point that your climax shakes you to your very core, and I sure as hell bet he doesn’t know how to make you come so hard that you black out from pleasure.”

  I can feel her body melt into mine, but there is still a layer of refusal. I just need to break through that layer. But in order to do so, I have to learn what that layer is.

  “And you think you can do all of that?” she asks, barely a whisper.

  “I fucking know I can,” I grit out, ready to nibble on her ear, inches from licking the column of her neck. I’ll take her up against this wall right now if I have to.

  I position my hand on her hip instead of her stomach, ready to make my move when her elbow flies back, right into my stomach and then to my utter displeasure, her fist shoots south, smacking right into my crotch, sending me buckling to the ground.

  She looks over her shoulder as she walks away. “Too bad you’ll never find out, asshat.” She nods at my crotch. “Might want to ice that, you don’t want your balls to be bluer than they already are.”

  With a wink, she’s unlocking her apartment door and disappearing out of my sight.

  “Christ,” I mumble from my place on the ground.

  Should have known she would go for the balls. I just got Ramos-ed. A-fucking-gain.

  ***

  “There’s the pretty boy. I told you he’d be up here.”

  I hear Graham but I don’t give him the decency of acknowledging him. Not because I think he’s a complete fuck head, but because I can’t take my gaze off of the screen in front of me. I should be watching the players, reading their tells and scanning the other screens, looking for cheaters, but I’m not doing that. Not one fucking bit. Nope.

  Instead, I have the camera fixated on Penelope, watching her every move, or should I say, every one of Nick’s moves. Yes, the asshole has been all over her tonight, to the point that I’ve been seconds away from going up there myself and ripping his arms off his body. Would love to see him serve drinks then.

  It’s been nauseating to watch them. Not because of their supposed chemistry, but because of the fact they’re trying way too fucking hard. With every pass Penelope makes, Nick grabs her, pulls her into his chest, nuzzles her neck, the asshole even gropes one of her tits.

  Yes… gropes her fucking tit!

  How do I know they are trying too hard?

  For one, every time Nick touches Penelope, she briefly glances up at the camera, as if to make sure I’m watching.

  Secondly, their dance of wandering hands is one sided, every move is coming from Nick.

  Thirdly, the way he touches her, like it’s wrong but he needs to do it to prove a point, makes it obvious that they aren’t interested in each other. There is zero chemistry, nothing like what I have with her.

  I’ve made a living off of reading people, a multi-million dollar living. What I’m seeing on screen is anything but a relationship. It’s more of a farce than anything. I’m not stupid, I can easily see what’s going on. They’re trying to make me jealous, trying to get into my head and make me think there is something between them.

  My only question is, why the fuck is it working?

  From the moment I started watching them, I haven’t been able to stop staring, I haven’t been able to look away, I haven’t been able to stop gripping my tumbler of whiskey in my hand to the point that I think it might shatter.

  In my head, I know what they’re doing isn’t real, but for some godforsaken reason, I can’t calm the rage in my body.

  “You look a little tense,” Scott says, gripping my shoulder. “Shit, man. You are. What the hell is going on?”

  “That!” I say, pointing at the screen, letting my emotions show in front of my friends for one of the first times ever. Gathering myself and straightening my jacket, I calm the blood boiling in my veins. “Your employees are being inappropriate,” I reply, ever the picture of professionalism.

  Graham looks down at the screen, recognition falling over his face before he throws his head back and laughs. “Dude, does that brunette still have your dick wrapped around her finger? I thought that was over a while ago.”

  “It is,” I answer, not convincing anyone, least of all myself.

  Scott pulls up a chair next to me and sits in it backwards, resting his hands on the back of the seat. “Kind of seems like it isn’t. Want to talk about it?”

  Can you tell Scott is the sensitive one between the three of us?

  “Nothing to talk about,” I answer, passing the whole thing off.

  “Bullshit,” Graham calls out, rocking on his heels, a shit eating grin on his face. “You’ve been hung up on this girl ever since she walked through the high roller suite. Let me guess, the almighty Gavin Saint hasn’t been able to get what he wants and now he’s pouting about it.”

  Kind of hitting the nail on the head, but like hell will I let Graham know that.

  “I’ve gotten what I want.” I respond, taking a sip of my drink.

  Graham raises his eyebrow in my direction. “Is that right? So you’re telling me that you’ve fucked her?”

  Before answering, I take a calming breath, regaining my composure. It’s easy to make Graham seem like a prick and that’s what I’m about to do.

  “You know Graham, life isn’t always about pulling a girl’s skirt up and fucking her from behind only to pull out a minute later and send her on her way.”

  “A minute?” Graham scoffs indignantly, Scott laughing in the background.

  “Oh sorry, are you down to thirty seconds now?”

  “Fuck you, man.” Graham can never take it.

  Ignoring his childlike composure, I continue. “Penelope is like a fine wine, you have to appreciate her. Take your time. Taste her one sip at a time. She’s not to be guzzled, nor to be chugged. With precision, a well thought out approach, and the right swagger, I’ll have her in my bed, calling out my name all night long. Instead of instant gratification that I’ll forget the next morning, I’ll have delayed satisfaction that will last me a lifetime. She’s one to remember.”

  Both men are silent, taking in my speech. In all honesty, I’m pretty impressed with myself. I knew I could bullshit my way through anything, but… damn!

  “You’re such a fu
cking idiot,” Graham chuckles. “Nice try dipshit. The girl has you by the balls and you have no clue how to get in her pants.”

  Pretty much.

  “I don’t know,” Scott adds. “It seems like Gavin has a point. She doesn’t appear to be someone you bang in a closet.” Scott raises an eyebrow at me. Quickly, I shoot a glare at Graham, who’s chuckling.

  I point at him. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that? Stop watching me on the camera! Jesus dude. What is wrong with you?”

  “Got to keep an upper hand on you at all times.”

  “Ha.” I shake my head. Graham will never have the upper hand on me, ever. He’s too much of a self-absorbed asshat to maintain the upper hand. “Keep dreaming.”

  “You do spend a lot of time watching him, Graham. It’s kind of messed up, man,” Scott adds.

  “Hey, you watch him too.”

  “Only because you are whenever I come up here,” Scott points out.

  Defending himself Graham says, “It’s fun to fuck with him. I have access to everything in this hotel. He makes a shit ton of money off my high roller games, I have to keep him grounded. And if that means locking doors on him, making him wait for the elevator longer, and turning the lights out in a dark hallway…”

  “I fucking knew that was you!” I punch Graham in the leg, making him laugh and bend over at the same time.

  “You were scared shitless.”

  “I had just gotten done watching The Shining. Those twins were mind fucking me all night and then you go and turn the lights out as I’m trying to find my way down the hallway. That’s messed up.”

  “It was priceless,” Graham laughs some more, garnering another punch from me, this time to the arm.

  “Come on,” Graham rubs his offended appendages. “You know I bruise like a peach.”

  “No one will be able to see it over that fake ass tan you have,” Scott points out. “You look like a douchebag who rolled around in Oompa Loompa shit.”