Betting On It

by Violet Blake

I couldn’t help my frustration when he took his fingers away, and watched him jog to the fridge at the bar. He rooted around inside for a moment, grabbed something, then slammed the door shut and came back. With triumph gleaming in his eyes, he held up a jar of maraschino cherries.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Seriously?”

  “Keep reading. I’ll catch up.”

  The man was committed. He’d already unscrewed the jar and pushed my skirt up. Sawyer sat on the floor in front of me, and pulled me into a rough kiss. And while he drove me crazy with his mouth, his hands drifted downward. He pushed my panties aside, and his fingers caressed my sex. “You’re so fucking wet, Blair.”

  He reached into the jar and plucked out a cherry. His hand skimmed the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, and when he reached my sex he rubbed the cold cherry against my clit. I gasped at the initial coldness, but the fruit warmed against my skin, and when he’d teased me to the point that I could no longer sit still, he pushed the cherry inside.

  “Keep going,” he said, his voice pouring over my senses like warm whiskey.

  “‘Th-then he asked if I’d like to go somewhere quiet to continue the conversation, and I couldn’t have said no if my life depended on it. I followed him into a roped-off section that overlooked the dance floor, and we stood at the balcony watching the hot, sweaty, sexy bodies undulate in time to the DJ’s beats.’”

  His tongue played with the cherry inside of me, making reading comprehension impossible. I closed my eyes and surrendered, my breathing stuttering at the same pace as my building orgasm. So, so close…

  The sensations came to a screeching halt. “You’re becoming distracted,” he said. “What happens next?”

  As if he didn’t know. Damn him for torturing me.

  “Seriously?” I whined, my lips tugging into a pout.

  His grin summoned every sexy, bad-for-you villain known to woman. “If you don’t keep reading I’ll have no idea what to do.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Like you haven’t read this book before.”

  “Like I remember every detail.”

  My insides quivered. I needed release. I needed him. I put the book up to read, making a fortress between his gaze and mine. “‘V-Victor pressed up behind me, his cock harder than ever. His body lowered behind me, and when he rested on his knees, he pushed my skirt up to expose my ass. He tore off my panties, and his tongue…’”

  Sawyer stopped teasing me with the cherry and regarded me with a look so innocent it was downright evil. “His tongue…?”

  “Geez. Give a girl a second, will you?” I asked.

  He assumed an exasperated eye roll, and his cheek pressed against my inner thigh. “I want to get to the good parts.”

  Jackass. I picked up the book. “‘…his tongue penetrated the weeping lips of my cunt and brought me to another orgasm—’”

  On cue, Sawyer amped up the volume. I came fast and hard, my eyes and teeth clenching, it was so intense. After a few panting breaths, Sawyer kissed my knee, and I realized he was chewing the cherry. “I’m waiting, sweetheart.”

  “Hey. You’re eating that. Spoiler alert.”

  “Sorry.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to come down before I could continue reading. Was this man even for real? Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and the words on the page slowly came into focus. “‘Then he stood behind me again, the distinct smell of my pussy and the sweet cherry on his lips. I turned and kissed him, devouring his sex-covered mouth as he unzipped his trousers. My hands grabbed for that big, beautiful cock of his, and when I wrapped my fingers around it, it was so huge my thumb and middle finger didn’t meet.’ What? No dick is that big.”

  Sawyer cleared his throat. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  I winked. “Okay, fine. Except for yours, Sally.”

  “You know it.” He straightened from his kneeling position, until his mouth leveled with mine. He kissed me, and my hands went for his zipper. When my hand closed around him he moaned.

  Under the spell of the story unfolding—not to mention the way Sawyer followed along so well—I continued. “‘I pumped that cock so hard, until a bead of pre-cum covered my fingers. But before I could fall to my knees to take Victor into my mouth, he lifted my lips and pushed my ass against the balcony.

  “‘Thrusting into me, he took me as if our lives depended on it. He fucked me so hard and fast I saw stars, and when I came, he put his finger on my clit and demanded another orgasm, which I was happy to oblige. He pushed the top of my dress down and watched my tits bounce up and down, and when I was about to come again, his mouth clamped over one while he came.

  “‘His seed poured into me, hot and hard, to match the way his mouth felt on my breast. He put me down and straightened my clothes before he straightened his. And without a word, he turned and left the room.’”

  I stared at the words, the end, and scowled. Talk about a textbook example of Wham, Bam, Thank you, Ma’am.

  “Is that it?” Sawyer asked.

  “I guess so.” I couldn’t shake the unhappy ending.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “This wasn’t exactly Kafka.”

  Kafka wasn’t the issue. It was the stunning realization that what Victor had done to the writer was what I’d been doing with Sawyer. Sex, sex, more sex, and little else of the other relationship and after care stuff that makes the sex better.

  No wonder he didn’t want to share his past with me. He deserved better.

  “Blair?”

  I shook my head, extricating myself from the unhappiness. I’d deal with that later. “So, uh, I guess it’s time for you to pour your seed into me.”

  Not wasting a second, Sawyer lifted me from the couch and carried me to the window overlooking the streets below. My backside pressed against the cool glass, and his iron grip assured me I wouldn’t fall to my death or anything. Daylight prevented my naked ass from being exposed to the neighborhood, but I still loved the thrill of the faux exhibitionism.

  He took my nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, his tongue rasping back and forth over the bottom part of my areola.

  I ground against him, eking out an almost stupid amount of pleasure.

  He moaned, sending little trembles through the most sensitive nerves in my body. It was nearly enough to make me come, but when he sucked the entire nipple into his mouth and groaned again, that’s what undid me.

  I wrapped my hand around his cock. I positioned him at my sex, and drove down on him. This being our seventh time today, we were both pretty worn out.

  I came right before he did, and rested my forehead against his while we caught our breath. Still inside me, he held me against the window while we caught our breath.

  My phone vibrated across the room.

  He moved away from the wall and set me on my own two feet. “You have a bunch of texts and emails to catch up on tonight.”

  I pouted. “I was hoping to ignore those.”

  “Hard to when your phone keeps lighting up every ten minutes. Go work, sweetheart. I’ll make us some dinner.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The weekend went by too fast. And the fact that our month was over halfway done hit me harder every day. I knew we weren’t “breaking up” or anything like that once it was over. But the sense of finality lingered.

  Sunday morning we woke at six for our run. He hadn’t shaved yet, and he wore a pair of Ray-Bans. No shirt. Yay. And black running shorts.

  I stuffed my feet into the neon pink capri leggings I’d brought, put on a black running tank, and braided my hair. We ran hard and fast that morning, working out the tension.

  When we got back I made breakfast. He took a seat at the table in his dining room, and I got to work making him an egg, over-easy. While the eggs cooked on the stove, I got him a big glass of water, grabbed a banana, and set it on the table for him. “Eat.”

  “You’re scary when you’re bossy,” he said.

  “As I recall, you like it when I’m
bossy. And scary.” I winked and went back to the stove to flip the eggs.

  “I saw your mom on the news yesterday,” he said.

  I snagged the edge of the egg and it tore a hole in my otherwise perfect creation. Damn it. “You did?”

  “She’s running for Senate re-election.”

  “That’s a pretty big deal.” I chopped miniature red peppers and mushrooms for garnishes.

  “She’s on the short list for Senate Majority Leader,” he continued, watching me close.

  Carefully, I arranged the omelet on the plate. Thank fuck it didn’t fall apart—my egg glue job had held nicely. Next I took the peppers, onions, and mushrooms, and arranged them in a formation over the egg, and placed the bacon just so. When I was satisfied, I put the plate in front of him.

  He blinked a few times. “Did you make me a Death Star egg?”

  Smiling, I drank a long sip from my coffee. “Eat up.”

  While we ate, I thought about my mom. According to Breanna’s dramatic display of paranoia, I should expect Storm Troopers to raid my house at any minute and start going through my stuff. Not that I had anything to hide. They could ask what they wanted, I’d tell the truth, and still be able to sleep at night. But why would that make Mom freak out?

  She probably thought her cutting me off would make her look bad. Of course she’d done a great job of painting me in the role of bad guy. How dare I walk out on a family and fiancé who couldn’t be bothered to give a shit?

  Still, if she were vetted for a position like that she’d have to open her financial records. And if she did that, they’d see that the trust from my grandmother’s estate had been revoked. My grandmother on my dad’s side hated my mom on sight, but she and I were close. When she’d died over ten years ago, my mom had expected to get a slice of the pie. The entire pie had been given to me, something Mom and Breanna never let me forget. But I’d been a minor when the trust had been started, which meant I’d needed another name on the account until I reached adulthood. When I’d left five months ago, she’d somehow managed to get that account taken away from me, which I’m pretty sure wasn’t legal.

  What was she thinking? Of course there would be questions.

  “Blair?”

  I’d never really thought about it from a legal standpoint. I was so caught up in the emotion, I didn’t think about the technicality of it. It was my money.

  Sawyer waved his hand in front of my eyes. “Hello? Earth to Blair?”

  I snapped out of it. “Sorry.”

  “Where did you go off to?” Concern softened his eyes.

  “Just thinking about my mom’s campaign.” I didn’t doubt she would be in touch soon. My entire life I’d been dragged and paraded about the campaign circuit. The most important accessory to a politician was a happy smiling family—hers was missing an important piece. Interesting to wonder what excuse she’d come up for me not being there.

  Everybody probably thought I was a runaway bride, a total flake who got wasted at a hospital fundraiser then dumped her fiancé the next day, and the whole appendix story was a cover up. Breanna was the hero in this saga, sweeping in to offer comfort to the jilted groom, while I allegedly sowed my wild oats in Colorado. That’s not enough reason to cut ties with family, though. Mom probably knew she had a ticking time bomb in me, even with the nondisclosure I’d signed. Private details could leak pretty easily. People would eventually put it all together.

  “Hasn’t she talked to you about it?”

  “We don’t talk anymore. At all,” I said, fascinated by my napkin.

  “Why not?”

  I chose my words carefully. The last thing I needed was somebody feeling sorry for me. I did that enough on my own. “My parents weren’t exactly happy about me breaking off my engagement.”

  “Give them time,” he said. “They’ll start to miss you, and I bet they’ll forgive you.”

  My jaw clenched so hard my muscles tingled. “I’ve done nothing that needs to be forgiven.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I don’t want to talk about my parents,” I said. “They…they hurt me so badly that we will never have a relationship again, whether they forgive me or not. And I know that I can never forgive them for the things they’ve done.”

  “What did they do to you?” he asked.

  I hated saying things like this to a guy whose parents were taken from him at a young age. And his aunt and uncle were so warm, so loving. I doubted he’d even understand if I tried to explain. If I told him the truth, he’d really think I was a loser. So I shrugged, adopting a more carefree tone. “That’s a conversation for another day.”

  “Okay,” was all he said, and set to work cleaning his plate.

  While he ate I checked emails and texts, and did a long overdue cloud backup on my phone. Sawyer’s condo had amazing Wi-Fi, so it would only take a couple of minutes here.

  “This was a great breakfast.” Sawyer stood and grabbed our plates, then took them to the sink to rinse off. “You’re going to the mountains with me next weekend, right?”

  I’d almost forgotten about that.

  He gave me the most charming grin, the one that made his dimples deepen. “I wasn’t going to go, but I thought it might be fun to go away with you for a few days. Get away from work…and everything.”

  It sounded so great, to get away with him. But I had less than a hundred dollars left in my account to get me through the next week until payday. And I didn’t want to mooch off him the entire time, either.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, and took my hand.

  I shook my head. “I’d really love to go, it’s just that…well, this account I’m working on. I don’t know if I can get away.”

  “You’ve been working too much.”

  “So have you.”

  “There are only two parties we need to be at and the rest of the time you can work on your project.”

  “That won’t be fun for you,” I said, guilt rising over my lies.

  “Even if I get to just watch you work it’ll be fun for me. Or we could stay here. I thought it would be—”

  Damn it. Time to come clean.

  Mortified at what I was about to say, I met his gaze. “I really appreciate the invitation, and trust me when I say that nothing sounds more amazing than getting away with you for a weekend.”

  “But…”

  I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged my legs. “I can’t have you treat me to a vacation like this. We’re together to put on a show for your aunt and uncle and to win a bet and the guilt—”

  “Blair,” he said, shaking his head. His thumb caressed my hand. “I know where you’re coming from, but the trip is on the brewery. We do this every year for employees and their spouses. All expenses paid, down to the gas vouchers. Forget about proving a point for a few days and have some fake girlfriend fun with me.”

  Geez. When he put it that way…

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s just that—I want to have fun with you. I do.” I tore my eyes away from him, ashamed at the reasons why I couldn’t do it. Pride? She was a nasty bitch.

  “I’m hearing a really loud but.”

  I licked my teeth with my tongue, steeling myself. “Aside from this bet, and the things we’re doing on the list, I feel like…like that’s all I have right now. I’ll never be enough.”

  He let out a loud breath. “Are you kidding me?”

  I clenched my front teeth together and shook my head.

  “Christ,” he whispered. “Who’s telling you that kind of bullshit?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said.

  “Who, Blair?”

  I tapped my foot, unable to meet his eyes. “Your aunt and uncle are amazing people. I don’t think you know how lucky you are to have them.” I peered down at my hands with the amount of interest I would an alien species. “I didn’t have anything like that growing up. Everything was based on measures
of success, not…love.”

  “You don’t think your parents loved you?”

  Not that they’d ever told me.

  “Not everybody has a Disney childhood,” I said.

  “Ow?”

  I winced. “I have a horrible time sharing my feelings,” I said, making air quotes and grimacing. “Just forget it, okay?”

  He took my hands, the light behind his eyes burning, intense. “Not happening. Part of my services as your partner-in-crime is to call bullshit when I see it. And what I’ve just heard is complete bullshit.”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it. First off, your parents are assholes.”

  My shoulders pulled into a shrug of agreement.

  “Your mom’s an asshole for using you like her own little political puppet, and your dad’s an asshole for going along with it. Second, your sister’s an asshole for going after your asshole ex-fiance.”

  “So you’re basically saying everybody I know is an asshole?”

  “Yep. And do you really care what a bunch of assholes think?”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “Then why do you? You’re smarter, better than that. You’re working hard, and that’s what matters.”

  I looked down at his large hands covering mine. “Thanks for not being an asshole.”

  “Does this mean you’ll go away with me?”

  “Does this mean you’re going to take full advantage of my fake girlfriend status in front of everybody up there?”

  His delectable lips tugged into the most sinful of smiles. “Most definitely.”

  ...

  Sunday night I went home, ate dinner quickly, and got right to work on the ad designs Victoria asked for. I plugged in my headphones and turned on my Lindsey Stirling playlist, getting lost in the music and a kaleidoscope of ideas. So caught up in the process that when my phone rang I answered without checking who called.

  “Blair.”

  “Mom?” I knocked over my coffee mug. Yeah, coffee at eight p.m. Don’t judge. I’d spent all weekend having fun, now I had to pay.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just, uh, working. I didn’t expect your call.” I grabbed a paper towel and got to work cleaning the coffee from the table, dabbing at papers. To make multi-tasking easier, I set the phone on the table and put it on speaker.