The Christmas Bet

by Alice Ward

  She nodded. Her flush was back, light but noticeable, and she seemed to be working incredibly hard to maintain eye contact.

  “And why, if I may ask, are you suddenly willing to delve into my oh-so-mysterious world?”

  “Because it’s so mysterious,” came her quick reply. When I crooked a brow, she smiled indulgently and shrugged. “I’m just curious, I guess. You seem to really want me to go there with you, and you’ve brought it up so many times the idea has grown on me.” She looked up again, this time with an onset of doubt. “You do want me to go, don’t you?”

  I couldn’t wait anymore. She was going to come with me — I was going to get her to The Club. That was just as good as her already having been there.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” I growled, “you have no idea.”

  She smiled. “Then make your bet.”

  I fisted the quarter. “If I win, you go with me to The Blackjack Club, wearing whatever I choose for you.”

  She swallowed and bit her lower lip. “Tails for me. Head for you.” Her lips quirked at her play on words. My head pulsed in my pants.

  “You’re not a kitten. You’re a tigress.”

  The smile grew bigger. “Flip.”

  I did, the quarter spinning to a summit before falling neatly into my palm. I slapped it on my arm and lifted my hand. “Tails.”

  She laughed. “I won. You really should give up gambling, you know.”

  “Never. Not when losing to you is so interesting.”

  *

  “God, I can finally get out of this thing,” Tabby groaned. The last word was hampered by the sound of her hotel room door closing of its own accord, but the very idea of her stripping out of the bridesmaid gown — or, better yet, her being stripped out of it by me — solidified my wavering resolve to make good on the urges I’d been having all night.

  Hell, forget all night. Urges I’d been having since the feisty little nymph slammed into me and spilled my drink on my groin.

  I strode forward as silently as a lynx and placed my hand flat against her back. She stilled with her hands in her hair, a pin halfway pulled free from the curled and spiraled updo. Slowly, I pinched the zipper at the top of the dress and began easing it downward. A loosened blonde twirl tickled my cheek as I nudged her temple with my nose and murmured, “I thought you could use some help.”

  “Yeah,” she breathed. Her back, revealed inch by inch as I pulled the zipper lower and lower, swelled as she inhaled purposefully. “Thanks.”

  “Mhm.” I grazed the bare skin of her spine with my fingernail and delighted as she twitched in response.

  A spaghetti strap slipped off her shoulder, then the other followed suit. She crossed her arms over her chest to keep the dress aloft. I gently bit the place where her neck met her shoulder and listened to the whispered rattle of pleasure she breathed out, and when I ran out of zipper, I hummed, “There.”

  “Thanks,” she gasped again.

  Tabby didn’t turn around, nor did she release her hold on the gown’s bodice, but she turned her head a fraction toward mine. It was a surreptitious invitation to kiss her, I knew, an invitation I would have enthusiastically accepted, but The Club…

  She hadn’t come through The Club.

  She wasn’t safe.

  But she’d agreed to go, and I couldn’t resist her. I had to take the chance.

  I crushed my mouth to hers, yanking her to me by the hips until my trouser-suffocated erection was flush against her apple-round backside. She moaned, a girlish moan of need muffled by my lips, but she wrenched herself back before I had the chance to tease my tongue between her teeth and taste her properly.

  “Owen, I don’t do this kind of thing.” Her words were part whimper and part pant. The combination stirred something deep inside me. As did the look on her face. Her eyes were hooded with undiluted lust.

  I turned her to face me directly, and she clung to her bodice even more tightly to keep it from flapping open. “I know.” My lips found hers again, more fully this time.

  She pushed against my chest, but the protest was clumsy as her lips continued to cling to mine. I inched back so she could speak, and I could watch her face as she did so. “No, really. I’m not the hookup-and-forget-it sort of woman.”

  Cupping her face between my hands, I lifted her head until she looked directly at me. I wanted her to see how serious I was when I repeated, “I know.”

  “It’s not you—”

  “Tabby.” My gut clenched as I asked the next question. “Do you want me to leave?”

  She opened her mouth, staring me searchingly in the eyes. The entire universe seemed to hold its collective breath as I waited for her answer. Finally, she whimpered, “No.”

  I raised her chin a millimeter. “Do you want me to stop?”

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  This time, she paused. Rather than taking the pause offensively, I was pleased. She was giving my question genuine thought, which meant her answer wouldn’t be an impulsive or obligatory one. Finally, she said, “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “Then, sweetheart, the only thing I want to hear coming out of that sweet, sweet mouth is the sound of your ecstasy.”

  She shuddered, and I tugged her lips to mine again. I didn’t wait to penetrate her mouth with my tongue, and the moment the tip touched hers I tasted a succulent blend of dry white wine and sugared berries. Releasing her chin, I took her wrists in my hands as I kissed her and pulled them away from her dress until a waterfall of green tumbled to her ankles in a pool and her breasts were bared. She arced her back the moment the natural air brushed her freed nipples, and I felt the hardening nubs brush my shirt. Dropping a wrist, I snuck a finger between her skin and the only remaining piece of fabric separating her from me — thin cotton panties. Moisture coated the digit — warm, slick moisture — as I trailed the petaled slit up and down. I groaned into her mouth.

  “Fuck. You’re wet for me.”

  Tabby moaned as I fondled her opening just enough to stimulate another moan before I circled back up to the hooded bead of nerves at the top of her folds. Experimentally, I tapped. Her moan grew higher, more urgent as I repeated the action. Flicking the hood out of the way, I tapped again. She exhaled harshly, and nails clawed into my arms. Mild pain erupted up to my elbows, cracking my determined restraint to ease into the seduction, and I snarled as I dropped low to scoop her up. I had her flat on her back atop the standard hotel bed before she could emit her shriek of surprise.

  “Lift,” I commanded, hooking my fingers into the sides of her panties and jerking them downward. She obeyed and raised her hips, and I wrenched the underwear past her knees to her ankles. She started to unhook a foot through a leg hole, but I shook my head and grabbed her ankle. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You don’t move unless I tell you.”

  “But how are we supposed to… ohhh…”

  I circled her clit before pinching it between my fingers, eliciting an airy, high-pitched moan from her.

  “The only thing I want to hear from you,” I said, making sure she understood just how serious I was, “is that moan.”

  She looked up at me through wide eyes, giving her the expression of innocence that sent my cock into spasms. After a long, slow swallow, she nodded.

  Taking her other ankle into my hand, I forced her feet up toward her core. Her knees splayed out to either side, spreading her thighs and revealing the pink, glistening Eden within. Her pussy looked as sweet as her mouth had tasted, and I was hungry. Famished, actually.

  Bending low, I planted my lips on her mound and breathed a kiss of breath on the drenched skin. She started to tremble, and her knees snapped closed. I jammed them back into place and pressed the flat of my tongue onto her sensitive skin before venturing north at a painstakingly slow pace. Her knees jerked again, but she was mindful enough to prevent them from clenching my head. She wasn’t mindful enough, however, to hold back the spew of pleas that burst from her like a geyser.

 
“God, Owen, please! Don’t — just — I need more!” she wailed.

  I froze, tongue still flush against her, and raised my eyes to meet hers. Her cheeks were pinkening and her breath was becoming ragged, but her marbled orbs were still clear and sparkling with awareness. She wasn’t nearly desperate enough yet, and as punishment for her oral outburst, I flicked a circle around her button with cruel intent. Her hips squirmed in an attempt to intercept my teasing tongue with her wanting clit, but I wasn’t about to make it so easy. Grabbing her pelvis, I dug my thumbs into the v-shaped crevice lining both sides of her mound. She yelped, either with ticklish sensitivity or heightened arousal, and I took her moment of lost focus to drive her rear deeper into the mattress.

  “Do. Not. Move,” I whispered.

  Tabby moaned yet again, not because I resumed licking her but because she was starting to realize how little control she had and how much I wielded. The cry was an auditory aphrodisiac, and I had to dive back down to prevent my dick from forcing its way out of my trousers and into her. I lapped at her eagerly, slithered to her mons, traced geometric shapes across her miniature globe. Every movement drove her to writhing, but I didn’t bother stopping her this time. I ate up her reactions as enthusiastically as I ate her. Squealing, meowing cries rose through the room, octave and volume rising with every miniscule variation in movement I made. Then, when I plunged a finger deep inside, stroked her recessed soft spot, and fluttered my tongue across her swollen clit, her hands shot down to clutch my hair and I knew it was time.

  In a swift motion, I unlatched my belt buckle and shoved my trousers down without bothering to unbutton or unzip. My cock sprang free with a bounce, and I took a condom from my pocket. I watched her watch me roll it on… watched her watch me find her center, the tip of my cock nudging her open.

  The waiting was excruciating. Tormenting. Necessary for us both.

  Now.

  I thrust, and Tabby’s spine seemed to splinter at the center as her torso peaked toward me while her hips and shoulders remained planted on the bed. She was so tight, so wet, so welcoming I gritted my teeth. Good. So damn good.

  I thrust deeper and deeper until my entire length was consumed by her. Her moan became a feral roar, and the same nails that had driven me to animalism drilled divots into my shoulders. I pinned my mouth to hers to drink in her euphoria as I barreled forward again and again with sweat sheening on my skin and thigh muscles threatening to burn.

  She tightened around my girth, and again I knew it was time. If I kept going, she was going to explode, but I wanted to keep her at bay for a moment longer.

  “Don’t,” I hissed against her teeth. “Not yet.”

  “I have to!” she protested in a haggard gasp.

  Pausing in place, I repeated sternly, “Not yet.”

  Tabby groaned in frustration and raised her hips, encouraging me to continue, but I wasn’t about to bend to her whim. I wanted her to come, but it was going to be on my terms. To deliver that message, I wove a hand between our bodies and pushed the heel of my palm against her clit. Her breath hitched. I smirked, rubbed a tempting circle, and mirrored the gesture with my hips. She yowled and lifted her ass again, and I shoved her back down onto the blankets.

  “Ask me,” I ordered after she opened her eyes.

  “What?” she wheezed. The sparkle I’d seen in her eyes when we’d started had faded, replaced by the hazy cloudiness of teetering climax. She was ready, so ready, and the gift of bliss was mine to dole out.

  “Ask me,” I said once more. My voice was low, nearly a whisper, but I kept my gaze locked to hers to ensure she heard every single word. “Ask me to let you come.”

  She choked on desperation, then pled almost inaudibly, “Will you please let me come?”

  I swirled the circle over her clit a second time with added pressure and cocked a challenging brow.

  “Please!” she wheedled.

  “Louder.”

  “Please, Owen, can I come?”

  I smiled, leaned down to kiss her, then whispered against her lips. “Not yet.”

  She opened her mouth to scream or curse me, but I didn’t let her shout the obscenities she was certain to start spewing. Instead, I lunged deep inside her again, clashing our bodies together with a brutality we both seemed to need. She moaned a song of sugary sin, and then she arched back, her body a tight bow. “I can’t — I can’t — god, Owen, please, I have to—”

  “Now.” I could barely get the word out through my gritted teeth, but I couldn’t let go until she did, and I was about to tip. “Come.”

  She screamed, and lights burst behind my eyes. The room, the city, and the world imploded around me, and the only thing I knew was Tabby as I emptied myself into her pulsing, gushing pussy. Her cries were a symphony in our shared utopia, her violent touch a caress. I was reduced to a raw orgasm given by a quirky goddess of myth, and my need for control was relinquished in the throes of her pleasure.

  And then we were two damp bodies tangled in wrinkled sheets, and she fit too well in my arms.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tabby

  The bed felt too large and too empty when I woke up, which was strange because I’d actually found it unfortunately small every other morning I’d woken during my stay at Harrah’s. I blinked at the ceiling for a few seconds and wondered what was different until a slight shift brushed the sheet across my nipple and sent a shiver straight down to my sex. It was then I realized my nerves were prickling, my clothes were discarded on the floor, and the bed felt empty because I’d fallen asleep with a man who wasn’t there anymore.

  I could still feel him though. Fingertips on my belly, lips between my thighs, granite-hard cock in my core. Heat, breath, sweat… and the most gripping, electrifying orgasm I’d ever had.

  He was a god.

  Kicking the covers off, I fumbled to my feet and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The digital clock on the nightstand read nine twenty-three in offensively bright red numbers, but the curtains were drawn across the window and blocked daylight so thoroughly I could’ve easily been convinced it was still the wee hours of the morning. Nevertheless, I padded to the bathroom. If the clock was honest in its tellings, I only had an hour and a half to get downstairs and extend my stay for another night to accommodate my promised visit to The Blackjack Club with Owen.

  Twenty minutes and a quick tooth brushing later, I hustled my butt to the lobby. There were still smudges of eyeliner beneath my eyes because I’d forgotten to remove my makeup last night, but I’d wiggled myself into a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, so I figured I was presentable enough to chat with the Harrah’s receptionist. I wasn’t presentable enough, however, if I ran into any of Grace’s other bridesmaids, as they were likely to be wearing outfits from Neiman Marcus, but I didn’t care. My body was still buzzing, and my head was still foggy from my romp with Owen, and I was more preoccupied with the niggling wonder of why he’d snuck out of the bed and the room at some mysterious hour earlier in the morning.

  Luckily, the lobby was empty of sorority alumnae and there were relatively few guests, so I approached one of the two unoccupied concierges without waiting.

  “Good morning,” she greeted brightly, presenting a smile too sunny for the foggy state I was feeling. She was a petite brunette with one of those buns on top of her head that was supposed to look tousled despite clearly being carefully styled. I thought her a better fit for a professional cheerleading squad than a hotel-slash-casino, but I wasn’t going to judge. “How can I help you?”

  “I’d like to book my room for another night, please,” I told her.

  She turned to the computer in front of her. “Absolutely. Name?”

  I passed along the information, along with my current room number and my association with the wedding party, and leaned an elbow onto the countertop while I waited. A quick glance around revealed an older couple in Santa caps walking in, and a half-dozen young women dressed like Daisy Duke, the tallest of whom wore a sash labeled �
�Bride.” There weren’t any familiar faces, thankfully, but I was admittedly surprised because checkout was drawing near.

  “Oh!” The woman’s waxed and shaped eyebrows shot upward, and she leaned nearer to the computer screen like she wasn’t believing what she was reading. “You’re already booked for the night!”

  “I… what?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  “Yes, your stay has been extended to include tonight. It’s been paid in full and everything. And…” She droned into silence and bent down behind the counter as I gaped at her with a complete lack of understanding. She resurfaced again with an envelope in her hand. “Your flight has been changed for you as well.”

  I took the proffered envelope, gave her an uncertain look, and flipped up the flap. Tucked neatly inside was a plane ticket. The airline and flight time was exactly the same as the ticket I had upstairs in my room, but the date was for tomorrow rather than today. Furthermore, a brief moment of disbelieving squinting revealed I was going to be returning to Chicago in first class.

  “Who did this?” I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it.

  She beamed. “It’s all compliments of a Mr. Owen Driscoll.”

  “Of course it is.” A mixture of feelings coursed through me as I closed the envelope again. “Well, thanks.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Rickard, and if there’s anything else we can do for you please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  As I walked back up to my room with ticket in hand, a new concern presented itself to me. Last night with Owen was incredible — mind-blowing, actually — and even the less personal time we’d spent together was more enjoyable than any dating experience I’d had in some time. I liked him. Yet, he’d been so persistent in his efforts to get me to this unexplained Blackjack Club, and he’d now gone as far as to pay for my extra night in the hotel and cover the costs of my changed flight that I couldn’t help wondering why. Something about me and the Blackjack Club together was very important to him, but what if, once he got me there as he evidently wanted so badly, he would be satisfied and lose interest in me? What if finally getting his wish would mean he was done with me?