Vegas Secrets

by Jenna Kelly

  For a moment, he dragged her head upwards so that he held her gaze. His nodding head told her to keep watching him as she went back to work. Her arousal outweighed the fear she felt. This was a position she enjoyed. He slowly began to buck his hips against her face.

  When her fingernails dug deeper, threatening to draw blood from his hard buttocks, he tightened his grip on her hair. "Yes, honey. Oh yes—"

  A final suck of her mouth, fondling of his balls, took him there. Natalie gave out a guttural moan as he fired the first blast against the back of her throat. She growled her approval, almost greedily accepting burst after burst of his creamy tribute. It took a while for him to finish, and even longer for her to come to her senses.

  With a feeling of astonishment, she realised she was close to orgasm herself. What she saw when she looked up at him took her aback. "You're still hard!" she gasped.

  "You didn't think we were through yet, did you?" he murmured. "My cock doesn't think so." He stared down at her, setting the cigar he'd continued to smoke on the table next to him. From above, he could see the edge of her blue satin bra, which barely contained her full breasts. "You like tats, Miss Songstress?"

  Samson Smith's lips curled as he watched her watch him remove his expensive silk shirt. She looked hungry. Just the way he liked them. He reached down and helped her to her feet, pulling her against his hard musculature. Their lips met for the first time.

  She moaned at his aggression.

  Flinging himself into her vacant seat, he stared up at her. Natalie knew what was expected. Harnessing her nervous energy, she pulled off her little blue blazer. Blobs of cum were spattered down the front. She ran her hands down the front of the low-hanging blouse, smoothing it over her voluptuous upper body.

  He kept eye contact as he began to idly stroke himself, watching as she put on a show, slowly unbuttoning her sleeveless blouse and shimmying out of her little skirt. He fucking loved Vegas.

  "Very nice," he nodded, scratching his chin and doing a little twirl with his finger. She spun for him, showing the sculpted splendour of her wonderfully toned buttocks. "You're your ass is designed for thongs!"

  "Do I please you, Samson?" she asked, turning back to him. She leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of her deep cleavage.

  "You will any minute," he grinned.

  Her pretty little face faltered a little, but Natalie knew her role. Reaching behind her, the brunette unhooked her bra and let her tits bounce free. "Does it involve these?" she asked, cupping the tawny flesh and squeezing her breasts together. Samson Smith licked his lips. "Or this?" She pulled her thong over her hips, letting the blue scrap catch around her Slade ankles.

  "Baby, your body is the shit!" he complimented, unable to help himself. Her healthy tan was complete, not a single bikini line to mare the perfection. Even the smooth lips of her pussy were golden brown beneath her narrow landing strip. She was somehow both slender and curvy with tits he couldn't wait to feel wrapped around his black cock.

  But right now, he needed to tend to more immediate needs.

  He reached out, clumsily grabbing at her. Natalie easily dodged him, turning her back to him coyly and wiggling her ass. So that was her game, eh? He took a different approach, leaning back in the chair and putting his arms behind his head. She glanced down at his cock, then up his face. There was that hunger again.

  "Come on," he said, "show me how much you want to be an Angel."

  Shivering, she sat back into his lap, guiding his cock between her legs and across her slippery vulva. She flipped her long, dark hair as she looked back at him, catching his eye with the innocent look he was beginning to love.

  "I'd love to cum on Samson Smith," she said throatily, giving a different meaning to his words. Her eyelids fluttered as she sat down on the club owner's manhood.

  Her pussy was snug yet welcoming. And she knew how to grind her body better than a lot of strippers he'd been with in the past. He leaned close, nipping her earlobe as he enveloped her tits in his large hands. "Welcome to my world, Natalie," he growled.

  ***

  "Torch the place," Big Jack told Kyle as he ended the call and threw the cell phone onto the couch.

  For a thirty year old, he'd surprised himself by how well he's stepped into his dad's shoes. To not only continue his late father's business empire, but also make it even more successful, was impressive. That made the brick wall he'd hit so frustrating. A brick wall called Smith.

  In his more reasonable moments, he understood why the man had taken such a dislike to him. His new Midnight Hot nightclub was in a better location than the Smith's more established club, and was in direct competition. But there was enough action to go around.

  Why should the bastard get greedy?

  The war of words that had begun some time ago, had been followed by a few minor skirmishes. Nothing serious. But heading that way. It wasn't in his interests to inflame things further, but with Smith throwing a smothering blanket over his operations, he wasn't going to allow himself to be bullied into submission.

  He'd tried to ignore it at first, he really had! It wasn't in his interests to involve himself in conflict. Well, the phone call he'd just received from Kyle changed all that. Smith had stolen some of his better girls, paying them over the odds to transfer their allegiance to his club.

  He had to respond, and it would be devastating. Within forty-eight hours, Kyle would be delivering a message Smith would never forget. With a burnt out shell of a club on his hands, it would remove him from the equation. There'd be no more fucking around with Big Jack!

  He ran a hand through his dyed black hair and admired himself in the mirror. He liked the colour, it disguised the grey that was beginning to creep through. Grey! At thirty!

  Employing Kyle as his number two had been a good move. So what if he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box? He knew the Vegas scene, knew how to get things done. And he was as loyal an employee as Jack could ever wish for. Getting him out of that jam had paid big dividends.

  Suddenly, he felt better, and when the door opened behind him, his sense of well being increased. He hadn't needed to call on one of his girls for afternoon entertainment after all. The spiky haired damsel in distress he'd rescued outside of Paris had eagerly agreed to come back to his house. They always did. Chicks like her loved men with power.

  After excusing herself to freshen up while he took Kyle's call, here she was, posing against the door in just her lacy bra and panties. Even better, the look in her eyes was telling him she was up for it.

  The white material provided a perfect contrast to her deep tanned skin. When she provocatively unhooked and dropped the bra, he gave a low growl. Those majestic tits were worth every penny she must have paid for them. He'd use her until he was bored and then move onto the next on his list to fuck. But his rapidly lengthening cock told him he wasn't going to be bored for a while yet. "Come here, baby," he growled, draining the Jack David's in one gulp.

  Thank God for that kid trying to steal her purse.

  ***

  The way Reagan's head was throbbing indicated her frustration. Headaches were always the first sign. And lately, it was Charles who was the source of her aggravation. His gambling habits had led to her current situation - she wasn't a prostitute, what the hell was she doing?

  She'd thought she was in love with Charles. How stupid was that? He'd turned out to be just another deadbeat poker player, who's gambling habits have gotten him, not to mention her, into a heap of trouble. Their relationship was suffering as a result, but that wasn't the worst of it. Her life was spiralling downwards, out of control.

  She'd only agreed to his pleading on the basis he'd stop his gambling lifestyle. And she'd been foolish enough to believe him! The bastard had promised to call her last night and when he hadn't, she'd given him the benefit of the doubt. But his failure to contact her this morning told her one thing. He was gambling again!

  Wandering into the Horseshoe, she'd have it out with Charles when she found
him. For once and for all. That's where he'd be, she was sure of that. Playing poker with the other deadbeats. How often had he told her it was his favourite casino? Old Vegas was kinda run down, so very different than the glitzy poker rooms of the strip.

  That's where the fish were, he said, full of young wannabees or washed out, older players. Perfect for him to make a killing!

  Except that he hadn't, not in the way he expected. It was her that he was killing. Damn, her headache was worsening! Where the hell was he? The Binion's casino was pretty busy, just as Charles always said it was, but there was no sign of her boyfriend. The place was just full of people like him, with ridiculous dreams of making it big.

  Easy money, that's what they thought. She hated the whole scene.

  ***

  The ringing tone blew Marissa's thoughts about Natalie and David out of her head, like a leaf floating in the wind. Dropping the fluffy Bellagio towel, she glanced at her nakedness in the long mirror before picking up the phone and flopping on the bed. Her shower could wait.

  "Hi Marissa, I'm pleased to have got you. Is it convenient?" Kaitlyn Kristen's voice sounded upbeat. That was a good sign.

  The nervous blonde ignored the lump in her throat. "Yes, of course" she replied. "I've been waiting for your call." Her heart was pumping so hard she felt dizzy. Don't start any small talk, her mind pleaded. Tell me the news… tell me the news.

  "I was hoping you'd be free for dinner this evening?"

  Dinner? Was that to give her the good news, or let her down gently? A long sip of water from the tall glass freed her throat, allowing her to reply. "I'd love to, Kaitlyn, I really would. But my sister's singing at Samson Smith's. I can't miss that."

  "My, my—" The Agency owner's voice was a deep growl, even sexier than Marissa remembered. "Can't you catch her another night?"

  "No, she's only booked for tonight," Marissa quickly explained. "It could be the break she needs."

  The wannabe model felt her heart stop when Kaitlyn paused. Then the woman was speaking again. "We mustn't miss that, I agree. What time's she on?"

  We mustn't miss that? "Around ten, I think."

  "Yes, makes sense. Putting her on in a non-risk spot. But listen, Marissa, I know a wonderful little restaurant nearby. We'll eat there early, and get to the club in plenty of time to watch Natalie perform. How's that sound?"

  It would have sounded wonderful if Kaitlyn would only tell her she'd got the job. What was keeping the woman? It had to be bad news! "That sounds perfect, Kaitlyn," she lied, trying to cover the nervous wobble in her voice. Just perfect."

  The Agency owner's next words lifted the cloud. "It sounds like it's going to be a wonderful evening, Marissa. The magazine people loved you. We can discuss the details over dinner, but you start shooting tomorrow."

  "My God," the blonde gasped. Kaitlyn's voice was so matter of fact that the excited woman blinked twice to clear her head. "Mrs Kristen— Kaitlyn— That's absolutely wonderful. I don't know what to say, except… thank you so very much. I… I won't let you down, I promise."

  "I know you won't, Marissa," Kaitlyn Kristen responded, her voice warm and comforting. "Dependant on how well the shoot goes, there's a longer term contract waiting for you. But understand, I'm quite demanding, and I take no nonsense from my models. Please me and the future is bright, Marissa. Upset me and you'll be out of the door so quickly—"

  "Kaitlyn… don't worry," Marissa cut in. "Really," she babbled, "I'll put myself in your hands completely.

  The Agency owner smiled to herself, a soft, knowing smile. "You'll be a star in no time," she breathed down the line. "It'll take two or three days, all full sessions, until we're finished, but we can talk about all that tonight. Daryl will be with me and we'll meet you in your hotel reception tonight at seven thirty sharp. Don't be late—"

  ***

  David had been so focused, so in the zone, he'd lost track of time. The announcement of the break took him by surprise, was it really six thirty? A hand gently touched his shoulder. Swinging around, Slade was grinning at him, looking as cool as he had six and a half hours ago.

  "I've been watching you play, kid. You've got something," he simply said. "Stay patient. You've made the money. Next stop the final table. Just stay patient." With that, he ambled off to the rail towards his cheering section.

  David's eyes followed him. Did Amarillo Slade just praise him? He watched the old fella speak to a couple of onlookers before his gaze was attracted to a face on his left. Smiling at him. My God—

  Reagan was astonished. It was a loud shout from the table that had first made her glance across. She recognised his face immediately. Her first thought was that he'd been a nice memory from the night before, nothing more. Maybe she should just leave and that would be that? Another deadbeat poker player was the last thing she needed.

  But there was something about the crinkly haired young man that made her feel he was different. She couldn't go without talking to him again. "How's it going, Englishman?" she smiled, instantly forgetting about her throbbing head.

  "Reagan—" His smile widened as he hurried across to her. Those freckles were a real turn on.

  "Pleased to see me?" she asked, "I'm surprised you recognised me with my clothes on."

  David felt himself colour as a couple of spectators swung around at her words. Ignoring the amused stares he gave her a hug. In white tank top and shorts, she looked a different kinda sexy to last night. But she looked sexy all the same.

  "Yes, it's good to see you," he enthused, though his beaming smile had already given away his positive reaction. "How are you?"

  "I'm good," she answered, her search for her boyfriend somehow falling to the back of her mind. "I thought it was tomorrow the Main Event started?"

  "It does, though I don't play 'til the day after," he told her.

  Reagan felt a tinge of annoyance bring back the throb in her head. "So, you're playing her until then? Make yourself rich?"

  His laugh was unexpected. "Hell, no, Reagan. This is a small tourney that'll give me some practice for the big one. I need all the practice I can get!" She nodded, and the way she raised an eyebrow made David think he's surprised her in some way. "What're you doing here?" he asked.

  "Good question," she sighed, her shoulders sagging a little as she glanced around the room.

  She looked so vulnerable in that instant that made the young poker player want to give her a hug. Don't go there, he told himself, remembering the way her breasts felt in his hands, her mouth on his cock.

  "Hey," she told him, waving a hand in front of his eyes to break the thought. "Come back to me!"

  He laughed, "sorry, I was just remembering something—"

  She laughed that infectious laugh. Suddenly Charles didn't seem so important anymore. "I can guess what," she smiled, twirling a loose strand of red hair. "But you're an Englishman with morals, remember?" She gave a rueful smile and the moment's silence felt surprisingly comfortable. "So, this tourney, Englishman - how's it goin'?"

  "Better than expected," he proudly smiled. "I've made the money."

  The redhead's eyes creased in amusement. "Made the money? Sounds good, but what exactly does that mean, Englishman?"

  David grinned. Without makeup, she was even more attractive. "I've cashed." Her blank look made him laugh out loud. "Okay, I've won some money."

  Her green eyes widened. Was it possible that they could sparkle more than they already were? "How much?"

  "A couple of thou so far. But if I stay in the tourney for a while longer, I might double that."

  "Wow," she laughed, maybe this guy really was different to the average poker player? He spoke in such a soft, respectful way, it made her feel warm inside. That's when it hit her. Charles made her feel bad about herself, this man made her feel worthwhile. "Gonna treat me to dinner?"

  His answer stuck in his throat. What would Natalie think of that? "Er—"

  "Here," she said, handing him a card. "This is my club. Pop in and see me soo
n. You can watch me dance."

  David grinned. "Why is it I think that might be memorable?"

  Reagan laughed that contagious laugh again as she dropped her sunglasses from the top of her hair, covering those mischievous eyes. "It'll blow your mind."

  ***

  Carrie was all over Big Jack. Men liked variety, so did she. Reaching for his saliva covered cock, she stroked him back to full erection. He'd cum hard in her mouth. They usually did. She'd always been able to work out a man's 'weakness,' with this man it was her mouth and his balls and finger in his ass. He'd squealed then cum like a geyser.

  Pushing him against the back of the chunky Crate and Barrel sofa, she crawled onto his lap and fed him her tits. Her breasts gave her power over the average hot-blooded male, that's why she'd had them done. Or rather, why she'd persuaded Samson Smith to pay for them.