by Jenna Kelly
Feeling a nipple invade his mouth, he clamped down on it, suckling it, biting it. She moaned loudly as he attacked one hard nub, then the other. Men couldn't resist her tits, her long nipples. "Yes, yes, bite them! Fuck!"
Her hands moved to his hair. It was obviously dyed. That always made her smile. Men with dyed hair weren't usual her thing, too vain. This one was different. She'd taken a liking to his body. That made Samson's task bearable. What the fuck was she supposed to find out, anyway?
She took her time as she flexed and gyrated in his lap. There was plenty of time. When he wanted her to go faster, she slowed, and when he tried to ease the pace, she fucked him harder. It took her fifteen minutes to bring him to the boil, and once she had him there, she athletically swung her body around so that she ended up underneath him.
She loved that surprised look on his face.
Giggling like a schoolgirl, she pulled his head down to her breasts again. Men liked the schoolgirl effect. Thrusting her hips upwards, she allowed his naked cock to rub directly against her velvet smooth sex. Each time he tried to enter she twisted away, and just as he began to lose his temper, she sheathed him with a gentle undulation of her hips.
"What kept you," she giggled, digging her hands into his hard ass. "C'mon, baby, what are you waiting for… do me!"
He reacted with a snarl, rocking forward and sinking deeper inside her.
"That's better," she mumbled, her heels finding purchase on his buttocks and pulling him down into her. "So good, Jack! You're the biggest I've ever had!" Wait 'til she told Samson that one!
"I'll fuck you, you bitch," he growled, but as soon as he established a rhythm, she twisted again. Her right leg swung up and over his left shoulder, then her left over his right.
"Yes, baby, do me good," she moaned, her submissive position allowing him the pretence of being in control. He responded with another snarl. fucking her harder. Just what she wanted. Make her cum first, and then give him what he needed. She giggled to herself. She loved sex!
It took him ten minutes to make her cum, a look of conquest splitting his face as she growled and shuddered her way through the orgasm. "Yeah baby," he triumphantly cried, dipping his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. "That good, baby," he asked, seeking approval.
"The best, Jack," she moaned, dropping her legs to pinch his sides, "the best!" Men were such fucking boys. He didn't even know her name. She'd told him often enough. He'd know it before she dumped him and returned to Samson, that was for sure.
"You fucked me good, Jack," she told him. "You fucked Carrie good. Say it, Jack… you fucked Carrie good!" Her legs closed around his back as she spoke, her heels pushing down on his ass so he bottomed out inside her.
"I… fucked… Carrie… good," he obediently repeated, gasping with each word as she took back control. Arms around his back, legs around his waist, she began to fuck upwards, moving like a well-oiled piston.
She could tell he was close, his panting and the way he squeezed his almost colourless eyes told her that. Later tonight, she might even let him fuck her ass, if he remembered her name.
Right now, she wanted his cum. "Close, Jack?" she asked, dropping her feet onto the bed in preparation for her next manoeuvre. "Close, baby?"
"Oh God…" he groaned in response, feeling his balls shiver.
She ran her fingers through her spiky black hair, already wet and sweaty. "Gonna cum in Carrie's mouth? Want Carrie to suck that seed? Tell me, tell Carrie—"
With a contortionist's upward, circular twirl of her hips, she took him there. As soon as his eyes rolled upwards, she was on the move again, unsheathing him just in time for her wet mouth to descend on his cock.
When the depth charge exploded in her throat, she swallowed his manjuice like a pro, her soft hands tugging at his balls to extract every drop. When the gangster was spent, she pulled back, sitting on her shapely haunches, and wiped her mouth.
"The best, Jack! You're the best—"
***
Five players remained. David's first ever World Series tournament, and he was in the final five! How the hell had that happened? Okay, the entry numbers had been surprisingly small. With the Main Event scheduled to start the next day, that was no surprise.
Even so, there had been some quality in a field consisting primarily of Internet players. Three of them were in the final five.
Helmut had gone earlier, after ridiculously wearing a soldier's uniform and announcing he'd soon be on his way to Afghanistan to 'entertain' the American troops. Someone who couldn't 'even spell poker', of course, had knocked him out. How often had the worst loser in poker used that line?
Phil Ivey and Jennifer Harman had been knocked out, too, both the victims of bad beats. Harman's pocket rockets had actually been cracked by Six-Two. And then there was the impressive Amarillo Slade -- the old timer had just failed to make the final table.
And yet, here was David, in the last five? It was unbelievable; maybe Reagan's visit had brought him luck?
His keen gaze circled the table and took in his four opponents. Chris Moneymaker held the chip lead, glowing with the confidence of someone who was beginning to re-establish himself. The barren spell he'd endured since winning the 2003 Main Event was slowly becoming a distant memory.
The remarkable veteran, Doyle Brunson, was second in chips. At his age, too! The seventy-two year old was a phenomenon and it was such a privilege to be playing at the same table. David Sterak competing with Texas Dollie! It was an impossible dream, come true.
David was roughly equal in chips with the other two players. Erik Seidel was generally recognised as one of the best players never to have won the Main Event, though he had finished second to Johnny Chan in 1988. In 2008, he'd finished in the same position in the Aussie Millions Main Event.
The intriguing personality in the final five, notwithstanding the credentials of the others, was the blonde woman. Like David, Jessica Willoughby was new to the poker scene. Rumour around the table was that Johnny Chan had coached her, but no one really knew. But it wasn't simply her background that had all eyes trained on the thirty-two year old.
The impressive wraparound deep, black sunglasses made it impossible for opponents to study her eyes. But it wasn't the sunglasses that were her key weapon. It was her magnificent breasts. Dressed in her trademark black, the attractive woman was braless. With a button too far undone, the sensual swell of her impressive cleavage was constantly on display. And clearly, her high jutting tits needed no form of artificial support.
Many an opponents' concentration had been broken throughout the day. What else could be expected with that deep cleavage, and the outline of her pointed breasts? David had been no exception. Since reaching the final table, he'd regular found himself caught up in the spell cast by those mouth-watering tits. She knew it, too!
With the restart seconds away, he pushed the image away. His concentration needed to be total - should either he or Jessica win, they'd be creating history. No other player had achieved a win in their first WSOP event. Not to David's knowledge, anyway.
The beautiful blonde's play had shown she was capable. David was determined to show he was, too. With just an average slice of luck.
He glanced across the table. Darn! Concentrate, you fool! But Jessica's magnificent breasts were even more impressive than they'd appeared throughout the day. Or was he just feeling horny? Last night's encounter with Reagan was playing on his mind. He may have just stopped himself from being unfaithful to Natalie. But in his mind—
His gaze returned to the blonde. Her nipples were pushing through the deliberately thin material of her black blouse. Geez!
Eventually drawing his eyes upwards, he met her smile. Darn! Her dark glasses hid her eyes, but in that instant he knew she'd been watching him. Advantage Jessica Willoughby, he thought, trying to draw his gaze away. No wonder she'd enjoyed such a good tournament. It was so hard to stay focused when that woman was around.
"You okay?" she smiled at him, keeping t
he pressure on. The way she leant back in the chair accentuated the outline of her swells against her black silk blouse.
David couldn't prevent his eyes from following the movement. They both knew it. "I'm good," he responded, trying to keep it casual.
"You're usually quiet when you play," she mysteriously added.
"Usually?"
"When we've played together."
"Played together?"
The blonde laughed. "You're doing a parrot impression, David."
"Parrot?"
Her laugh grew louder and the blush that'd crept up on him earlier deepened in colour. She had him by the short and curlies.
"We haven't played together, have we?" How could they? This was his first tournament. And he would have remembered her from one of his cash games back in London.
One blonde eyebrow coolly raised itself. "We qualified together," she explained. "Surely you remember?"
The light went on in David's mind. They'd played at the same table a few times on the internet. And in the final qualifying event that had led David here. "You'reHitWoman?" he gasped.
"Mm-Kaitlyn," she laughed, raising the sunglasses so that they rested on the top of her long, wavy tresses. "And you're Desperado!"
***
Despite his gruff exterior, Samson had treated Natalie well. He hadn't needed to take her over to his club and personally show her around the place. It made her feel special. She'd never previously been in such powerful company and she had to admit it was an aphrodisiac.
This was the man who held the key to her future success and she'd do anything to please him. If that meant fucking him every day of her three month contract, she'd do it willingly. She'd meant what she'd told him.
Standing on stage, introducing herself to the audience, their session seemed a long time ago. She was as nervous as she'd ever been in her life. "Hi, my name's Natalie. I'm here to sing for you," were simple words, but once spoken, she had to perform. That was the scary piece.
And yet, the rehearsal's had gone well. The unexpected resident band had surprised her with their ability to pick up on her music. They were so natural, it was as if they'd been playing country acid house forever. It had all appeared so simple, so straightforward this afternoon.
It didn't now!
When Marissa, Daryl and Kaitlyn arrived halfway through her first song, she was wondering whether she could make it. Her knees were trembling and her voice was hesitant. Their arrival changed all that.
Her sister's beaming face told Natalie all she needed to know - Marissa was about to make it in the big time. Samson had promised that to her, too, but it was important to her that she proved her worth. She returned the smile as she sang, her eyes acknowledging the friendly wave from Kaitlyn and Daryl. The butterflies began to recede. This was her time!
"Okay," she shouted into the mic as she began her second song. "Want to join in? Raise those hands and clap—"
Hands raised above her head, the crowded club mimicked her. She'd deliberately included Power in the Blood this early to get the audience into her music. It was perfect for the occasion.
If only she'd worn her usual sexy gear. She'd thought of that, but somehow Vegas had demanded something different. More refined, she'd thought, though looking around her, she realised her jeans, camisole and waistcoat would have been perfect. Still, the white halter neck dress was good, too. It hugged her curves and made her feel special.
If the way she was dressed was different to normal, her moves weren't. They were what made her who she was.
She held the mic out to allow the crowd to join in from time to time, even though few of them knew the words. They would when she was famous! Clapping her hands, she swayed her hips with each heavy beat. This was her, owning the stage, pacing from one side to the other. It may have been an American audience, but they reacted the same as at home.
Every so often, she turned her back to the crowd and rotated her ass, legs spread wide, arms stretched high above her head. It was her trademark and it sent the place into a frenzy. The crowd picked up on her moves, swaying and bouncing in time with the beat of the music and sway of her perfectly formed derriere.
She chose Monday Don't Mean Anything as an encore and the audience roared, committed believers. Those who'd been seated at the start of the performance had been on their feet for some time, joining the rest of the crowd who'd been standing throughout.
Marissa, Kaitlyn and Daryl were on their feet, too, with the normally placid photographer unexpectedly putting his fingers between his teeth and whistling loudly. Others followed. The reception was overwhelming, way beyond her wildest dreams.
Her sister joined her minutes after she came off stage, Kaitlyn and Daryl too. "Wonderful," the Agency owner told her. "Quite wonderful. One talented sister is remarkable. Two are outstanding."
"Thanks so much," Natalie beamed, still high on adrenalin. "I appreciate you both coming out to watch me."
"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," Kaitlyn smiled, pushing a hand through her silken hair. Her beaming face turned to Marissa. "Though I'm afraid it's time for Daryl and I to make our way back. We've a heavy schedule tomorrow, Marissa. We won't be starting 'til the afternoon, but will be working late. Hope you're up for it, honey?"
Marissa's face was alive with excitement. The news of her contract, the wonderful dinner, Natalie's performance, and the excitement of the moment all shooting through her like a drug. "You bet," she replied, her dreamy eyes smiling into her new employer's. "I can't wait, Kaitlyn."
"Neither can we," the Agency owner told her with a smile. "Right, Daryl?"
The photographer nodded, holding his hand like a gun. "I'll be shooting you all day!" he joked.
***
"So, welcome to my club," Big Jack told Carrie, sweeping his arm around the busy dancing area. The bar was doing a heavy trade and all of the tables close to the stage were occupied. "You're up for a session, tonight? Show me what you're made of?"
Carrie laughed aloud and batted her eyes at the gangster. "Why, Jack, I thought I'd being doing that for the last couple of hours."
The thickset man laughed too, enjoying the joke. "Think of that as an audition," he gruffly said, eyeing her breasts. "There'll be a few more before I confirm you as a permanent acquisition to Midnight Hot.
"Jack," she told him, turning and running her eyes around the club floor. The place wasn't as sophisticatedly decorated as Samson Smith's, but the images of dancing girls all around the walls did have a certain sexiness to it.
She swung back to Big Jack. "You can audition me as often as you want, honey. In fact, I'll be expecting it." It wasn't just the sex, she told herself, how else would she be able to discover what was going on?
The gangster laughed again, straightening his tie in that film star way of us. Suddenly, one of the hands was on her ass, pawing the bottom so superbly outlined in her sprayed on jeans. Close his eyes and he could still see her naked, peachy ass. Not to mention those tits.
"Well think of this as an audition, too," he slyly said, nodding at the redhead gyrating on stage. "Get changed and get your ass up there with Reagan. Show me what the two of you can do together."
***
Play had been cagey since the restart. None of the remaining players were willing to take too many risks at this point. Not with a WSOP bracelet riding on it.
Things changed an hour after the break. Erik Seidel lost a big pot to give Doyle Brunson a small chip lead over Moneymaker. It left Seidel dangerously low in chips. David expected them to go into the middle next hand, but to the table's surprise, his raise accounted for only half of his stack.
With pocket Jacks, David put him all-in. It was inevitable.
Moneymaker and Brunson quickly folded. From the rueful smile on Seidel's face, David knew that after Jessica folded, he'd be a strong favourite to win the hand.
Jessica didn't fold. Her softly announced, "All-in," took everyone by surprise.
David's deep sigh conveyed his frust
ration. This was a tournament changing decision—doubling up would give him a comfortable chip lead. Calling and losing would all but put him out.
Pushing his chair back, he looked across at Jessica as she eased herself back in her seat. The move gave him an unrestricted view of her breasts. Damn her! Being aware of her concentration-breaking tactic didn't make it any easier to avoid it. As much as he tried to focus, her twin peaks and the nipples that pushed against the thin material were dominating his mind and thoughts.
He suddenly laughed. Maybe her hard little buds were some sort of tell?
"Something amusing you?" she gently asked, one eyebrow raising above the frame of her deep sunglasses.