Laughing, I shook my head. She was so fucking adorable sometimes.
“What’s wrong? Is the big bad biker afraid I’ll kick his ass?”
Not even a little bit. “Poker will take too long, and I want you naked now. How about war?”
We negotiated and ended up playing war for clothes and drinks. High card won, low card had to shed a piece of clothing and take a swig of beer. Winner would be awarded the ultimate prize, which was yet to be determined. We began. She won the first round, I won the second. By the eighth hand, I realized she was wearing two pairs of socks. She lost the ninth round and tugged off her shirt to reveal the sexy little red slip I’d asked her to wear.
Goddamn cheater. Truth be told, I was impressed. “Just how many clothes did you put on, darlin’?”
“Are you asking if I planned this?” she asked. “If I… cheated by wearing the slip you asked me to wear?”
“You got a lot more clothes on than that slip,” I noted.
“I was cold.” She shrugged. “Flip.”
We flipped over the next set of cards and I lost my pants and took a drink. I was down to my T-shirt, cut, and boxers while Emily still had her slip, bra, panties, jeans, and one sock to go.
Her gaze drifted up my now bare legs to my boxers, where things were starting to get a little chubby. I gave myself a couple of strokes through the thin material for her benefit. “Like what you see, babe?”
She grinned. “Yes. I very much like the sight of myself winning. Flip.”
I took off my cut and folded it over the back of the sofa.
“Flip.”
She lost her fourth and final sock.
“Flip.”
Emily stood, pinched her zipper, and slowly slid her jeans down, wiggling her fine ass as she went. Then she turned around, giving me an eyeful of lacy panties before setting her jeans beside my cut and letting the red slip fall into place. The front of my boxers stood out like a tent in response.
“You’re gonna pay for that, sweet cheeks,” I said.
“Nope.” She settled back onto her seat. “I’m going to win, and then I’m going to make you pay. Flip.”
Holy shit I needed to win, because I wanted to put my cock right into that sassy mouth of hers. Instead, I lost my shirt.
“Down to your boxers, huh?” she asked, her gaze raking over my chest. “How… unfortunate for you. Flip.”
She got low card, so she hooked her fingers behind her back, slid down the straps and removed her bra, tossing it on the sofa. All without removing the slip
“This could go either way, you know?” I asked.
She sauntered her exquisite derriere over to the fridge and grabbed us each another beer.
Next, she lost her panties.
We were each down to one article of clothing and had split a six-pack in a matter of maybe fifteen minutes. We both flipped over the final card. I had a jack of spades, and she, very appropriately, had a queen of hearts.
Her gaze turned downright predatory as she checked me out. “Take off the boxers, Tyler,” she demanded.
I slowly slid them down, stroking myself a couple of times for good measure.
“Sit down,” she said. “And keep your hands off the merchandise. To the winner goes the spoils.”
Emily used my belt to strap my hands to the back of the chair. I let her do it, which surprised the hell out of me. Truth was, I trusted her far more than I’d ever trusted any woman. Hell, I trusted her like I trusted Havoc or Wasp. And, if my being tied up was what she wanted, so fucking be it.
Still, old habits die hard, so I flexed and made sure I could break free of my bonds if I needed to. I could, but didn’t bother telling Emily.
