“I’m not asking you to tell me what to do,” I whisper. Reaching out, I wrap an arm gently around her and place my palm against the curve of her hip. “Pretend you’re me,” I say softly. “What would…” I trail off, looking over at her. “What’s your name?”
She flicks her tongue out across her ruby red lips, and my cock twitches.Jesus.
“Rebecca,” she whispers. “But please, call me Bex.”
I tug her a bit closer. Her hip collides with my leg and she giggles. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard… a fucking lot, given my profession and experience. My hand wraps closer against her hip, and I whisper to her, “Is this okay?”
Look, I may be an adult film star, producer, director, whatever… but consent is a big fucking thing for me. It’s a big fucking thing in myindustry, and whether everyone acknowledges it, it’s always important to me, and I will always–always–ask.
Bex looks at me quickly, nodding, but she glances across the entire high limit room afterward, her gaze lingering on the pit boss.
I might have her consent, but her boss might have other ideas.
Glancing down at the table, I take a quick inventory of my chips. I’m up now, probably by $5,000, which, in the grand scheme of things, isn’t that much. Emerson is shuffling another shoe, and I squeeze Bex’s hip a bit.
Turning toward her, I whisper, “What time did you say you’re off again?”
She bites her lip—this fucking woman and her plump, ruby red lips, fuck—and dips her head before saying, “I’m off at 1.”
I lift my left wrist and glance at my watch—it’s 12:45 am. Turning back to her, giving her another squeeze, I say, “Wait for me?”
Her eyes flash toward me, that emerald gaze, and I can see her swallow.Hard. Look, if you’ve been in my industry, you know when someone is swallowing, and to what extent. My cock goes from twitching to rock-fucking-hard in my jeans.
“Okay,” she whispers. That smile, those lips… those thighs… I want to get between all of it. I pause for a moment, trying to think from her point of view. She doesn’t even know who I am beyond my first name. But I want to get to know her, and I want her to know me, too.
“We can… go somewhere else,” I whisper. “For a drink. Get to know each other.” She. Bites. That. Lip. And I swear.Fuuuuuuck.
“Sir?” Emerson prompts me, and I snap my attention back to the table, shooting daggers in his direction. Bex slips away from my side as the dealer shrugs at me. I’m sure he’s used to this kind of distraction at his table.
Taking inventory of my hand and the dealer’s once more, I wave my hand to stay. The other guy at the table groans, like I’ve made the worst choice in the world. And, honestly, in the high limit room, maybe I did. Maybe I just lost myself ten grand. But, glancing across the room, where Bex is slipping her little portfolio of tables and orders toward another server, I realize I don’t give a fuck that I fucked myself or the entire table in this hand. Not a fucking bit.
I wait for Emerson to collect the table’s losses before sliding all of my chips toward him. “Color me up, please.”
The pit boss slides over, nodding toward my chips. “Mr. Brooks, would you like us to cash you out right here, sir?”
I consider it, but it seems too pretentious to be cashed out directly at a table, especially when these other folks will need to visit the cage for their cash. I shake my head. “Not a problem, just give me the smallest amount of chips possible, please.”
“Of course, sir,” the pit boss says, nodding, as Emerson consolidates my chips to just a few. I’m walking away from this table with more money than I sat down with, which usually would have me thrilled. Now? I slide the reduced number of chips into my pocket, glancing around for Bex. My only focus right now is her.
Maybe she’s not out because she’s clocking out? I shake my head as I walk toward the front of the room. Honestly, I’ve never waited for a server before, and I have no idea where she’ll pop out.
I stand up by the host station for a few minutes, glancing at my phone to see I have several missed texts and calls from various industry friends who are in town, but I’m not interested.
“Frank!” a woman calls out as she slips past the heavy red velvet curtain separating the high limit room from the main floor.
Ugh, it’s Caroline. Fucking Caroline. We dated, years ago… we met when she was an actress on one of my sets, long before I got into producing, but she is still under some impression that her pussy has me whipped.
I’m not an asshole, although some of my films might portray me as such. “Car!” I exclaim, meeting her hug halfway.
We’ve barely separated from the hug, as she says, “God, I’ve missed that thick dick of yours!”
I step back, mentally rolling my eyes, but catch a glimpse of a short skirt and brunette waves bouncing away across the main floor.
Fuck. See you later, Caroline.
Chapter 3
Bex
