He’s playing poker, yet his focus is on me. I like it far more than I’d like to admit. But that’s why he pays to be a member, right? He could gamble anywhere in this town but chooses to pay an exorbitant amount of money to gamblehere.
I’m feeling bold as I play with the lapel of his jacket. I’m not sure what I want, or should it be more about what he wants because he’s paying?
I clear my throat and look down at him. “And how long have you been coming here?” I ask.
It sounds petulant to my own ears like I’d possibly be jealous of this stranger being with other women—Omegas—before me.What is wrong with me?Maybe I’mnotcut out for this. I never thought of myself as a possessive person, but then again, I’d never had a reason to be.
“My membership is new,” he responds, to my relief.
“What do you do for work?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.
“I’m the vice president of an importing business,” he answers.
“Oh, what do you import?”
“Expensive things,” he replies with a smirk.
His answer is vague at best, but I suppose he owes me nothing.
He shifts me on his thigh like I weigh nothing, and I don’t miss the undeniable press of his hard cock when he shifts me.
It makes me feel powerful and wanted, making me perfume again.
His hand leaves the poker table to slide up my bare thigh. His nails are manicured, and the veins on his hands are stark against his skin.
It’s like I’m cocooned in his scent. Both his hands are wrapped around me as he leans in to speak to me.
“Would you like for me to take care of this ache, mo stór?”
I swallow, drowning in his scent, as I nod my head.
Wait, no.
Leisha always negotiated before she let one of the men touch her or she touched them.
My fingers wrap around his wrist, drawing his hand closer to my pussy, and I regret not wearing thicker underweartonight because I’m more than likely leaving a mess on his very expensive pants.
“How badly would you like to touch?” I whisper, not even knowing if he’s playing poker anymore or what anyone else around us is doing.
“Two thousand,” he replies.
“To finger me?” I sputter back in shock.
“Five thousand,” he retorts, and I swallow.
His eyes meet mine, and my scent goes mad. Five thousand fucking dollars for him to touch me, nothing else in return.
“Okay,” I rasp out.
He goes to slide his hand up my skirt, and I finally take in my surroundings. Sure, people do things publically in the club, and I’ve gotten semi-used to it, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.
His fingers tap the side of my ass twice, indicating for me to get up, and when I do, sure enough, there’s a small circle of slick staining his pants.
He doesn’t even bother looking at the mess I made, or worry about collecting his chips, or about grabbing his cocktail. He takes my hand, dragging me towards the hallway that stems from the entrance. It’s dark and empty, and I don’t let my nerves get the best of me as he presses me up against the wall, one hand at the side of my throat.
Ian doesn’t kiss me, to my chagrin, but instead slides his hand from my hip and up under my dress. His long fingers swipe at the soaked material of my panties.
“So wet. Tell me, Elena, is it me who has you dripping down your thighs, or would any Alpha here have you making this much of a delicious mess?”
