“Nope,” he responds, opening and closing the drawers of his desk. At last, he extracts a pack of cards, drops it on the coffee table in front of me and, unbuttoning his suit jacket, drops into a seat. “Let’s play.”
“No offense, but I’m not sure if this is challenging enough.” I’m playing with fire, but I want to see how far I can push him.
“Sit.” His tone doesn’t leave space to complain, so I do as he says. “We can up the stakes. I’m guessing there’s only so much money you can take from me before it gets boring.”
A chuckle breaks free. “You’re guessing correctly. Dare I ask how you plan to up the stakes?”
“Strip poker.”
“Strip poker?” My eyebrows shoot up.
“Yes.” He shuffles the deck of cards in his hands before dealing them.
“Strip poker it is.” Heat pools low in my core, the promise of what’s to come wreaking havoc on my hormones. “But we should play Five Card Draw.” The simple variant makes more sense than Texas Hold’em. He agrees, dealing us each five cards.
I win the first hand, and he slips the suit jacket off his shoulders, placing it neatly onto the couch. He’s still fully dressed, but the crisp white shirt hugs his arms and chest in a way that’s distracting. It’s probably what makes me lose the second hand. Other than my shoes, I have only one piece of clothing on me, so I need to play it smart. With slow and painful precision, I slip one strap of my dress down my arm. Nothing’s showing, but from Leon’s sharp intake of breath, it had the outcome I wanted. Drunk with power, I win the next two hands. Leon loses his belt, slipping it out of its loops. The sound sends shivers down my body. Next up are the buttons on his shirt. He unbuttons them one by one, revealing planes of tan skin, smattered with dark hair. My mouth waters.
Distracted once again, I lose the next hand and drop the other strap, holding my dress up with my upper arms. Incidentally, it also pushes my breasts out, right in the line of Leon’s vision. His eyes are hooded, practically hypnotized as I watch him swallow.
“We playing?” I ask, leaning forward to torture him some more.
He snaps out of his trance, glancing up. His pupils are blown wide, the hunger in them evident. “Want to make a bet?”
A thrill runs through me, and I nod.
“If I win the next hand, I get you for the night. One night of me owning your body. Of me doing anything I want to you.”
His dominating tone shoots straight to my core. I shift in my seat, trying to find some release, unsuccessfully. “And if I win?” I croak out, my voice shaky with desire.
“You get whatever you want.”
I wet my bottom lip, giving it some thought. “Whatever I want? What if I want your credit card for a day? No limits and no questions asked.”
On a low chuckle, he extracts his wallet and drops a card on the small table, right next to the cards. “Keep it.”
My eyes widen as I stare at the black card in front of me. It seems silly that this little piece of plastic could buy you a luxury car. “It was a joke.”
“No, it’s a bet.” With his drink in his hand, he leans back in his chair. “Besides, do you have any idea how hard it makes me to imagine you spending my money?”
I gulp, audibly gulp at his words. My panties are officially a mess, and my nipples are running the fabric of my dress ragged, fighting for attention. “Let’s see who’ll win then.” I try to convey confidence I don’t feel. His whole reaction pushed me off my axis. It’s not about the money; I have enough to live a financially comfortable life. It’s about trust. This man, who needs to control every aspect of his life, is willing to let go of it for me. The feeling is intoxicating, blurring my mind more than the vodka inside my cocktail glass.
He deals the hand while my eyes focus on the veins in his forearms and deft moves of his fingers. I’m fucked. Figuratively and literally. And I’m not sure I mind. If he’s willing to give up control, I want to do the same for him. I want to see what he would do if all bets were off. Because one thing’s for sure, he would make it good for me.
I check my cards and notice a set of Kings right out of the gate. In one-on-one games, it’s a massive hand that almost guarantees my win. I nibble my lower lip while desire drowns out my competitiveness, and I discard two out of three Kings from my hand. My new hand is far inferior, and he wins easily.
“I guess you won.” I shrug, trying to play off my excitement. This is the happiest I’ve ever been tolose a hand.
“I guess I did.” He stares at me for a moment before buttoning his shirt back up, and rising from the chair. “Let’s go.”
“What?” I ask as he reaches a hand out to me.
“I don’t have nearly enough space here for what I have planned.”
I release a nervous chuckle. “Should I be scared?”
“I don’t know. Are you?” He moves a strand of hair from my face, placing it behind my ear. The simple touch prickles my skin.
“No, I’m not.” I say around the lump in my throat. I’m not scared. Not of him.
