She dealt out hand after hand, immediately calculated the running count, and practiced playing her own hand, all while I had a fucking feast.
Every piece of her was sweet and soft. I filled her with my fingers. With my tongue. I sucked and licked and bit. Her reaction to each new sensation was loud and unashamed.
But she never lost the count.
When I first started working for Valentine, my job was to stand against the wall. It was hazing in the worst way because it was boring as hell. I used to watch the tables and try to count cards as each hand was dealt. I always lost it when something distracted me.
But Amelia . . .
Her hips rocked as she ground against my mouth. Each time she rattled off the new count, her answer was more and more breathless.
“How many windows are in here?” I asked as I broke away from her dripping pussy to breathe.
She didn’t skip a beat. “Four.”
“How many shelves are down in the cellar?”
“Thirty. Six sets of five shelves.”
“What’s the count?”
“Minus three.”
I curled my fingers inside of her and slowly pumped them in and out of her. “Good girl.”
Amelia groaned. “Please let me come.”
“Get through the rest of the deck.”
She growled under her breath, but it was enough motivation to make her speed up.
I fucking loved the way she rocked her hips and slid her cunt up and down my mouth, riding my beard as she shamelessly stole her pleasure.
Each new count was said in an increasingly shaking voice.
She may have been inexperienced, but she wasn’t shy about it. Amelia took what she wanted without feeling the least bit guilty—something I had never managed to do.
Her sexual curiosity wasn’t naïve. It was simply like she had fasted, and now she was ravenous.
I was more than happy to give her everything she wanted to consume.
She stammered through the next two counts as I latched on to her clit and sucked. Still, she managed to keep going.
Part of me wanted to best her. To break her concentration and make her lose the count. I wanted her to be driven absolutely mad with pleasure. I wanted to give her every bit of goodness that I could. I wanted to offer it to her on a silver platter.
The other part of me wanted her to walk onto the casino floor in Las Vegas knowing what an absolute powerhouse she really was.
“Last round,” she rasped as she flipped the remaining cards.
“Don’t stop now, little fox. Soak my beard.”
I felt the tremors racing through her entire body as she neared the end of the deck. She and I both knew the answer when all the cards had been played, but I gave her the satisfaction of whispering “zero” right as she came.
28
AMELIA
Monday, June 2 | 5:48 a.m.
