A damn powerful one.
She wanted to say no, to insist on doing it her way. But he’d taken a hit for her. And he was offering her a way to fall in love with poker again and to win on her terms. He was offering to be there with her, for her, not to own her, but to help her. With every move he made, she was falling harder and harder, and she was sure there’d be no turning back from this man. She’d been so closed-off from the start about letting someone into her world. Now, he was all the way in, and the only thing she was afraid of was him not being part of her world.
So she did the thing she’d never have imagined doing a mere month ago. Hell, a week ago. “Then we have a deal.”
“Good,” he said with a happy, woozy smile as he lay flat on his back, pulling her on top of him, angling up his hips. He was growing hard against her. “Now I’m tired and I’m wounded and I could use a little — ”
She cut him off. “There’s only one true cure for a wounded man,” she said, and went under the sheets. She stroked him to a full erection, then dropped her mouth onto him.
He groaned as she wrapped her lips tightly around his cock. He pushed back the sheets so he could watch her. She looked up at him, wanting him to see the desire in her eyes. His went dark and hazy as he stared at her mouth moving lovingly along his shaft. She tucked her knees up under her, getting into the perfect position for giving him the blow job he deserved.
She let him fall from her lips for a moment, but kept her hand wrapped around him. “Enjoy this. Enjoy everything I’m going to do to you, my gorgeous, sexy, wounded man who rescued me,” she whispered, pushing her other palm on his flat abs, feeling his washboard belly as she returned her mouth to him. She took him in deep, the way he liked, and used her hands too, touching his stomach, squeezing a small, dark nipple, causing him to jerk his hips up hard into her mouth.
She moved her hands lower, down his body, stroking his muscular thighs, settling deeper into the space between his legs. He parted them, giving her room to get cozy, and she thrilled inside at how he gave his body to her, trusting her with his pleasure just as she had with him. She drew him into her warm mouth as far as he could go. She sucked hard and passionately, wanting him to feel flooded with sensations that blotted out any of the lingering pain from the fight. Cupping his balls in one hand, she slipped another hand under his ass, squeezing a cheek hard in her palm.
He groaned loudly in response, and the sound sent heat flowing through her body.
“I’ll take another hit to my head for this,” he murmured, his voice both weary and thoroughly needy. He reached for her head, threading his hands tightly in her hair.
She let go momentarily. “Pull my hair if you need to,” she said.
He gripped hard as she returned to him, tugging her hair over to the side, yanking her head so he could stare hungrily at her face as she licked and sucked the full length of his fantastic cock.
“So fucking gorgeous,” he said, outlining her lips with a finger, tracing the edge of her mouth as she held him tight and deep, swirling her tongue along his shaft the way he loved.
She was sure he groaned louder than he ever had as she worked him over with her hands and her mouth, touching him in all the ways that drove him crazy. His body was a playground for her fingers, and she ran them along his thighs, over his ass, and in that spot just under his balls that drove a man wild. He gave himself over to her, rocking his hips into her mouth as she traveled to his favorite places. A pinch there, a touch here, a squeeze of those sexy cheeks: she was showing him that she knew how to control all his pleasure too. Then, as she gripped his firm ass in her hands, she fucked his cock with her mouth until she felt the shudders roll through his body.
He grappled at her hair, his breathing turning wildly erratic as he gripped her head, thrusting and calling out her name as the taste of his release slid down her throat.
Minutes later, she nestled herself in next to him. With his arm wrapped around her, she kissed his neck, his stubbled jaw, his tender cheek. “You like it when I let you control me, and I like it when you lose control for me,” she whispered.
“Mmmm,” he murmured. “We are a good combo.”
“The best,” she said as she closed her eyes, feeling like they were partners in everything at last.
Another pair of Advil did wonders to mute the throbbing in his skull, but the dull ache was a useful reminder of what he was up against as he pushed open the door to Mr. Pong’s shortly after noon the next day. The smell of fried pork and noodles filled his nostrils. Waiters bustled around delivering plates of pepper steak and lo mein to the lunch crowd.
It was your standard order Chinese restaurant with thick menus and illustrated pictures of the twelve signs of the Chinese New Year— such as horses, snakes and rats, along with an illustrated dragon image presiding over them all.
Fitting, he reasoned, as a hurried waiter rushed over to him.
“One for lunch?”
“No. I’m joining someone. You can tell Mr. Stravinski that I’m here.”
The waiter looked confused. “Sorry. Who should I tell him is here?”
“Tell him the guy he’s expecting to see.”
“Okay,” the waiter said, narrowing his eyebrows briefly at the request before turning on his heels to find the man in charge.
Moments later, a tall man in a sharp suit strode over to him. He had thick, dark hair and muddy-brown eyes and some of the worst teeth Clay had ever seen. He wasn’t thin, he wasn’t fat; he was simply the sturdy type.
He extended a hand to shake.
“Clay Nichols,” he said.
“Charlie Stravinksi. I had a feeling I’d be seeing you. Come,” he said, gesturing grandly to the restaurant as if he were quite proud of the joint he’d taken over on a debt that went belly-up. “There is a table for us near the kitchen.”
“Fantastic,” Clay said coolly, as if this were just another lunchtime business meeting.
After they sat, a waiter handed Clay a menu. “Thank you.”
Charlie tapped the menu. “Everything here is delicious. But may I personally recommend the kung pao chicken,” he said, bringing his fingertips to his mouth and kissing them as a chef does.
“Consider it done,” Clay said, pushing the menu to the side. He had every intention of not only talking to Charlie, but breaking bread with the man. If there was one thing he’d learned in his years as a lawyer, it was that the more you knew about the opposing side, the better off you were. And the less fear you showed, the more likely you’d win the points you wanted. Besides, he had a hunch Charlie was the type of man who would act supremely gentlemanly to a worthy adversary.
Clay planned to be just that.
“So, you messed up the nose of my new guy,” Charlie began, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
“It got in the way of my fist.”
Charlie scratched his neck, as if he were a dog itching fleas. “He shouldn’t have been there. He’s too hot-headed to be on the street.”
“Yeah?”
Charlie shook his head, and blew out a long stream of air. A man frustrated, he placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “Stevie was supposed to give her the message, but he came down with the flu, he claimed,” Charlie said with a scoff.
“I’m guessing that’s the last time he’ll duck out of work for a sick day,” Clay said dryly.
Charlie laughed, throwing back his head and letting loose several deep chuckles. Then he took a deep breath, and the laughing silenced. “What are you here for?”