Double Down (15 page)

“Don’t be yet,” she said with a laugh. “I have a heck of a lot of work to do. I’ve never done all of it on my own.”

“Does that mean you don’t think you can do it?”

She looked at him, at the firm confidence he had in her. Why should he? He barely knew her, in truth. Maybe it was some side effect of his own attitude toward life. He just assumed everyone else would do as well as he expected of himself. She liked the support, but she didn’t know if it was warranted. Time would tell if her bold step meant a future in her dream career or a permanent relegation to the world of steakhouses and Grand Canyon tours.

No. No more doubting.

She loved her work at the gallery. Contemplating the long hours and endless tasks actually felt like a reward, not a burden. She’d kill this show or die trying.

“I can do it,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.”

“Understandable. I’m still proud, though.”

Cass laughed and touched his upper arm, not surprised to find her fingertips trembling as she did. “Who knew? My caveman fighter pilot is a softie.”

He growled, grinning, and rolled on top of her. “Hardly.”

The faint smell of sweat and some spicy deodorant was an unexpected aphrodisiac. With Ryan’s solid weight pressed on top of her, she was back in mind of strong muscles and the fierce, controlled sting of his temper when he’d dressed down those pilots. She liked his understanding and encouragement—appreciated them. She downright
craved
how soft and feminine and sexy he made her feel.

“Uh-oh,” she said as he worked his mouth down toward her breasts. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes. You are.”

“With no one to save me.”

“No one at all.” He flicked his tongue against one exposed nipple, sending a hot shiver down to her belly. His hips settled against hers. The stirring of his renewed erection made her breathless. That she could do that to him made her head spin, all pride and greedy eagerness.

“I think I should be scared, Major.” She rubbed the bristling softness of hair at the back of his head. “I’m not in the least.”

“Oh, but you should be. Now where are those condoms?”

Chapter Seventeen

By the next evening, Ryan was curious as hell. He’d called Cassandra late the night before, and even after more than an hour on the phone, she hadn’t given up the goods. She’d only reiterated her request that he should wear a nice suit and meet her at The Deuce Lounge at CityCenter.

At least she’d picked a classy place, all leather and wood with high-level gaming tables at one end. Weird gold-tone chandeliers reminded him of spiky Tribbles, but they went strangely well with the modern, honeycombed ceiling. The place looked like what a really hip version of Spock would dig for his time off.

He turned back toward the bar he’d been leaning against, tired of keeping his eyes on three different doorways and one wide curtained area—trying to spot Cassandra. The bartender was giving him a nasty look, probably because Ryan took up valuable space and had only ordered a Coke. Since he had no idea what Cassandra had planned, he wanted to be sharp.

He tugged at the knot of his tie. He wasn’t used to wearing the damn things, not having much occasion for formal attire other than his uniform. Never had in all his life.

A ridiculous attack of nerves clenched his stomach. He wasn’t above admitting that he liked control. Every bit of his life was ordered. On track. Yet here he was, waiting on Cassandra’s whim. Obeying blindly.

For fuck’s sake, the woman could lead him off a cliff by his hard-on and he’d willingly go. Then thank her for the privilege.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

“I’m sorry, but yes—” The words tangled in his mouth as he turned. It was Cassandra…but not.

She wore a slinky burgundy dress cut halfway down to her navel. The inside curves of her breasts were bare and just begging to be touched. Something about her makeup was different, her eyes dark and smoldering. Her lips glistened with a deep red color. She’d even done something to her hair so that it tumbled around her shoulders in loose waves like a ’40s starlet.

He leaned one arm on the bar, the better to angle toward her. “No, go right ahead.”

In a feat of sexy wiggling, she managed to slide up onto the seat. She leaned forward to signal the bartender, giving Ryan a prime view of the back of the dress—or the lack of it. The low-cut front had nothing on the slash that plummeted almost all the way to her ass. The tender divots at the base of her spine caught shadows.

“I’m Cassandra. What’s your name?”

“Ryan.”

“Are you visiting Vegas?” Her voice was smoky, every syllable sleek.

So that was her game. A stranger pickup. Christ, that was hot. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she plucked the idea straight from the darkest corners of his brain.

He should tell her to stop. That they didn’t need this to enjoy a classy evening on the town—the sort of evening he’d always pictured delighting in a confident, elegant woman. But the launch sequence had already fired. He could no more ask her to put aside the games than he could keep from wanting them. Wanting
more
.

“Yep. In on business.”

She stroked down the lapel of his suit jacket. “That explains why I haven’t met you before.”

“If I’d ever met a lady like you, I’m sure it would have been memorable.”

“Oh, I’m definitely memorable.” Even though she leaned close and stretched up, she didn’t quite speak in his ear. The bar was busy and filled with the chatter of customers, but anyone could hear her. “For five thousand, I’ll give you a night that’ll still get you hard when you’re old and gray.”

Ryan yanked back on reflex, his muscles freezing. She looked back at him with heat in her eyes, her face a perfect mask of sultry control. His gaze tripped over her from head to toe. She couldn’t possibly be serious.

Her façade cracked. A tiny hint of a smile curved her red-painted mouth.

He clenched the edge of the bar with a sudden rush. This wasn’t just a stranger pickup. He was a john and this gorgeous hooker would be his for the night. His mind fogged over the possibilities.

“That price seems steep.”

She scratched a dark red nail over his tie. “I promise I’m worth it.”

“Why don’t you let me pay for your drink and I’ll give you my answer in a minute.”

Cassandra sipped her martini. When she popped the olive into her mouth, she made a deliberate O with her lips. “If you think it’ll take you that long to decide.”

Two dark-suited security guards popped up out of nowhere. One tapped Cassandra on the shoulder. “Miss, you’ll have to leave.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, her eyebrows arched in a regal tilt.

“Such activities are not allowed on casino grounds.”

Ryan snapped to attention. Holy shit hell. Busted. Cold embarrassment turned his spine into a pike.

Totally dropping character, Cassandra giggled. “No, you see, it’s not what you think.”

The taller guard shook his head. “We’re asking you to leave, ma’am. You can go willingly or we can get the police involved.”

“Okay, okay.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ryan. The sparkle in her eyes invited him to join in on the joke.

He wanted to, but it would be much easier once he hustled them out of there. Taking Cassandra by the elbow, he shuffled them outside to the sidewalk. Hot spring air tickled at the back of his collar.

“I can’t believe we got busted.
I
got busted.” Cassandra was full-out laughing, looking back toward the guards who’d followed them all the way out. “They actually thought I was a call girl.”

Ryan shook his head. Now that they were back among anonymous crowds, he could relax. No one had asked for his name. There’d been no threat to his real life. The adrenaline left over from that scare only heightened his arousal.

He caught her by the wrist and tugged her near. “Well you do look…unbelievably expensive.”

“Is that right?” She sobered and pushed her lower lip out in a pout. “There’s a reason for that. I
am
expensive, remember?”

“I don’t think I could forget five grand.” His fingers dipped into the back of her dress and grazed over the top curve of her ass. “So how does this work? I’ve never hired an escort before.”

“You just leave everything to me, big boy,” she purred, accentuating the compliment by giving his cock a quick pet.

She led him to a rank of limos but didn’t let him hear what she told the driver. Although Ryan was the john, she was still running the show.

Slipping into the seat of the black-and-chrome limo, he didn’t want to admit how much that bothered him. She’d obviously put a lot of thought into the night. The least he could do was at least
try
to enjoy the ride.

Watching Cass slide into the limo was a treat in itself. The dress gaped ever so slightly to reveal a glimpse of one nipple. The uniformed driver shut the door behind her smartly.

“Since I’m paying, shouldn’t I pick the destination?”

She shook her head and crossed her legs. The slit in her skirt parted along the long length of her pale thigh. The woman was as hot as a jet engine. “Not this time. Later, if you like.”

“How long is it going to take to get there?” His words felt like they were chipped out one by one.

“About twenty minutes. More or less.”

Ryan stretched his arms across the back of the seat and unfurled his legs to their full length. Intimidating, maybe, but he was fine with that. More than fine. Fuck sitting back and enjoying the ride. He couldn’t let it go. If she wanted to be a call girl, she was going to listen to her john.

“Good,” he said, admiring every sleek inch of her. “Get over here. If you’re worth it, you’ll make me come before we get there.”

Wide blue eyes flashed but almost immediately drooped heavily with lust. “You’re the boss, mister.”

She scrambled over the seat until she straddled him. The ankle-length skirt split over her legs and barely covered her pussy. He scooped hands under it to grip her thighs.

The game would dictate no foreplay for hookers. No kissing. She’d do her job and get a dude off. Underneath it all, she was still Cassandra. He wanted to make it good for her.

When Ryan went for her mouth, she shied back. “Not a chance, mister. We’re just here for fucking.”

Goddamn. He hadn’t thought he could get any harder. Was there anything she wouldn’t consider? Was there a limit to what she might accept of his perversion?

No. Don’t think about it tonight.

“Just fucking? I can do that.” He ran his touch up the inside of her thighs until his thumbs met at her hot, slick center. “No panties?”

She linked her fingers around the back of his neck. “They get in the way of business.”

“Holy hell.” He was absolutely raring to go. He delved between her lips to dabble in her wet pussy. “I want you to ride me, sugar.”

The look she flashed from under her lashes was everything smutty and sexy. An absolute minx. “I’ve done a lot worse for five grand.”

She attacked his belt like a woman on a mission, opening his fly and dragging his cock out into the air. The rubber slipped on with fast, efficient moves. She rocked up on her knees. Her clenched fist positioned him at her entrance, lingering there for a second.

Then he was engulfed in her tight, wet sheath. His hands clamped around her hips until a tempting voice whispered in his ear.

“Oh,” she gasped in his ear. “You’ve got the biggest cock of any of my customers. So huge inside me.”

Her words went straight to his head, swirling deep into his brain. Customer. John. She was the hooker who’d only meant to do a job, but she was getting more than she’d expected. He’d give her so much more—an orgasm so shattering that she’d never remember the encounter as an exchange of money for flesh. She’d remember it as the best of her life.

He shoved her skirt until it rucked around her waist. His hips surged up, driving into her. A fast, dirty fuck. Grabbing that tight ass, he grazed his fingertips down her soft cleft, down past the tight pucker of her anus. The spot where they joined was dripping wet. Her lips clung to him on every short thrust.

“God, right there.” She scraped his scalp. “Fuck me hard. Use me.”

His balls smacked the curve of her ass, over and over. He ought to have more finesse but there was nothing. Just blind red lust. The tight clench of her cunt over his throbbing cock. The grind of their hips.

Ryan wrenched a hand into her hair, pulling so that her face bent up toward the ceiling of the limo. Her throat was a glowing white column. He set his mouth there, overcome by the need to mark her. Claim her—this wicked whore. He grazed his teeth over her skin and bit roughly when that wasn’t enough.

She shuddered and he felt it all the way down to his cock. He plunged in and out of her. Urgent. Ruthless.

Bracing her hands flat against the roof of the limo, she kept chanting the whole time. Begging for his dick. Asking him to fuck her harder. This was more than a game and less at the same time. It was access to some broken part of himself that reveled in his depravity.

His orgasm grabbed him out of nowhere, tingling through his balls and slamming out in a hot surge. Ryan buried his face between her tits. “Fuck Christ, yes,” he growled against her skin.

Thrusting one last time, he pressed his fingers over her clit. Cassandra’s pussy cinched down on him as she bowed her back. She tunneled her fingers into his hair, panting, gasping, until her body went rigid.

Only then did Ryan feel his heartbeat thumping at triple time. His breathing, choppy and super-speedy, washed across her chest and back at him. He was a fucking mess.

Cassandra didn’t seem to mind. Her arms wrapped around his head then petted down his back. Holy hell, he was still totally dressed in his suit.

A lazy hum rolled up her throat. “If you always fuck like that, mister, I have no idea why you’re paying for it.”

A surprising laugh shook his shoulders. “Maybe because you promised me you were worth it.”

“And?” She curved a hand under his jaw and pulled his face up. Her kiss was feather soft, but only until she traced across the seam of his lips with her tongue. Her makeup remained flawless. “Was I?”