Luscious Craving (22 page)

Without warning, he fisted his fingers in my hair, bringing my head back even as he brought his down. He turned my head, urged my mouth to his for an openmouthed kiss, his tongue thrusting deep. I sucked it in, holding it prisoner with my teeth and heard him make a quickly cutoff sound. He released me and, as I dropped my head forward, back onto my arms, I pressed my ass more firmly against his cock. His hands slid beneath me, seeking my breasts. Still pressing back against him, I raised myself up onto my elbows.

He filled his hands with my breasts, kneading, caressing, stroking, even as he began to rock against me from behind. His fingers danced down my body, seeking the fastening of my pants. He undid the buttons,
then
gave the tight material a quick tug. It slid over my hips, down across my ass, its tight slide only adding to my arousal. The silk of the panties I wore went along for the ride. I felt Michael’s weight withdraw as he drew the pants down my legs and off.
Then the soft
slump
of fabric as they hit the floor.
A moment later I heard the sound of his belt hissing through its loops, the high whine of a zipper. My back still to him, I got to my knees, pulled the shirt I wore over my head. But when I went to unfasten the front clasp of the bra, I felt the return of Michael’s weight on the bed. He put his hands over mine,
then
pulled me back against him, filling his hands with my silk-clad breasts.

I could feel his shirt as it pressed against my back. But his cock was naked, pulsing against my rump. Slowly, his hands still at my breasts, he eased me forward until I rested on my elbows once more. With one hand, he reached to pull several pillows down from the head of the bed, tucking them beneath me for support. His fingers stroked the length of my naked ass, broadening my stance, tilting me up. And then he was gripping my ass tightly with both hands, drawing his breath in one long inhalation as he pushed his cock slowly, slowly inside me.

I pressed my face down against my hands, tilting my pelvis up still higher.
Deep, go deeper, Michael
, I thought. I felt one of his hands release my hip, move around to stroke my clit. And then he began to ride.

I felt the world narrow to the sensations in that room. Nothing else existed.
Nothing else at all.
The feel of my face, pressed against my own hands. The soft slap our bodies made as Michael moved inside me.
His hand at my clit, a wild spiral of sensations, coiling tighter and tighter.
I heard him make just one guttural sound, and then his body went rigid, arcing forward. Deep inside me, I felt him come. I held myself still, muscles clenched around him. Felt the way he pulsed and shuddered. His head dropped forward, forehead resting on the back of my neck, even as his hand continued to stroke.

And then, almost before I realized what he was doing, he was pulling back, turning me around.
Sliding me toward the edge of the bed, parting my legs, even as he knelt on the floor.
He put his mouth on me then, stroking down, hard with his tongue.
Across my clit, then thrusting deep inside me, just as he had thrust his cock.
I felt my body spasm up. He held me there, pelvis raised above the bed, while his tongue continued to delve and stroke. As if my body was a feast and he could not get enough.

On a choked-back cry, I came, hands grasping at the bedspread, even as Michael continued to use his mouth. I dragged in great, burning
lungfuls
of air, as my body seemed to tumble through space, and still he did not stop. I felt the second orgasm rip through me.
My body, a wordless arc of pleasure, literally incapable of sound.

The second my body relaxed, Michael released me, joined me on the bed, pulling me up to its head to take me in his arms. I let him move me, limp as a rag doll, utterly sated. He pressed a deep kiss to my mouth and I tasted my own flavor.

“Well,” I murmured when I could finally speak. “I don’t think I’m nearly as tense as I was.”

I felt the laughter quiver through his belly, knew he was fighting to hold back the sound.

“I’m so pleased to hear you say that,” he whispered.

“I’ll just bet you are.”

Without warning, a strange buzzing filled the room.

“Damn,” Michael exclaimed aloud as he sat up. “That’s my cell. It’s probably my call to go back down.”

“It’s either great timing or lousy,” I said, as I watched him slide from the bed to retrieve the phone from his pants’ pocket. “Depending on what else you had in mind.”

“Just hold that thought,” he said, as he flipped open the cell.
“Pressman.”
He listened, briefly. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll be right down.” He snapped the phone shut, began to pull on his scattered clothing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That really is my call.”

“What’s to be sorry about?” I asked, as I scooted off the bed and began to dress. “We knew you didn’t have much time.
Outstanding use of it, by the way.
I forgot all about Josh.”

Michael caught me to him then, for a quick, hard kiss. “You know what?” he said quietly. “In addition to your many other sterling attributes, you are pretty damned understanding.”

“Just so you appreciate me,” I said.

He kissed me again. “You know it. In fact, I have a little something for you.”

“Not
that
again,” I said, and made him laugh out loud.

He dug in his back pants’ pocket, pulled out a key card. “Actually, it’s this,” he said. “It will give you access to any door in the suite.” He gave a nod at the far corner of the room.
“In particular, that one.
It opens directly onto the hall. You can come and go whenever you like without having to worry about the menagerie out there. Everybody knows this room is strictly off limits. It’s mine and mine alone.”

He took a step closer when I hesitated. “I’d really like to keep seeing you, Candace, but it’s going to be tough with all my friends around. If I had known I was going to meet you, I never would have agreed to them camping out in my suite. As it is, this is the best that I can offer. I’m really hoping you’ll say yes. I know you could get into trouble.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” I said. “So, yes, thanks. I’d like to keep seeing you, too.”

I took the card.

“Excellent,” Michael said. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I should probably go down first, don’t you think?”

“I do think,” I said. “I should do one more work-related thing anyhow. You’ll let me know when you get a
break?
”

“Absolutely,” he nodded. He gave me one last, swift kiss, his eyes grinning down into mine.
“For luck.”

Then he let himself out into the hall. I gave him a couple of minutes,
then
left the suite myself. As long as I was still in the casino, it was high time I handled the item that should have been number one on my to-do list: a trip to the IT department.

A buzzer sounded the second I stepped through the door of the IT center. I held up my ID badge, and a guard nodded at me to sign in at the counter. The place was as sterile as an operating room. Everything that wasn’t white was glass or steel. A coffeepot was half-full. I picked it up and sniffed. The coffee smelled a bit overcooked; I filled a Styrofoam cup and added a generous hit of sugar.

“Can I help you?” The voice was so deep that I looked up, expecting to see someone the size of a linebacker behind the counter.

Instead, the man standing there brought Deputy Barney Fife to mind. He was thin, and not much taller than I am. He wore a long white coat, the pockets of which bulged with wires. An upper pocket held a pocket protector with several expensive-looking gold and silver pens. Behind dark-rimmed glasses, his eyes were intelligent and anxious.
The classic geek.

“Are you Chet McGuire?” I asked, even though I could read his ID tag with his name and title of
it security supervisor.

“I am,” he nodded. “How can I help you?”

I stuck out my hand. “Candace Steele, security,” I said.

“Candace Steele,” he mused. “Employee number 65-9857, hired—”

“Hey, that’s information I don’t usually share until at least the second date.”

He stared at me for a moment,
then
said, “Oh, you’re joking.” A buzz came near my right ear.
A fly?
Then I realized the high-pitched sound was in both ears.

“Do you hear a buzz?”

He cocked his head. “No.”

Either he was used to the annoying sound or couldn’t hear it.

“Do you mind answering a few questions?” I asked after taking a sip of the coffee. It tasted like sludge, but it was sludge with caffeine and sugar, and I needed both.

“I’ll answer what I can.” He glanced at the glass window that showed the computer servers being taken care of by other white-coated attendants. “Al told me a couple of days ago that you might stop in.”

I nodded. “I need to know about the kind of surveillance we do in the casino.
High Tech 101.
No buzzwords.
Just the basic facts.”

“Okay, the basics.” He folded his arms on the counter. “As you know, almost every inch of the
Sher
is under surveillance. There are cameras in all the public spaces, and they’re monitored 24/7. The people who work the monitoring room have a minimum of two years’ experience on the casino floor overseeing games, so they’ve learned what the usual scams are. It’s the unusual ones that make them earn their pay.”

“And these computers?”
I hooked a thumb toward the glass.

“They’re used for everything from directing the cameras in random patterns to gathering information and crunching it to detect any aberrations.”

“Such as a table where the house loses more than the averages show.”

“Exactly.
When we see something like that, the croupier will be monitored—discreetly—until we learn if it’s the laws of chance throwing us a curve or if there’s something funny going on.”

“So if someone tries to pull a con—”

“We’ll be on him right away.” He smiled.
“Under normal conditions.”

“What do you mean?” I took another sip from my cup.

“These cameras for the tournament—”

“How can they be a problem? There’re only a few guys, and they’re carrying the cameras on their shoulders.”

“Not those cameras.
The ones in the tables.”

“I didn’t know there were cameras in the tables.”

He poured himself the rest of the sludge and pulled a box of doughnuts out from under the counter and opened it. “Have you ever watched poker shows on TV? They have little eyeball cameras set into the tables. That allows the viewers and the commentators to see what hole cards each player has, the cards they’ve got that the other players can’t see.”

“I don’t see how those can be a problem either.” I picked out a glazed doughnut.

“Those small cameras require special wiring and monitoring.
A pain in the butt when we’re busy with the holiday crowds.”

“Does that mean it’s easier for someone to pull a scam now?”

“Not exactly, there’s just more that we have to keep track of.”

I thought of Josh and his interest in the cameras.

“And the cameras themselves, the TV and news
cameras,
couldn’t be used to somehow affect the outcome of the game?”

Chet munched thoughtfully on his doughnut. “I don’t see how.”