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“Very well, let’s play. How about strip poker?” Fabio needs a lesson in rule number four: patience is king.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m game.”
Oh, this is going to be too easy. I shuffle, telling him, “Socks and underwear are clothes, but jewelry isn’t.”
“Don’t want to take out that little ball rubbing against your pretty clit?” He smirks.
“Still thinking about that, are you?” I taunt.
“Thinking about it right now,” he says leaning forward in his chair, his eyes full of promise.
“Lose the tie, jacket, vest, and belt,” I order, keeping us on task and my pussy out of this game. “You’re at an advantage with more layers than me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You just making up rules now?”
I bristle. “As a dealer, integrity is everything to me. So no, I wouldn’t make up rules.”
“Easy.” He holds up his hands before he shrugs out of his jacket and removes his tie. Unbuttoning his vest, he discards it, and beneath his white dress shirt, I can make out the outline of a piercing on his right nipple. His hands make quick work of unbuckling his belt, sliding it through the loops. My eyes can’t help but land on the sizable bulge in his pants.
A neck tat, a nipple piercing, and a fat dick? My personal trifecta; what bullshit.
“We’re going to play the fast version—head’s up,” I tell him, forcing myself to focus. “No betting; whoever loses the hand has to take something off.” It won’t take long to teach Fabio his lesson.
We’ve been playing for what feels like hours, and I’m down to my bra and panties, with Fabio wearing the clothes he started in. Dammit, I should have never played without my lucky charm—a cat’s eye gemstone.
He smiles, shuffling and dealing with more finesse than someone who supposedly knows nothing about poker. “Whatcha thinking about, Katerina? I love the ink, by the way.” His eyes land on my spade, heart, club, and diamond tattoo that runs down my right hip, ending at my panty line. “And the belly button ring.” His eyes take an entitled stroll to my navel. “Any other hidden piercings or tats?” he wonders, laughter in his eyes. “Don’t tell me; I’ll find out soon enough.”
Playing it cool, I grab my hand, sorting what could be a winner. Six, seven, eight, two, and ten. “Actually, I was thinking about how a guy like you who knows nothing about poker is suddenly a pro.”
“Beginner’s luck?”
“Lucky guy,” I muse. I’m trained to spot card counting, but Fabio isn’t giving away the telltale signs.
“Very lucky.” His eyes land on my tits.
If he thinks he’s going to rattle me that easily, the man clearly doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Sure, my nipples are hard, but it’s fucking cold in this basement, that’s all. “One card.” I discard my two, praying the poker gods give me a nine.
His eyes land on my pebbled nipples before he pitches me a card. I had no idea I was going to be getting naked tonight in front of mixed company; I’m wearing a less than sexy black cotton bra and panties. Ugh, who gives a fuck what I’m wearing? I’m not trying to impress this guy, I remind myself.
I pick up my card. Yes! A nine!
Fabio discards two cards and deals two more for himself, a frown on his pretty face. He has a five o’clock shadow covering his square chin, making him that much more attractive. Again, it’s bullshit.
I triumphantly lay my cards on the table. “Straight. Take off your shirt.” Finally.
He makes a tsk sound. “Full House.” He lays his cards down and smiles. “Take off your bra.”
I shove away from the table. “You’re hustling me!”
His entire body shakes with laughter.
“You’re cheating! How?” I demand.
“I never heard any rules about cheating,” he tells me with a wry smile. “Are pulling cards from under the table cheating?”
“Fuck you.” I angrily reach for my discarded clothes, pulling my shirt over my head.
“Katerina, wait,” he says softly.
