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She clears her throat, looks past me as she murmurs, “Maybe I’ll see you around the casino sometime?”
Gotcha. I can almost see the handcuffs closing over her delicate little wrists now. “I think that’s probably a safe assumption.”
“Oh, right. Because you own the place.”
“Because I own the place, yes.”
“So I won’t say good-bye, then. Just thanks. And see you later.”
She slips through the door, closes it gently behind her.
And I…I do the only thing I can do considering the current situation. The only thing I can think to do with my cock throbbing in my pants and my brain wrapped up in what I need to do to make Aria mine.
I walk straight across my office and through the door that leads to my personal restroom.
I close the door, shrug out of my suit jacket and unzip my pants.
And then I wrap my hand around my rock-hard dick.
Relief floods me at the first touch, the first stroke. At the knowledge that relief is imminent. And still it isn’t enough, isn’t close to being enough.
Leaning back against the sink, I close my eyes. Keep my strokes long and languid. And think of Aria.
Aria, with her short skirt and fishnet stockings and mile long legs, carrying a tray as she cuts through the high rollers’ area like a general dividing his troops.
Aria, with her lush lips and dark, gypsy eyes laying into that Russian bastard.
Aria, with her tight jeans and lacy blouse sitting in my chair, in my office.
Aria brushing her sweet body against mine.
Aria challenging me.
Aria saying fuck.
Aria.
Aria.
Aria.
It doesn’t take long before I’m coming like a teenager, with a muffled groan and an orgasm so powerful it takes every ounce of control I have to stay upright. And still I’m not satisfied. Still it’s not enough.
Not when I can still smell her, cherries and vanilla and sweet, sweet sex.
Not when I can still feel her lush ass pressed against my cock.
Not when I still want her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I turn my head, sink my teeth into my bicep and wait for the pain to help bring my body under control. But this time it doesn’t work. This time the sharp press of my teeth only turns me on more because I imagine it’s her biting me, her on the brink of losing control.
I’m hard again, or hard still, and right now denial isn’t even in my vocabulary. So I fist my cock again, jerk off a second time. And pray, as I finally clean up the mess and tuck myself back into my suit, that twice is enough to keep me focused. Keep me sane. And keep me from jumping her like a crazed animal the next time I see her. It’s not much, but at the moment it’s all the control I can muster. At least when it comes to Aria.
Chapter Five
Aria
I can feel him watching me. Can feel his eyes raking over my hair, my breasts, my legs. It’s a near tangible feeling, like his hands are just brushing against me, his rough palms skating softly, sweetly, over my shoulders and down my bare arms to my hands and the sensitive skin between each of my fingers. He’s everywhere—above me, beside me, in front of me, behind me, and I can’t catch a break. Can’t catch my breath.
