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“Wait up.” I grab her hand. “Dinner later? A drink? Your name?”
She looks at me like she’s confused, then those hardened eyes are back.
“Follow me.” She starts walking toward the alley, and I follow. I’m not turning back for nothing at this point.
She stops and pushes me against the brick wall. “After this, we’re even.”
“After wha—” She has me unbuckled and is on her knees before I can say another word.
“Oh, damn. Don’t stop,” I growl.
She doesn’t. She works me like no one ever has, her tongue tracing my tip, then sliding along my shaft as she pushes my pants down farther. She grabs my balls and moans in appreciation, which makes me hot as hell. She rolls them in her hand as she sucks so hard I am already feeling the heat of my release spreading through me like a wildfire.
“If you don’t want the Caldwell cocktail, you better stop,” I hiss.
She sucks harder, and I come, seeing lights brighter than the Vegas Strip. Then I feel her pulling up my pants and tucking me away—a first for me. Awkward? A little, but cool, too.
“Baby,” I start, and she turns away. “Christ.” I grab her hand. “What the hell is the hurry? I’m still not finished with you.”
“We’re even,” she says as she starts walking away, her hand still in mine.
“We’re keeping score, are we?” I half laugh.
“Checks and balances.” She swallows hard. “Life is all about—”
She stops when I turn her toward me. I swear her eyes are tearing up, but then again, it could be the fact that my cock was just rammed down her throat.
“Then I owe you big.”
Her head cocks to the side as she studies me, but then she turns away and pulls her hand free.
I follow her to her car and open the door before she can. “Momma raised a gentleman; I got it.”
She looks at the ground as she gets in her little car. Then I reach in and pull her buckle around her and click it in.
“I want your name.”
“I have to go,” she says as she starts the car. “Please shut the door and go move your car.”
“Just your name—”
“Call me Hard Luck.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“Believe it,” she says in a low whisper as she puts her little car in reverse.
I let her go because I know she just had a come-to-Jesus moment. I sure did.
I let her go because I know I’ll see that fine ass again. I know where she works—my new favorite casino: Harrah’s, the place you go to get platinum ass.
I get in my car and turn her over, moving back to watch as her platinum ass pulls out onto the Strip. The radio is playing “Show Me” by Chris Brown and Kid Ink, and I am all sorts of fucking good.
Chapter Eight
Checks and balances. The scorecard is even with Caldwell. As hard as I try to convince myself that I owe him nothing, however, it’s not working.
He put his mouth on me, on my body.
I run my hand over my breasts and down my stomach as my skin continues to tingle from his touch. How much more have I messed up my life in my moment of weakness tonight? How did this all spin out of control so damn fast?
I smack myself in the face. Snap out of it, Hailey. How could I have allowed myself to be mesmerized by a suit-wearing fucker again?
If the car hadn’t honked, would I have stopped him?
My mind races as I go through the motions. Stopping at a red light, I sit in idle, looking down at my trembling hands, noticing that my ring finger still has the indention from wearing my bands for so many years.
Have I become the whore my mother was? I promised Marisa I would give her better. Yet tonight, under the bright Vegas lights, I lost myself once again to a man.
Reaching up, I touch a trembling hand to my swollen mouth, and my mind immediately goes back to the feel of his lips on me. He had his mouth on me. He made my body come alive under him, and I was helpless to stop myself. The sensations . . . Never, ever have I felt what I felt tonight, even before he touched me. Just working him up in our verbal spar had my panties wet.
I drop my head in shame. Am I that desperate for attention?
A horn honking behind me makes me jump. Looking up, I see that the light has turned green, and more embarrassment fills me as I fumble to get my head focused on driving home.
Home.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes. The small room Marisa and I occupy is not a home. How am I going to get out of this mess? I need to focus on the hustle. I need to get into a game, not waste time fooling around with a high roller who only wants a roll in the sheets. I cannot allow myself to get caught up again.
