Page 1 of V Card

PROLOGUE

“Your call, sweetheart.” I grinned. Watching as a pair of honey-colored eyes peered up at me, then immediately dropped back down to the hand she was clutching a little too tight between a set of manicured fingertips. This particular kitten had pretty pink claws that were two-sizes too big for her.

I shook my head.And if she wasn’t careful, I was gonna have to demand a new deck.No way in hell was I about to chance someone marking a perfectly good stack of cards. Didn’t matter if that shit was intentional or an honest mistake. She hadn’t been on this earth long enough to know what was good for her, and I’d been on it too long to let a little girl get the slip on me.

I might not have known her, might not have ever seen her before tonight, but I sure as shit knew her type. I’d clocked her the moment she started rounding the room before deciding I was the chump she was gonna try to distract with one palm on his thigh and another creeping into his wallet. She was used to a bunch of limp dicks letting her win—or at the very least, she was used to throwing them off their game. Becauseherswas shit.

It wouldn’t take more than a few rounds for the kid to realize she’d chosen poorly. I wasn’t her meal ticket. I wasn’t easily distracted either. I might have allowed myself a peek at her tits, but it was the rest of her I was more interested in. It was the rest of her that told me everything I needed to know.

All I had to do was read her facial expressions. Study her mannerisms. Listen for the little sounds she made after each hand was dealt. That’s what happened when you were young and your poker face was nonexistent. You were an open book for fuckers like me, the kind of guy who knew better than to drink when he was working a table.

A slurping sound had my glare sweeping over the fruity cocktail the kitten was nursing through one of those straws with the loops in it. Her third since slinking her way into that seat with the confidence of a betta fish that had never seen outside its bowl. And I had to keep from rolling my eyes. Another novice move. You didn’t need your senses dulled by alcohol. You needed them sharpened by years of practice.

Unlike the crowds that flocked to the money pits, lured by all that glitter and gold, I had no problem tuning it out. The other players and the environment built brick by brick to distract you. My sole focus glued to the cards in my hand and the chips in front of me. The noise melted away. The lights didn’t matter. Even the smoke seemed to clear until all I could think about was the offer that hung between us. Her virginity in exchange for another stack of chips. Unless she happened to be staring at an ace of diamonds.

The sudden droop of those plump, overly-painted lips told me she wasn’t, though. Not that it seemed to affect her willingness to bluff. The girl didn’t say a word as she tossed her remaining chips into the pot.All-in.

It was a bold move for someone whose feet barely touched the floor without the help of those ridiculous heels. She probablythought the shoes and makeup made her look older. They didn’t. They made her look like she was trying too hard. A bright-red target for those of us circling the casino room floors as soon as we tasted fresh blood in the water.

I lifted a challenging brow, calling her bluff before the poor kid even realized her mistake as I flipped my hand over on the table. A pair of queens to her jack and king.

Her jaw dropped, her mouth opening and closing a few times like one of those little molly fish with the big bug eyes. She was just as colorful too, in that emerald green evening gown that left little to the imagination when it came to what was underneath it.

I could see the wheels turning in her head, and quickly cut off whatever argument she was planning with atskof my tongue before gesturing for security to come and collect my winnings. Which tonight included the girl in front of me and whatever she was hiding between those thighs I could see her clenching from all the way over here.

CHAPTER ONE

This was just physical. It wasn’t about romance or whatever crazy ideas the chicks I brought upstairs got in their minds when I agreed to bury my face in their cunts for a couple of hours. It was one of the very few downsides to fucking around with virgins. They thought going home smelling like my cum was as good as a marriage proposal. When all it really was, was an exchange of bodily fluids. A stress-reliever. Something that helped me relax after a long night sitting in a hard seat when I had no choice but to keep my urges at bay.

But here, in this room, I could let loose as much as I could maintain control. It was my favorite balancing act. Seeing how far I could test my own limits before allowing myself to give in to them.

It didn’t really matter what they looked like, the women I allowed the privilege of feeling my dick sinking deep into their cunts. The ones who got the literal pleasure of having my tongue swirl around their clits until they were screaming a stranger’s name. All I cared about was that I was the first one to do it. Because I was an only child, a selfish son of a bitch who never learned to share.

I wasn’t about to apologize for that. You didn’t have to like me to fuck me. And I sure as shit didn’t have to like you either. That was the very definition of hate sex, after all.

It wasn’t until we were tucked away in the sanctity of my executive suite, far from the busy Vegas streets below us and all the lurking eyes lingering there, that I was able to fully appreciate tonight’s entertainment. And I had to admit without all the flashing lights and noise, without the outside distractions, the girl was more than a bit pleasing to the eye.

She was pretty. With an hourglass silhouette that hinted at the curves she was hiding as she folded in on herself. Her arms crossed over her chest and her weight shifting from foot to foot.

I took a step forward, my hands clasped behind my back as I assessed the little molly who hadn’t realized she wasn’t the bait. She was the main course. Scanned her from head to fucking toe and memorized everything between. Every freckle, scar, beauty mark. The way her auburn hair had flecks of red in it and curled at the ends. How her pale skin and tight-fitting gown made her eyes pop. Her long lashes framing those same eyes as they stared up at me before dropping back down to her toes. I’d made her remove her heels as well as the several layers of lipstick she had caked on her mouth.

I wanted her natural and…unencumberedfor everything I had planned for her.

I stepped aside to get a sense of her true height now that she wasn’t using those sparkly shoes as a crutch and looked her over once more. From a different angle. She was a petite little thing. Barely five-foot to my six… something. I didn’t need to pull out a ruler to get exacts. I was big, much bigger than she was, and that was all that mattered. I intimidated her without having to do a thing but stand upright.

My gaze flicked to her cleavage, and I took notice of how shallow her breaths were, her chest heaving as the air wassucked in and forced out again. How her skin was pebbled even though I hadn’t lifted a hand to touch her yet. She was scared. And she should be. She’d offered herself up to a stranger, a man who had the means to ensure she’d never leave this room if I didn’t want her to leave it. Had the methods to ensure she was never found again unless I wanted her found.

I could do that, but it wasn’t my intention. If she had chosen to sit at someone else’s table, she might not have been so lucky though. And she could be going home wrapped up in a body bag, instead of the designer label I had yet to peel back—the same one that she’d be wearing when I shipped her out in a few hours.

That partwas coming. Not long after I did. But I had no desire to rush the process.

Despite the fear I could feel radiating off her, the slight sheer of perspiration I could make out on her forehead, I didn’t look at this girl like a predator would its prey. No, my appraisal was more refined than animalistic.

She was a delicacy and I was the kind of guy who enjoyed a good meal. I didn’t fuck. I didn’t make love either. I indulged in flesh. Consumed it. Worshiped the act like a dying man praying for his salvation. It meant the difference between fingerpainting and swiping the last brushstroke on a masterpiece. Between banging a few keys and conducting a symphony. An apprentice and a master of the arts.Someone who liked to play Uno and a professional card shark.

So, yeah, I eyed the girl how an accomplished violinist would examine a commissioned instrument. How taut the strings. How long the neck. How curvaceous the waist. It all fell to my judgmental gaze.

“You can lose the dress now,” I instructed as I shifted the material from her shoulders, watching it flutter down her body before pooling at her feet. The satisfaction of my grin meeting the terror of her eyes.

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