Page 7 of V Card

She liked to be my good little girl at the same time some deeper part of her was dying to be my perfect little slut instead.

That was new, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she did in her bedroom, late at night, when no one was watching. Did she fantasize about a man like me climbing through her window andtaking her in her sleep? Was her virginity as much of a burden as it was my prize? And why the fuck did I care?

I didn’t. I was just curious. The girl had piqued my interests the moment she sat at my table and lifted a challenging brow in my direction. She was asking for trouble and she’d found it.

But that wasn’t all she found. She found pleasure too. Hours and hours of thigh-quivering pleasure.

The moment my hand drifted from the curve of her waist, over her soft thigh before brushing along her cunt—wet and fluttering with need—I had to remind myself this was a marathon and not a race. The finish line signaled the end of our evening and I just wasn’t ready to step on the platform and hold that trophy over my head.

No, I wasn’t ready for the experience to be over yet.

She squirmed beneath my hold, no matter how soft or hard I teased at her swollen clit. She was overstimulated, her pretty pink nipples stiffened to peaks that were just begging to be squeezed and twisted. Licked and sucked.

I bent forward, keeping my body weight trained on one arm as I closed my mouth over the flesh of her left breast while my free hand continued to stroke and torment. She was a wanton little thing now that she’d experienced her first few orgasms, her whimpers just barely audible as she tried to bite her lower lip and keep them in.

Thing was, they weren’t hers to keep. They were mine. I’d earned them and I wanted to hear them. I wanted to hear all the sounds I could compel her to make with just a simple twirl of my finger, nip of my teeth, lap of my tongue.

I stilled my movements, gliding my hand back up the length of her body until it reached her chin. Grabbed her jaw and pried it open. “If I wanted to fuck a church mouse, I would have joined the priesthood, sweetheart,” I grunted, and waited for my meaning to sink in.

It didn’t take long. Girl might have been a shit poker player but there was more than air upstairs. She was sharp and eager to please. Which meant she was teachable.Thank fuck.

The little moans she was making grew louder but not too loud. As much as I didn’t want that church mouse, I didn’t want a porn star either. Or a performance. I didn’t want anything I didn’t deserve. I didn’t count cards or cheat my way to the pot. It wasn’t about inflating my ego. I was self-aware enough to know I had flaws. This just wasn’t one of them. I was good at what I did at both the table and in the bedroom. Everyone was gifted with certain abilities, indulged in certain vices. Pussy and poker were mine.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Icould hear the clock ticking in the background, reminding me that how we started was very much how we were gonna end. This Cinderella had an expiration date and she was one deep thrust away from turning into a pumpkin—it wasn’t my fault I just so happened to prefer my fruit…unseeded.

I pushed myself up on my knees, her thighs butterflied open around me as I grabbed each of her ankles and dragged her down the mattress. Closer. Nothing was better than watching the head of my cock glide forward and disappear between a set of puffy pussy lips. It was my favorite part. That initial penetration that both endeared the girlto meand ruined herfor me.

Her abdominal muscles rose and fell with her quickened breaths, as I used my thumb to spread her open. Notched my cock at her entrance and braced myself for that first rush of adrenaline. The same one I felt every time I stepped away from a table with more zeroes in my bank account than I started with.

I could feel the warmth flooding my system, the same time a different kind of warmth flooded my cock. I’d spent the last few hours ensuring her body was ready for me, that the resistance was just enough to grip me from all sides without taking a layer of skin off my dick. Like I said, her pleasure was as much aboutme as it was about her. Tight, virgin pussies were a luxury… but they could also be painful as fuck. And that just wasn’t my thing.

Though it might have been hers if the look on her face the moment I broke through the last barrier separating us was anything to go by. Her body tensed before it melted against the sheets like a deflated balloon. Just as still and shapeless. Until I pulled back and thrusted forward again.

Her hands clawed at the sheets, her legs shaky as I leveraged them against my hips, tugging her ass up each time I drove down. She was a slight thing but that didn’t mean her cheeks didn’t clap in rhythm with my thrusts. Just audible over the sound of her moans mixing with my own labored breaths.

My abdominal muscles screamed and my biceps ached before I gave up on fighting gravity, tucked her left leg around my waist and dropped onto my thighs. Which had the entire bedframe shaking now, the headboard thudding against the wall hard enough to leave marks. She scrambled to grab my face, drawing it closer as I shoved my tongue down her throat, forcing her to taste herself as much as she could taste me.

She might not have liked me, but she sure as fuck liked what I did to her.

Three more slow pumps, combined with a circular motion that had my pelvic bone grinding against her clit, had her seeing stars again. She sighed into my mouth before prying her lips free and dropping her head back against the mattress. I could almost make out the whites of her eyes as she clung to the headboard and arched her back against me.

There was nothing quite like your first internal orgasm. I might not have been able to experience it directly, but I didn’t have to. Not when I could witness it this up close and personal. Just watching her—the way her mouth remained slightly parted, her hair wild and unkempt, her cheeks flush, and her nostrils flared—was enough to send that first spirt of cum deep insideher cunt. Then another and another, until I could barely hold myself upright to stop from crushing her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was the same every time. The immediate low that followed the highest of highs. My heart beat evened out, my blood pressure dropped—along with the thrill—and then I was left with that familiar emptiness. The one that had me in a chokehold until the next time I entered a room, took my usual spot at the table, and had the first hand of cards thrown out in front of me. Until I holed myself up in my usual suite and made good use of the bleach-white sheets.

I looked up at my reflection in the mirror before chancing a glance over the shoulder at the girl still curled up in my bed. She was such a slight thing I could just make out the shape of her body from here.

That was a problem.

The only thing I avoided more than repeat offenders was slumber parties. Which meant my little pillow princess had to go.

I slammed the bathroom door closed, loud enough that it would wake her if she was in fact sleeping and not just faking it. Turned the tap on the coldest setting and splashed some water on my face before tucking a fresh towel around my waist. What I wanted was a hot shower, something to soothe the sore musclesthat told me my night had been well spent. But what Ineededwas help ensuring this girl didn’t make a scene when I threw her ass out. Not that I couldn’t handle her on my own. I just didn’t care to. Especially when I had more than enough cash to pay someone else to do it for me.

I reached out an arm and swiped up the phone that was mounted to the wall to my right. The concierge answered on the second ring, which told me he hadn’t been sitting at his desk and had to make a quick dash for it. Hospitality knew I didn’t like waiting—as a long-term guest, I shouldn’t have had to.

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