Page 18 of Gambler's Fallacy

My own breathing isn’t any steadier. I snap my hips up and give over to the pleasure, shooting into him while his ass clenches around me.

His tears don’t slow, and the feeling of his shoulders shaking as he cries has my orgasm seeming to last forever as he feeds that need in me to see himsuffer.

When I finally release him, he lets out another long, shuddering sob, then rests his head against my shoulder.

I wrap my arms around him and stroke his back. I feel as wrung out as Seven, even though I’m not the one in tears.

My phone is too far away for me to call Vortex or Havoc so they can cuddle with Seven.

I don’t want to call them.

I want to give Seven everything.

FOUR

VORTEX

The first thingI notice when I spot Connie in the casino lobby is the garish handbag she’s carrying. I’m sure I’d have noticed something like that before, so it must be new.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to it.

Connie beams and angles the bag to show it off. “You like it? It’s from my new startup business.”

Startup business.

I remember her telling me about some great new business opportunity, but I hadn’t thought it involved ugly handbags. I’m apparently funding this, like I’ve funded so many other failed opportunities — something I have to try hard not to think about too much.

At least Connie looks healthy. She’s pulled her bleached blond hair into a braid and she’s wearing bright make-up. Her large, dangling earrings match the garish handbag.

“Yeah? What happened to the last one? Those… vitamins or whatever?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that question.

“Oh, that. I wasn’t vibing with them.” Connie makes a dismissive gesture. “The diamond level babes were cramping my style, andeverybody’s selling vitamins these days.” She pauses. “But if you need some, I still have back stock. It’s only a hundred bucks for a whole box.”

I stare at her, jaw agape. I have no idea what she’s talking about, for one. Then there’s the fact that she’s trying to sell me back stock for a hundred dollars.Thenthere’s the part where she’s on to a new business venture, one that will probably result in even more unused products. “Connie…”

She must see the look in my eyes, because she hurries to say, “I can probably give you a discount, though. On account of you being family.”

I shake my head. “That’s not… Come on. Let’s go eat,” I tell her before I give in to the urge to wring her neck.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” she says, linking her arms with mine. “Thanks for treating me, Sebby.”

I grimace. “Please don’t call me that in public,” I tell her. “Or at all. Ever.”

If Seven ever heard her call me that, I’d never hear the end of it.

I feel a pang. I half-wish I’d invited him to this dinner, but things with my sister are always complicated. I don’t know how to explain her to him, and I definitely don’t know how to explain him to her.

We end up at the Mexican restaurant, mostly because I know Havoc would never set foot in here. The food is decent though, if not authentic.

After we’re seated — and after I look again at the hideous purse she’s carrying — I clear my throat. “So. Purses, huh?”

I know I’m going to regret asking, but maybe I’m as much of a masochist as Seven is.

Connie smiles. “Yeah! Everybody needs a purse, right? Handbags are both functionalandthey’re an identity. They tell people who you are!” She sets the bag on the table and opens it up. “Okay, see, this one has three separate compartments, and a cellphone holder, and a place for keys. All in a stylish package. Who wouldn’t want one of these handbags?”

All I can see is the plastic gleam of the material and the missed seam on one side.

That, and the clashing, garish colors.

---