Page 9 of Gamble with Me
"You're thinking too much, Zee," she chirped, moving her hand along the length of my dick.
"You're not here to muse about my thoughts," I growled in a low, husky voice, pushing her back. She obediently opened her mouth, took me in again, and continued her work.
I watched as the tears welled in her green eyes when the tip of my cock touched the back of her throat, but every cell in my body screamed it was wrong. Delilah was only a woman who gained her status because she served me in every way I wanted.
She had no dignity when it came to my requirements. She never dared say no to anything because it would risk her position. I had no respect for her. A woman without boundaries who didn't know her worth and was willing to do anything for money was nothing to me. I valued a good, comfortable couch more than her.
Closing my eyes, I saw a live image of the most beautiful woman I ever met. Her big grey-blue eyes were full of admiration, cherry-red hair framed her cute face, and her plump crimson lips invited me to kiss them.
In my vivid half-dream, she was dressed in white lacy lingerie that barely covered her breasts and left nothing to the imagination. A tiny tattoo on her thigh haunted me since the moment Malin mentioned it, and when she took Delilah's position between my legs, I was lost.
It was such a wild fantasy, imagining someone I only met once as she took care of me in the most intimate way. But I couldn't help myself. Seeing her was like watching an angel, even in my barely conscious state. She was exquisite and tender. At the same time, she was firm and delicate, strong and fragile. She was everything I ever dreamed of.
The orgasm I experienced was mind-blowing. The colorful dots danced in front of my eyes, and my heart almost exploded. A few seconds later, I realized my fingers were tangled in Delilah's hair, and her face was covered with my cum.
It felt like someone threw a bucket of ice-cold water over me, and I was violently dragged back to reality, to the woman I didn't want around me anymore.
My stomach twisted with disgust, and I quickly rose to my feet, almost knocking her to the ground. I grabbed napkins from the nightstand and handed them to her, trying to avoid looking at her.
Never before had I experienced such a gnawing guilt. It felt like I was unfaithful to Valeria, and I’d horribly betrayed her. There was nothing between us, and I’d already lost my common sense. My brain packed its suitcases and left me drowning in the chaos she caused.
What the fuck happened to me?
Valeria enchanted me and put me under her spell, and I had no idea how to fight it. I was a prisoner of her stunning eyes. She held me captive in my own poor existence, and I was going crazy from it.
"Zyon, are you okay?" Delilah asked, her voice screeching in my ears. Swiftly, I pulled up my pants and buttoned my shirt, leaving her in the bedroom without an explanation.
I ran out of the door into the cold night, inhaling deeply. Two of my bodyguards were sitting on the stairs, playing cards and smoking, but when they saw me, they instantly stood up, looking at me curiously. When I decided to stay home, I only left in the middle of the night because of some emergency. They were used to relaxing during the night shifts.
"Everything okay, boss?" Jamal asked, furrowing his eyebrows. I probably looked like someone was chasing me.
"Give me the keys," I barked, stretching my arm in his direction. My Maserati was parked only a few feet away, and I needed to clear my head. I felt trapped in the three-story luxurious house with a woman I couldn't even look at.
Jamal quickly fished the car keys from his pocket, glancing at me worriedly. I narrowed my eyes at him when he shifted his weight from one leg to another, hesitantly handing me the damn thing.
"Can I go with you?" he inquired, his brown eyes boring into mine. When I took over the family business, I surrounded myself with loyal people, and Jamal was at the top of that list.
He was an immigrant from Nigeria. He and his two sisters ran away from their homeland to find a better place to live, but they only found misery in America. His younger sister was raped when she was on her way home from work, and it was only the beginning. The twenty-year-old boy craved revenge and got involved in messy things because of it.
I found him on the street, shot in the chest, bleeding to death. My protective instinct won a battle with my brain, and I drove him to the hospital, paid the medical bills, and listened to his story.
Two weeks after he was discharged, I made him an offer, and he took it without hesitation. Thanks to his work for me, his sisters could fulfill their dreams. They had a home, food, and enough money to live a decent life. And he never forgot to express gratitude for what I had done for him.
"No. I need to be alone," I replied, yanking the keys from his grasp. He didn't deserve my rude behavior, and I saw the concern on his face, but I wasn't in the mood for company. He would only ask questions I couldn't answer.
"I'll go behind you," he suggested, following me to my car.
I sighed exasperatedly. He was one of the few people who could oppose my decisions. For an unknown observer, he was only a bodyguard. For me, he was like a son.
"Which part of I need to be alone didn't you understand?" I rumbled, turning to face him. His skin was as dark as night, and the white shirt literally shone on him. I often admired how good he looked in those crazy, colorful t-shirts he loved wearing during his free time.
"You can't go alone, sir," he answered, holding my gaze. Much more powerful men shook in fear from me, but not him. He knew I would never hurt him.
"Can't I?" I spat, glaring at him. My previous frustration turned into hot anger, and even when I didn't want to take it out on him, he was within range and pushing my buttons.
"In the current situation, it would be extremely irresponsible to provide your enemies with an opportunity to attack," he recited, not one muscle on his face moving. I fisted my palm, ready to send him to hell with this bullshit, but I knew he was right. I hated to admit that he held the upper hand in this conversation.
"Fine," I groaned in defeat, getting into my car and slamming the door shut. In the rearview mirror, I saw him starting a black SUV with another man joining him.
