Page 34 of Poker
“It’s just…”
“It’s still new,” Ember supplies when words fail me.
“Exactly. I’ve never been the type of girl who wants to spend all her time with a guy, but shit… Poker’s different.”
Ember sighs wistfully. “That’s a biker for you. They’re all different. But in a good way.”
It’s not five minutes later that the guys stroll into the large room, each making a beeline for either their woman, a Bangin’ Betty, or the bar for a drink.
“Hey, babe,” Poker greets as he slides an arm around the small of my back. “Having fun?”
“Yeah.”
I search his eyes for the confirmation I want about Diego, and somehow, he knows exactly what I need and gives an almost imperceptible nod. Relief washes over me, and I take a long pull of my beer.
“Wanna shoot some pool?” he asks. “We could even put a little wager on it.” Poker bobs his eyebrows suggestively.
“I’m game, but I’ve gotta warn you, I’m pretty fucking good.”
“Is that so?” He grabs my hand and practically drags me toward the pool table across the room. “What are you willing to bet?”
Instinctively, I want to turn this into some version of strip poker, but we’re not alone, so…
“For every ball I sink, you drink a shot of Jack.”
“And for every ball I sink?”
“I’ll down a Blowjob.”
“Jesus,” he rasps as he thrusts his hands through his hair. “You’re on.”
Two games later, I’m drunk as shit.
How the hell did that happen? I’m a pool goddess!
I sway as Poker guides me toward an empty couch, but halfway there, he stops in his tracks, and I slam against him.
“What’re you doin’,” I slur.
“Hey, baby,” a woman’s voice is the only response I hear, and I immediately perk up. “How about you ditch drunk Barbie and take me to your room?”
Say what now?
“Kitty, you know that’s not gonna happen,” he snaps, keeping me tightly tucked to his side. “Move.”
I manage to clear my vision by blinking several times, and that’s when any trace of alcohol flees from my system.
This slut has her hands on my man!
I straighten to move in front of him, forcing her to break contact. “You heard him,” I snarl. “Move.”
“You think he’s gonna stay with you? He’s been fucking me for years,” she taunts. “When he’s sick of your rancid pussy, he’ll come craw?—”
Pain radiates through my hand and up my arm as my fist connects with her jaw, but I ignore it.
“The only rancid pussy here is yours!” I shout, punching her again. “Poker is taken, and it would be wise of you to remember that you fucking bitch.” Hauling my arm back, I land another blow.
Kitty is now on the floor, trying to scramble away from me, but I bend down and grab her by the hair.
