Page 1 of Mistaking Stone

Chapter One

There’s two differentkinds of screamers.

The one you’d find in my bedroom, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist as I’m pounding her, my name high-pitched and erratic with each breathless cry that escapes her oval-shaped mouth.Thrust after thrust, her voice goes an octave higher.

Her lips are pouty, swollen even, as they recover from the meticulous work she performed on my dick moments ago.And when she throws her head back, I can see a trace of her ruby red lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

She has the perfect scream.

So satisfying, so pleasing.For her and for me.

The other type is three blackjack tables down from the one I’m sitting at.She’s such a distraction, I’ve turned around no less than a dozen times in the last half hour.

Standing behind the man she’s with, she lets out a piercing shrill each time he wins a hand.I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t know a single thing about cards, though.

I’d like nothing more than to shove my dick in her mouth.Obviously, it’s the only way she’s going to stay quiet.

The dealer, Harold from California—because for whatever reason some casinos like to share this bit of info—deals me two aces and I curl my fingers underneath my chin, contemplating my next move.With a smirk on my face, I slide a new stack of chips forward and Harold properly positions them behind the appropriate card.I’d be a fool not to split them.

I look to my left, stealing a quick glance towards the screamer.With his back to me, I watch as her gentleman friend slips several chips underneath the table then into her hands.She drops them into the glitter pouch draped over her shoulder in one swift movement.Yeah, you’ll never see those chips again, I laugh to myself.

“Sir,” Harold says and I jerk my head around to see another ace staring back at me.

Fuck me.Three aces.That’s almost unheard of.

“Are you sure you shuffled those cards?”I wink at the Hispanic dealer, his accent so thick I sometimes have trouble understanding what he’s saying.

He taps the top of the black box attached to the side of the table.“Automatic shuffle,” he says, a sneer quickly appearing on his face.

Harold and I have this love-hate relationship—without question, he’s my go-to dealer—and tonight I’m feeling all the love.I shove another stack of chips his way, then add a black five hundred dollar chip on the edge of the betting circle.Fortunately for Harold, he’s allowed to keep his tips, and if he keeps this up, he’s going to go home a happy man tonight.

“How ‘bout a Jack, Harold?”Rubbing my hands together, I hold my breath as I wait for him to flip the next card.

By now, several people have gathered behind me, waiting to see the outcome.

Harold grins when he flops the king of hearts down next to the first ace.Patting his fingers on the two cards, he asks, “Will this work?”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”Slapping my hands together, I turn and fist-bump the onlooker to my left.His gaze travels to the stacks of chips in front of me, no doubt shocked to see someone betting so much at a regular table.I could be in the High Limits room, but I prefer playing here, amongst the regular gamblers and...the screamers.

I don’t flinch when Harold lays down a nine next.Worst case, he turns a face card to go with his ten and we push.Hey, it’s better than losing, right?

I take a swig of the whiskey I’ve been sipping, then pat my hand against the green felt for the next card turn.I stand up out of the chair and shove it back a couple inches as soon as Harold drops the ten of spades beside the third ace.No doubt, tonight ismynight.

High-fives are spread around behind me, despite none of the onlookers having a dog in the fight.And when Harold turns over an eight of hearts to go with his ten, making me a winner with all three hands, I feel my night is complete.

“You’ve done well,” I tell Harold and move my chips around to get an idea of just how much I have in front of me.

“How long you play tonight?”he asks and looks down at his watch.

Remembering the eight o’clock meeting I have in the morning, I realize now’s a good time to call it a night.“Color me up,” I instruct and push everything towards him.“I’m done.”

“Good idea.Stop while you ahead.”

As I make my way to the cashier’s cage, I look back for the screamer.Seems she’s gotten quite all of a sudden.Either her lover’s luck ran dry or they’ve decided to call it a night as well.If he’s a regular player, I’m sure I’ll see them again.Though I never got a good look at him, I’d recognize her distinct, throaty howl anywhere.

Stepping out of the elevator at valet, I hand the ticket over to the attendant, then step to the side while I wait for my car to be brought around.Normally, the wait is minimal during the week, so I’m a bit surprised when ten minutes has passed and there’s still no sign of my Porsche.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch, and give me my god-damned money,” a male voice slurs from behind one of the large pillars a few feet down from the one I’m leaning against.

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