Pranked (34 page)

"
I
'm not sleeping
with you," I say as I step inside the doorway of Chase's penthouse suite. It's actually the second time I've said that to him, although the first time I remember there being more conviction behind the words. It would be easier if he wasn't so gorgeous. And I wasn't so angry.

The first time had been in the elevator on the ride up. It was right after I wondered how crazy I was to be alone with this handsome stranger who had essentially just won me in a poker game, and right before two young guys got on and acted like they were in the presence of greatness. What the fuck was that all about, anyway? They knew his name and even asked him to sign the back of a receipt they had on them. Said they were big fans. Of what, exactly?

Chase's hotel room is bigger than my apartment back home, and clearly the decorating budget greatly eclipsed the $500 that my roommate and I had scraped together.

The room Harry and I were staying in had a bed and a desk that were fighting for space next to a small window. This room doesn't even have a bed or a desk. Those items must be in one of the other rooms which branch off from here. The only things in this room are couches, carpets and paintings which face a big flat screen television on one wall and curtains lining the edge of another.

Chase is tapping on a touchscreen pad on an end table, and suddenly the curtains begin to pull themselves back to reveal a breathtaking view.

"Wow," I breathe. I can't help but be impressed with the sight and take a few steps toward it. The windows are floor to ceiling and we're looking out over the brightly lit Las Vegas strip. The MGM Grand and Monte Carlo hotels are closest, but I can also see the sprawling City Center down below.

"I never get tired of seeing this."

I jump at the sound of his voice which is close enough to my ear that I can feel the hotness of his breath as he stands behind me. He's closer than he should be. Closer than he needs to be. I'm surprised that I don't have an overwhelming urge to step away. I should. Harrison and I haven't even been split for half an hour.

Truth is, things haven't been working for a while. This trip was against my better judgment, but he argued that it would be good for us to get away. That it would bring us closer together. It was obviously just an excuse for him to go and feed his addiction. Things had been headed in this direction for a while. I don't even remember the last time he and I had sex. Even longer since we've made love.

"Would you like a drink..." he hangs the sentence in midair, as if waiting for me to fill something in.

I turn to look at him, his blue eyes probing into me immediately as he waits. I suddenly feel my cheeks redden as I realize what he's waiting for.

"Lila," I finally say. Shit. I haven't even told this guy my name. Where is my head tonight?

"Beautiful," he smiles. His teeth are straight and white, a traditional Colgate smile. Is there nothing about this guy that isn't perfect? Blond, blue eyed, perfect teeth, apparently rich and possibly famous. What the hell was he thinking trying to buy me in a card game? Or win me.

Is there a difference?

"Uh, I'm not sure if that's a good idea. I was just thinking maybe I should go." I wasn't thinking anything of the sort, but that's what I should be thinking. He's still closer than he needs to be. Close enough that I can feel the heat from his body caress mine.

He raises an eyebrow. "Where?"

Is it that obvious that I have nowhere to go?

"You're from out of town, right?" He shrugs as I nod. "Tourists are obvious sometimes. But I assume you've been staying with... your boyfriend, right?"

I nod again. He has a casual arrogance, like he knows everything already. Problem is, he's dead on so far. He seems to know a lot more about me than I know about him. Although now that I've been staring at his face it is starting to seem vaguely familiar. Certainly not Hollywood A list familiar, but I've seen him somewhere.

"You aren't going to go back to him, are you? After all, he did gamble you away in a poker game."

"I recall you being part of that wager," I snap back. I'm not defending Harrison, but I feel sensitive about it. Embarrassed, really. I take a step back, putting some distance between us. I decide to push my anger back at him. "Do you often make bets to win girls?"

Chase purses his lips as his eyes flit across the newly created gap between our bodies. "I make a living taking advantage of situations where I know I have an edge. To do that you have to know the value of things, and only take risks with something you can afford, or are willing to lose - generally with the knowledge that what you have to gain is far greater than what you've put at risk.

"Your boyfriend had lost more money than he could afford. And then he risked something that he shouldn't have been willing to lose to simply get back what he shouldn't have lost in the first place. I was in no such position. I could afford to lose the money, and my potential reward was far greater."

His blue eyes are burning into me. "I'm not your reward."

Chase shakes his head. "That's not what I mean. The bet was more a test of the man than anything. Like I said, I could tell he was in over his head and I had no wish to take further advantage of the situation. The game, those stakes... I play at that level occasionally for fun, not to fleece the tourists."

"So what was your potential reward that you were willing to risk all that money for, then?"

Chase shrugged. "Another gamble." He takes a step forward, closing the gap between us again. "I understand that money was a lot to you and your boyfriend, but it wasn't a lot to me. So I took a chance with it. I gambled that, although you might think I was a jerk for trying to win you, you might still end up willing to spend some time with me if I did. That seemed worth the price to me. But to answer your earlier question, no. I don't make it a habit to bet on girls during poker games. This was the only time."

Chase seems like the kind of man who is used to winning, getting what he wants, but the only reason I'm here is because I had looked around for the easiest and quickest way to hurt Harrison, and leaving with his opponent seemed like the best option.

Actually fucking him had never been a consideration. Not that being with a man I'd just met is entirely foreign to me, it just hadn't been part of my thought process at the time. But the way he's looking at me now... his mouth only inches away, so close that I can feel the hotness of his breath with each word... I know my eyes are focusing on his lips as he speaks and I'm thinking more about how they taste than the words they're forming.

"You were the most gorgeous thing in that room." His voice is lower now, but he's close enough that every word is clear. "Can you blame me for wanting to hang out with you, get to know you? But I want to be clear, I had no expectations of you coming up here, or anything else. I'm a gambler, and I took a chance that my read on your boyfriend was right. He didn't value you, and I thought you should see that. Part of that gamble was that maybe you'd spend some time with me as well, sure. But you don't have to. You're free to go."

My back is to the window as he shifts forward just enough that our bodies touch, so lightly that it would be almost imperceptible if it wasn't the only thing I'm focusing on at the moment. Chase is so much the opposite of Harrison.

"If I stay, I'm not sleeping with you," I repeat again, like it's a personal mantra. This time the words are quiet, almost as if I'm not sure I want him to hear them, and even I can hear the lack of conviction behind them.

"Who said anything about sleep?" I watch his lips move one last time to form that sentence before they come forward.

Desire. That's what his lips taste like. Delicious desire.

E
ven as Chase
leads me by the lips, his urgent kisses pushing me backward towards what I assume is his bedroom, I have a feeling I'm making a mistake. A deliciously wonderful mistake, if the skill of his lips are any indication of things to come, but a mistake nonetheless.

But I don't care.

His hands reach up and grasp my breasts through my thin blouse and I let out a moan into his mouth just as we cross through the doorway. The stubble of his face burns across my chin with a pleasurable tingle, providing me with an unnecessary reminder of his masculinity. There's a much more obvious reminder of that pressing against my hip, and it's something I'm much more excited about at the moment.

Chase groans back at me as my fingers lightly trace along the outline of his cock, pressing just hard enough against his pants so that he notices my interest.

"Get on the bed," he growls, his mouth finally disengaging from mine. My tongue misses its partner immediately but I do as he says and slide on my knees against the soft linen. I honestly had no intention of doing this when I left with him, but it's like he knew the instant I changed my mind and pounced. Now I can't wait to feel his body against mine.

"Take your clothes off, Lila," he says, his tone dominant yet a flicker of playfulness behind his eyes is enough to reassure me again that he's not a lunatic. It helps that now that I've decided to do this, I want it just as much as he does.

"Your clothes," he insists again after I pause just a moment too long. I start to pull them off quickly now and watch as his greedy eyes take in every inch of flesh as it's exposed.

"You're so fucking hot." He says it with such conviction that I actually believe him. Harrison rarely paid me a compliment that wasn't a preface for a favor.

"After kissing your lips I have to taste the rest of you." He pushes me back against the sheets, my legs spreading before him without a hint of my usual embarrassment. I need to feel his lips and tongue on me now. I can't even think of anything else.

Chase only hesitates long enough to shuck his own shirt to the floor before his head dips between my knees, lowering himself to my hot core. I feel his tongue first, running wetly along the sides of my pussy before sliding up against my clit. He draws two wet circles around it and then I arch my back as his lips fasten onto it. "Yes," I gasp. "Right there. Lick my clit." There's no reason to hold back at this point. I want to forget Harrison and everything to do with him for a little while, and an orgasm seems like the perfect distraction.

For his part, Chase knows exactly what he's doing. His mouth is applying just the right amount of pressure as his hands ease my thighs apart, giving him deeper access to my sensitive folds. He's lapping enthusiastically against my wetness in a practiced way that has me on the edge of an orgasm faster than I ever remember getting there.

As the pleasure builds, one of his hands leaves my thigh and skims along my skin until it finds one of my swollen nipples. His first squeeze is enough to throw me over the edge. My own hands slide into his short blond hair, grabbing the roots and grinding him harder into my lusty center to intensify the electricity that is already coursing through me. I let out a shameless scream, the only outlet the pleasure has to escape my body.

Chase doesn't stop until I literally have to push him away.

I watch with breathless anticipation as he stands and walks over to his nightstand, opening it and fishing out a familiar tin foil wrapper. His back is covered in tattoos which ripple as the muscles beneath them move. It's sexy as hell, and only intensifies the desire I have for him. All I can think about is how I just want him to hurry up. It's been so long. I need to feel his cock now. It's the only way to complete the act we'd started. The orgasm by his mouth had been wonderful, but it left me with a burning hunger to be filled.

I watch as he sheds the rest of his clothes and slips the condom over his thick cock. I can feel my tongue slip involuntarily between my lips and wet them as I gaze down at it. Just another piece of perfection that makes up the man named Chase Anderson. Just another way he differs from Harry. When I look up at his face, he's watching me with a little half smile on his face.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Lila," he growls. I can feel the same need in his voice that I feel inside of myself.

"Please," I beg. I can't wait anymore.

He closes the gap between us in an instant, his body leaning forward across the bed until it drapes over mine and I feel the tip of him press hotly against my entrance. His forehead touches mine and his deep blue eyes gaze at me. As emotionless as his face was at the poker table, it's filled with expression now. There's no doubt Chase feels the same desire that I do.

I wrap my hands around his body, finding his firm ass and pulling him forward. "Please," I repeat softly.
Enough waiting.

A groan escapes me as he finally sinks deeply into my folds. No more words are needed, only actions. Chase thrusts into me, again and again as my fingers rake along his back with an urgency born from my desire not only to be filled, but to lose myself in the moment and forget Harrison and the fact that I don't know what I'm going to do with myself until Monday.

In both cases, I'm left satisfied as Chase continues to slam his hips into mine, rocking away any excess thoughts and worries I have left. By the time I feel him stiffen and shudder with his release, I've already come again myself and I'm too exhausted to form any coherent thoughts.

"
S
o
, Lila, do you have a last name?" Chase's hand feels hot as it rests on my thigh. We've kicked the sheets off the bed, but I'm still sweating from our session.

"Hunter," I respond lazily. I move one of my hands over to his leg as well, resting it against the thin hairs that run along his muscled flesh. It's not the first time I've had sex with someone who doesn't even know my last name, but I don't make it a habit.

"Hunter," he repeats. "Where's home, Lila Hunter?"

"Canada."

"Canada?" There's a question in his tone which bristles me for some reason.

"You must have heard of it, big neighbor to the north? Free health care, not as many guns?"

"I'm very familiar with it," he says. I can hear the smile on his face even without looking up at him. "I just mean, where in Canada?"

Now I'm the one surprised. He isn't Canadian as well, is he?

"Near Toronto," I reply, unwilling to be more specific yet. I turn my gaze to look at my hand. His cock is laying against his leg, close to my fingertips. I'm tempted to reach out and a run my fingers along it, our session a few minutes ago left me both satisfied and wanting more, but I hold back. This is supposed to be a one night stand and I need to keep it that way. I don't need to get involved with another guy with a gambling problem, which means I need to make sure I won't run into him again.

"So, not too far from Niagara Falls," Chase remarks. "I've been to Canada a few times. Either there or Montreal."

Niagara Falls or Montreal? Of course. The casinos. So almost definitely a degenerate gambler, but at least he doesn't live anywhere near me. I reach my hand out and touch the underside of his cock, letting my fingers slowly drag along his length and smile as I see it twitch in response.

"Where do you live?" I ask, only half paying attention now that I have another goal in mind.

"Here."

I look up at him with a raised eyebrow. "In this hotel? This room?"

Chase laughs, a deep full sound that fills the room. "Sometimes it seems like it, but no. I mean Vegas."

"Oh... right..." I turn my attention back to his cock which has begun to harden slightly. I'm considering how best to use it next.

"So you gamble a lot?"

"Depends on how you define gambling, I guess."

My hand has closed around his thickness by now, and I'm running it up and down from tip to root, marveling at how thick it is even now before it's fully hard, but again his words pull my attention away.

"What do you mean? How many ways are there to define it?" Despite their many differences, that statement reminds me of Harrison, always justifying his addiction with crazy excuses. I'm mentally prepared to hear something familiar, intentionally ignoring the warning bells that have begun to ring in my head.
He's not my boyfriend. He's just a fling.
Like the song says,
We're here for a good time, not a long time.

"Gambling implies chance, as in, the chance that you'll lose. I don't lose. I don't play games of chance. I play games of skill, or games where I know ahead of time that I'll win. I leave gambling for the tourists and the addicts."

He's looking at me seriously now, as if he believes what he's saying. "Isn't that what all gamblers tell themselves? They can't lose. Everyone else loses, just not me?" I've loosened my grip on him now, my hand being tickled by the coarse hair around the base of his shaft. Harrison always believed he was going to win. That he was
due
.

Chase shakes his head and shrugs. "People tell themselves a lot of things, and then they go and throw money on the roll of a die or the turn of a wheel. They try to anticipate the next card out of a five deck shoe or find the slot machine that's primed to pay off. That's gambling. Poker is a skill. It's about math and it's about paying attention. Most of all it's about reading emotion and knowing people."

"And you're an expert on people, are you?"

He smiles that little half smile that makes him look like he knows something important. It's cute, but infuriating at the same time. I feel his hand reach down and close around mine, which in turn closes around his cock again. "You're here, aren't you?"

"I don't have to be," I bite back. I give a little tug of my hand as if to pull away, but he holds me firmly. The hotness of his cock feels like it's burning my palm.

"My point is only that I could see that you and your boyfriend weren't happy. That he didn't value you. I gave you an out by showing you who he really was."

"Ex-boyfriend," I amend. "I don't cheat on the men in my life. Harrison became my ex as soon as he agreed to put me on the poker table."

"Ex," Chase nods.

"Well, I guess you were right about that, anyway," I concede. "Whether you really know people or whether that was just a lucky guess, I'm still not sure."

Chase looks at me with that little half smile again, as if my skepticism amuses him.

"What?"

"You really don't know who I am, do you?"

I shrug. "Should I?"

He's quiet for a moment as he watches me, but then changes the subject. "So what is it that you do, Lila Hunter from Canada?"

I can't help but sigh at the question. I hate when people ask me, only because I don't feel like I've really accomplished what I want yet. "I'm between jobs at the moment. I was working at a non-profit for a little while, helping raise money for local shelters."

"Sounds admirable. Why'd you leave?"

"Well, it seemed like the right thing to do when the news came out that the people running it weren't really taking the non-profit part of the job very seriously. They were funneling more money off shore than ever made it to the shelters."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

"So you lose your job and decide to come to Vegas to try to win next month's rent, is that it?"

I squint at him, unsure if he's teasing. "Coming to Vegas was Harrison's idea. He paid for the whole trip. Trust me, I'd rather be at home sending out resumes."

Chase nods, looking satisfied with my answer. "More non-profits?"

I shrug. "Maybe not, but something similar. Something where I feel like I can help people. I went to school for social work, but I haven't figured out what I want to focus on, exactly."

"The world needs a lot of help," he nods.

"Is your boyfriend in the same line of work? Sorry. Ex-boyfriend?"

I shake my head. The only person Harrison ever wants to help is himself, and the question is just another example of Harry and I being so completely different. I don't need another reminder of that. It's time to move on.

"I don't want to talk about Harrison," I say, turning my focus back between his legs. Chase can believe what he wants, but I know the truth. Anyone who gambles eventually loses everything. But I don't care. I'm not getting involved. I'm just here to take my mind off of Harry and Chase has something that I know will do the trick.

"Good," Chase says, his voice getting lower. "I have something much better in mind for that pretty mouth of yours anyway." He pulls on my arm and I lean forward onto my hands and knees, crawling forward between his legs.

I know exactly what he has in mind, and we're in complete agreement.