Trust (3 page)

"So, 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. 

"Suck my cock,
Lila," he growls.  My mouth is already full of him, so I take it as a
request to go deeper.  I reach under my chin for his heavy balls, rolling them
in my hand as my mouth slurps in as much of him as I can fit. 

"Holy shit,
Lila."

I'd smile if I could, but
settle for just humming an acknowledgment since I know that will add to his
pleasure.  He has a beautiful cock, but as much as I would love for him to come
down my throat right now, I need him to fuck me again instead.  That's the
release I need at the moment, which means this act is just a means to an end. 
Much like my entire motivation for being in this room in the first place.

"That's so fucking
good," he groans.  "My god..."

His hips are starting to
move and his hands have slid into my hair, so I know it's time to stop before
he gets carried away. 

"Fuck me,
Chase," I say when my mouth is free of him.  "I need you to fuck me
as hard as you can, okay?"

Our eyes meet and I can
tell he knows I'm serious, can read the desire from my gaze or hear it in the
quiver of my voice.  In a moment our positions are reversed and he's on top of
me, reaching across to the side table to grab a condom. 

I pull the wrapper from
him and tear it open, sliding it along his hardness and pulling him forward
much faster than he would have been able to do on his own.  In moments I'm
filled with him again, and my hands and nails are digging into his muscled
back, urging him forward as fast and as hard as he can manage.

Chase responds in the way
I need, thrusting into my core while my cries of ecstasy urge him forward.

"You're so fucking
hot," he pants.  "I love how much you want me."

I can't remember needing
a fuck as badly as I do right now, and Chase's cock is more than enough to
satisfy my craving.  Sex with Harrison had always been okay, but never so
powerful.  Never as animalistic.  I rarely came from Harry's cock alone, but
now I'm on the verge of my second orgasm from Chase.  Part of it is probably
just situational.  Something about the almost anonymity of this gorgeous
sort-of-maybe-famous stranger with the thick and heavy dick pounding into me. 
I can't discount that.  But there's another part of it.  Chase is sensual. 
Powerful.  Something in his eyes and his little half smile. 

It probably gets him laid
all the time. 

"Fuck," I
breathe heavily into his shoulder as he pushes so deeply into me that he hits a
spot that hasn't been stimulated in months. 

"So tight," he
groans back.  I imagine everyone seems tight around the monster he's packing. 
My nails dig harder into his back and he lets out an even louder noise.

"Fucking come,"
I whisper.  "I want you to come."  My own orgasm is on me as my eyes
roll back into my head.  Waves of pleasure rock through my body and all I want
is for Chase to join me in his own hot release.  I squeeze tightly around the
fleshy intruder between my legs, pulling him forward with my legs around his
back.

Chase responds, his
tattooed back stiffening with tension even as his cock releases spasms of
sexual fury inside of me. 

The weight of him as he
collapses down in exhaustion is a welcome shield to the emotion beginning to
well up inside of me.  I've let the sex and Chase and this hotel room and
everything else distract me, but I can't ignore the feelings any more.  It's
one thing to know that my relationship with Harrison is finally over
officially, after all I haven't been blind to its looming demise hovering over
us for weeks, but it was another to see how callously he cast me aside on a
whim.  Obviously the choice to follow Chase up here was mine, despite what was
agreed upon by the men at the table, but just the fact that Harry would even
offer me up like that was devastating.

I bury my face against
Chase's shoulder, hoping to hide the tears.  He stiffens again, and then pulls
me closer into a tight embrace, as if knowing exactly what I'm feeling.  Maybe
he felt the wetness against his skin, or the gasp in my breath as I tried to
hold in a sob.  In any case, he understands what I need and I'm grateful not to
have to hide it anymore, so I bite back any shame I'm feeling at breaking down
so completely and begin to sob.  My chest heaves and I gasp, letting the tears
run down my face until they meet his skin, the contours of his muscled shoulder
carrying them away.  In response, Chase only wraps his warm embrace around me
even tighter without saying a word.

He lets me cry for a
while, holding me against him and running his hand up and down my back and
through my hair.  It's peaceful, and feels more intimate than it should, given
I just met the guy an hour ago.  More intimate, even, than the sex.  But it's
what I need, and he seems to know it.

That cry was born of more
than just tonight.  Frustration over the last few weeks, months even, knowing
that the end was coming.  Harrison and I had a relationship like the final
firework on the fourth of July.  Hot flame started us off and we shot high, and
the big explosion made us feel wide eyed and happy.  But as soon as it started
to fade, disappointment settled in.  For me, at least.   I kept waiting. 
Looking around for more explosions of passion that never came, trying
desperately to replace the memory burned into my head of what was. 

Tonight is me finally
realizing that the show is over, and I'm not interested in sitting through the
next show.  I don't want another one time explosion of passion that I'll have
to try to cling to for months. 

Chase's hand rests on my
back, no longer running up and down my skin.  The sound and rhythm of his
breathing tells me he's asleep.  He held onto consciousness long enough to wait
for me to stop sobbing before letting himself fall asleep.  He might not be as
much of an ass as I first thought, but he's still just a rebound.  A convenient
distraction from my immediate pain.  In some ways it would have been easier if
he was an ass.

He's still cocky,
though.  He still made a gamble to get me up here, and like a fool I went for
it anyway. 

I should leave now, but
my eyes are heavy and I really have nowhere else to go.  I repeatedly promised
I wouldn't sleep with Chase, but actual sleep seems pretty tame compared to
what we just finished doing. 

But in the morning I
really need to get the hell out of here.