When the Dark Wins

“You win, I let you write this note. You lose”—his eyes ran a hot line down her belly, between her thighs—“I take this pussy.”

Double or nothing.

The words were her drug.

The odds are the same, Bucks. Every time. You know that.

But there was still a chance. She fumbled for a die, refusing to look away as though he might jump on her. Her fingers found it, Squeezed.

Come on, Bucky.

Rolled. Looked.

Four.

Her heart pounded. Not bad, not bad.

August dropped his die. Buckeye about dropped dead.

“Looks like today ain’t your day,” he said, while they both stared at the five. “Now stand your ass back up.” He was already coming to his feet.

No!

“Wait!”

She grabbed up the dice. Thrust her fist in the air for him to take one back.

His grin dripped victory. “Honey, you already lost.”

“One more.” She jabbed the fist at him. “I win, you give me the paper after. You still … get to …” Nodded to his ready prick. Couldn’t bring herself to say it.

The smile grew. He took one of the die. “You win, you can have the paper during,” he amended.

“Fine.”

“I win,” he said, “We’re gonna see how much of this fits in your ass.”

Buckeye growled and looked at the backs of her eyelids. Took a long, slow inhale.

Let’s get lucky.

“Fine.”

His die clacked to the ground, and he put a foot on it, hiding the top face.

She grimaced and let hers tumble out of her palm.

Twin spots, plain as day.

Fuck. Really? Come on. Come ON!

August lifted his boot. His grin wilted.

“Well look at you,” he said, scraping the snake eye he’d rolled out of the way. “Maybe you are lucky.”

Her heart started beating again as he retrieved the stubby pencil and notebook. Handed them down.

“Now get up here.”