West had a deck at his place. He also brought over his stock of alcohol and snacks from his mini fridge, and along with mine, we have a little beer, wine, and snack fest going on.
So far, we’ve played two games of rummy. I won the first. He won the second. This third game is the decider. And I have to win.
Have to.
I grab a handful of Haribo gummy bears and toss them in my mouth.
I notice West staring at me as I chew.
“What?” I ask, curling my tongue around a bit of a gummy bear that’s gotten stuck in my back tooth.
“Nothing.”
“So, why are you staring at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“With that furrow in your brow. Total concentration. Hey … you’re not trying to read my mind, are you? Find out what cards are in my hand?” I raise a brow.
“Yes, Double D,” he deadpans, “that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“Knew it!” I pop the gummy bear piece out of my tooth and then grab another handful from the bag. “Cheater, cheater, compulsive eater,” I sing, and then I toss the handful of gummy bears into my mouth.
I chew on them and stare down at my cards.
When I look back up, he’s staring at me again.
“You’re staring again.”
His lips quirk at one side into a sexy smirk. “Fine. I like watching you. You’re nice to look at. And I especially like watching you put something in your mouth. Preferably my cock. But the gummy bear will do. For now.”
For now. I’d say I love his confidence. But it’s warranted. Because he’s right. There’s a hundred percent chance that his dick will be inside of my mouth at some point tonight.
But I definitely won’t be chewing on that.
“That’s weird. But kinda hot.”
“I know. And it’s your turn.”
Sighing, I pick up a card.
For crying out loud. Not one I need. I dump it back on the pile.
“So, have you used the bath in your villa?” I ask him.
I’ve been here a week and still not used it yet. I can’t believe it’s been a week. It’s flown by. You can bet your sweet arse if I’d been here alone and miserable, that time would have dragged. But because I’m with West, having lots of sex and fun, it’s flying by.
One week gone. One week left.
“Nope, not used it. You used yours?”
“Nope.” I pick my wineglass up and take a sip.
West picks up the card I just put down and then lays one of his cards down.
Not one I need. Ugh.
“I want to though before I leave. I mean, when else will I get the chance to have a bath outside, where no one can see me and I get to see the view of the ocean from the tub?”
I pick up another card from the deck. Ooh, I can use this one. I ditch one of my useless cards onto the stack.
“We should take a bath. Together,” West says to me.
“When?”
“Now.”
“Now?” I frown. “But it’s still raining. And we’re in the middle of a deciding game here, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.” He picks up a card from the pack. “We’re taking a bath, Dillon.” He glances out at the rain. “I reckon it’s gonna stop soon anyway.”
I kid you not; it’s like the clouds themselves are listening to him and are willing to give him what he wants because it stops raining not even a minute later.
I stare at him and then at the outside, where the sun has come out to play. Then back at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you could actually control the weather.”
He grins. “Maybe I can.” He drops a card on the stack. “Now, go run that bath because rummy,” he says, laying his cards down.
Motherfucker.
He won.
He bloody fucking won.
Ugh!
I stand up, tossing my cards on the table between us. “I can’t believe you won,” I huff. “Stupid fucking game anyway.”
I stomp away from him in the direction of the bathtub to the sound of his low chuckle.
I can’t believe he won again. I always win when I play cards.
Well, we’re definitely having a rematch because I’m not leaving it there.
I turn on the bath taps and pop the plug in. Testing the hot water, I go in and grab the complimentary bubble bath. I pour some under the running water. It smells divine. So, I pour a little more in.
I love lots of bubbles in the bath.
I’m standing, watching the bath fill, when the sound of West’s voice turns me around.
“Have you stopped sulking yet?” He steps out of the bathroom to join me on the concealed deck, where the bathtub sits, and hands me my refilled glass of wine.
I take it from him and toss some wine back. “I wasn’t sulking,” I mutter.
“Uh-huh.”
“Losing doesn’t bother me. At all.”
“Okay.”
“I just know I can play that game well and—”