When Sailor and Hunter fell in love, we all knew he was a playboy yet still supported their relationship. Kill had a terrible reputation, but so far, he proved himself to me more than Hunter did to Sailor before they went steady.
“I’m a good poker player.” Belle bowed a silky eyebrow.
She wasn’t good. She was the best. And she knew it.
“Me too,” Sailor said.
Kill smirked. “I’ll take my chances.”
Fifteen minutes later, everybody was engrossed in the game. Sailor, the most competitive woman on the planet, kept wiping at her brow every time she pulled a card. Belle refused to lose focus, not taking part in the conversation in the room. My husband lounged in his chair, his body language bored and lax, occasionally throwing an idle remark about the stock market, which Hunter and Devon discussed at length.
“So. You want a divorce.” His smooth baritone trickled deep into my body. He picked up our conversation from the afternoon when I asked him to set me free if he was going to continue ignoring me.
“If I’m destined for a life chasing after my husband begging him to get into bed with me, then yes, I want a divorce. You never should’ve married me if you don’t find me attractive.”
“I do find you attractive.” He frowned at a card he drew from the pack, businesslike. “The problem is I find you too attractive.”
“I’m confused,” I said even though I was anything but. I just wanted him to tell me something reassuring. Boost my shattered ego.
“So am I. Every time I look at you. Which is why I’ve been avoiding you.”
“I have needs.” I shook my head.
“And I have skills,” he quipped back, putting his cards down, picking an orange chip and tapping it on the oak surface. He dropped one arm under the table casually. A moment later, his heavy, hot hand settled on my inner thigh.
My breath hitched. I wore an off-shoulder emerald-green dress that barely reached my knees. He hiked his fingers up until his hand nestled in the crook between my thigh and groin.
“Your move, Kill.” Sam threw one of his cards into the pile.
My husband pushed a stack of chips to the center of the table. The players looked around, gauging each other’s reaction. Kill took the opportunity to graze his fingers over the cotton of my panties, nudging the fabric sideways.
He trailed two fingers over my exposed slit, exploring lazily, teasing my flesh without entering me. I shuddered, feeling my nipples hardening.
Belle frowned at her cards. “He’s bluffing. I raise.”
She dragged more chips to the center of the table.
“So brazen with other people’s money.” Kill smiled idly.
“I’m always brazen,” Belle corrected. “But when it comes to putting assholes in their place, I’m also gleeful about it.”
“I fold.” Sailor tossed her cards, wincing at my sister. “Sorry. You know it physically hurts me to lose.”
“Me too, dammit.” Hunter smacked his cards on the table.
Devon, whom I gathered from our few interactions was a total snake, chuckled, his eyes moving between Belle and Cillian.
“Is this a who’s-got-the-biggest-cock competition? Because Emmabelle, my darling, I would be sorely disappointed if you win.”
“But not undeterred,” Sam muttered. “Roll your fucking tongue back into your mouth. You’re drooling into the tortilla bowl.”
My sister stared at my husband expectantly, but Cillian hadn’t bothered noticing anyone in the room. His expert fingers were now playing with my clit, his thumb rubbing my slit under the table, unaffected by the fact everyone’s eyes were on him. Every muscle in my body tightened deliciously, begging for release.
I liked that we had an audience even though they weren’t aware of it.
“Show us your cards,” Emmabelle snarled.
“Ask nicely,” he schooled her.
“Goddammit, Kill, read the room. You’re about a snarky remark away from getting stabbed.” Hunter laughed.
Cillian turned his cards with his free hand. Everyone leaned over the table to examine them just as he slipped a finger into my core, curling it, his thumb pushing against my clit.
I gasped, twisting my fingers over the edge of the table.
Mother of dragons.
“Are you okay, Pers?” Sailor turned to me.
“I don’t know about her, but her husband sure isn’t.” Belle revealed her cards in triumph, making everyone wheeze. “You’ve got nothing, American Psycho. I, however, have a full house.”
Using both her arms, she collected the chips in the center of the table.
“I’m fine, just…just…” I panted, trying to string a sentence together, but Kill pushed another finger into me, now pumping in and out, the pad of his thumb still circling my sensitive bud. I was soaked, shamelessly trying to arch my back and grind against more of his hand. I was also pretty sure if people around us shut up for a second, they could hear the slurps that erupted when he played me like an instrument.
“You what?” Sailor pressed.
“I pulled a muscle in my foot.” I reached for my drink, forcing myself to swallow down a sip, my fingers shaking so bad the water sloshed over.