Jennifer Probst - Play Me

She ordered a seltzer at the bar and went to take her seat. The cameras whirred, but she clicked into the zone until the crowd was a distant murmur in the background. The clink of ice cubes against glass drifted to her ears, and suddenly she stiffened as the memory hit full force.

Roman.

A hot, wet tongue on her nipples. Sliding down so close to her aching pussy. Trapped from any visual stimuli and dependent on his breath and his touch to guide her. A long plummet into heat. Then icy cold slamming her back and wrecking her defenses. Again. And again.

His fingers and mouth on her clit, teasing, stimulating. On the edge of orgasm as she waited for his next move. The slam of painful cold against her throbbing nub, hurtling her over the edge. Her scream told him she belonged to him.

But when she woke up in the morning, he disappeared.

No note. No phone number. Just the smell of him and the indent of his head on the pillow next to her. The hurt cut razor sharp and shredded delicate flesh. Her one-night stand ended, and he’d disappeared as a good one-night stand should.

But he wasn’t one night to her.

He’d become everything.

She despised herself for thinking he wanted her for more than one night. She’d shared personal truths about her past she’d only shared with one other man before him. That man had rolled his eyes at her story and verbally lashed out. How could she be whining about her past when she earned millions? He had no patience for her or her poor little rich girl story. So, she’d locked herself back up tight and vowed to never share herself with another.

Until Roman.

She carefully set the glass down and made sure the ice didn’t clink. She pushed the hurt and ache down deep and prepared to play.

It wouldn’t have worked anyway. All men ended up jealous and angry. She’d watched her relationships crumble before her eyes until she couldn’t stand to be the loser any longer. It’s better this way. For me, especially.

The tournament began.

Her piles of chips grew, steadied, and dropped. Always in it for the long game, she liked to pace herself. When others began to tire, she became alive, hungry for the kill and the lure of the win. Her senses sharpened like an animal in the night, and she smelled blood. One facial reaction or flick of the cards could be a person’s downfall. She made her way through the long hours of the play, until day blended into night and blended back again.

With her chips, she had one opponent left. She fought to stay in the zone, but a shimmer of awareness crept up her spine. She turned her head a half inch and peeked from her peripheral vision.

Roman stood in the crowd watching her. His arms crossed against his powerful chest, hip out, feet in a wide relaxed stance. His silver hair glimmered under the casino lights, highlighting the foggy blue-gray of his eyes. For one moment, their gazes met, locked and delved deep.

He smiled.

Time stopped. That beautiful, masculine smile and the warm gleam in his gaze told her everything she wanted to know. Raw pride shimmered from every carved feature of his face. The quiet confidence in her ability, the naked emotion of possession, all told her he loved her.

She turned back to her hand. Victory pulsed in her blood, her face reflecting emotion for the first time in her life under the hot whirr of the camera.

And she knew she’d won.

When the chips were counted and congratulations from the players eased, she walked across the room to stand next to him.

“Good game, babe.”

A joyous smile curved her lips. “Thanks. Why’d you leave?”

He reached out a finger and trailed it down her cheek. “You needed to get in the zone. I would have just made you a bowl of mush with too many orgasms. I respect you.”

“I know.”

“I also love you. One lousy night and you got me. So, here’s what we’re going to do.”

She raised one brow. “Being bossy again, huh?”

He sighed with deep regret. “Why do you have to make everything difficult? Thank God I already have the necessary equipment to tame you.”

She stared at him with suspicion. “Equipment?”

“Handcuffs, blindfolds, whips, etc. So, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to cheer you on every step of the way while you make a shitload of money. Then you’re going to move in with me.”

She raised her chin. “I like my place better. You move in with me.”

“We’ll argue about which place is better later. In the meantime, you need some food and water and relaxation.”

“You don’t always know what I need, Mr. Roman Warrior. I had a hell of a day and I’ll tell you what I need.”

“Go ahead.”

She raised herself on tiptoe and spoke right against his lips. “I need an orgasm. So get your ass back up to my room and take care of it.”

His eyes heated with warning. A thrill raced down her spine.

“Good girl.” He lowered his head and kissed her deeply. “Let’s play.”

Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.

She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons, one 4 and one 6, keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean.

She is thrilled to contribute to the 1Night Stand series with her Steele Brothers stories, Catch Me, Play Me, and Dare Me. All of her books are available at her website or Amazon.

You can visit Jennifer at:

http://www.jenniferprobst.com