Play Me >> Styles

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Two wins placed her name at the top of the charts in Vegas. Unfortunately, most men couldn't handle the intimidation. Her last relationship bombed so badly she'd teetered on switching teams and going full lesbo. Not only was she physically hard up, it had been so long since she enjoyed an honest, open relationship she worried she'd become one of those very rich spinsters who spent their life doing things for charity. She fought a shudder at the thought.

But Harry Styles didn't seem too afraid of her.

And, God, she needed an orgasm.

How humiliating. The tabloids stalked and publicized her exotic hook-ups. Fortunately, the press had no idea they were mostly visual candy to throw people off track. Some of her most well known escorts were only good friends or gay. The ones she attempted to actually sleep with were...disappointing. Something must be wrong with her. Her climaxes gave her barely a hiccup of pleasure. She craved a man's body under her hands and warming her bed, so when her friend told her about Madame Eve, she decided she had nothing to lose. She did not engage in one-night stands for the risk factor. She believed in controlling all details, from her work to her play.

Pushing away her thoughts, she concentrated on her hand. Ten of clubs for her. Deuce for her one-night stand. She kept her head down and watched from the corner of her eye for every nuance of expression, and dug deep into her gut. Yes, he wasn't a safe player. Not stupid, but he liked risk. He'd ask for a hit fifty percent of the time when he should stay. She watched the dealer flip up an ace for himself.

She tapped her finger twice on the table. The solemn face of the Queen stared up at her. She hid a smile and put out her hand in the hold gesture. Harry's card slid across the table. Eight of hearts. A slight hesitation did him in, and his next hit revealed a six. Done.

Wayne kept his expression neutral as he dealt himself a card. Five of spades. Without a flicker of an eyelash, he hit himself again. Ten. Done.

The chips slid into her pile to match her first mound. She waited for the fake expression of awe she usually received from her dates. Instead, he treated her to a wolfish grin that promised he'd eat her for breakfast and enjoy every last bite. He grasped her wrist in a firm grip and pulled her forward so their lips were inches away.

"Nice warm up. But can you do it again?"

She laughed with sheer pleasure. "Of course."

"Fine. Do it again and you get me for the night to do whatever you want."

She gazed at him with suspicion. "I already did."

"Not yet."

Admiration cut through her. This man was not led around by his cock. Curiosity teased the question from her. "What do you get if you win?"

Determination and promise gleamed from his dark-green eyes in warning. His voice dropped to a growl. "You, of course. But you'll listen to everything I say without any back talk." He paused and deliberately stared at her with the look of a warrior issuing an order. "And obey."

She gave him an icy glare. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Her thighs clenched and her panties grew damp. Why did his commanding tone turn her on? Her nipples tightened painfully, her body on full alert, practically begging him to make good on his threat. She forced the excitement down, knowing she'd win. She always won. Still, he never backed down, and she wanted him in her bed. She licked her lips and nodded.

"Done."

Wayne dealt the cards. The stately king of diamonds winked at her. Harry took a five. The dealer turned over a lucky seven. They moved to the face down cards.