Page 5 of Double or Nothing

“Definitely not a lifelong companion kind of dick.” I smile. “Not a quick fuck outside the club kind of dick either. Yeah, I’d say something in between.” I pause, soaking him in. My heart is fucking racing. “And you?”

“I’m usually a one-nighter kind of guy, but who knows? Someone might change my mind.”

I’m still stumbling over my thoughts. “Is that a chat-up line?”

His laugh is an explosion of jest. “Jesus, man, is this your first time in any club, not just this one? Yes, it’s a chat-up line.”

I slap my forehead, joining in with his laughter. “I’m a long time out of the action. Go easy on me, alright?”

His laughter stops. Just like that, and his grin turns into a straight up smirk.

“I never go easy.”

His words are laced. Laced enough to get my crotch pulsing. The glint in his eyes is full of heat. And he has me. I shift on my stool, my dick hard, and he notices that in a flash.

“Nice to know we’re on the same page.”

This is insane. I could pinch myself and still not quite believe it. I’m a rationalist. A realist. Someone who didn’t expect to hit a jackpot of a lay on night one.

“Let’s roll things back a bit,” Jack says. “Tell me about yourself, Bryce.”

I take a swig of my beer. “How about you test out your psychic skills some more and tell me a bit about myself? Let’s see how well you do.”

“Ooh, I do love a challenge.” His eyes make me prickle as they rove. “I’d say you’re a city boy, not raised in the great outdoors. Maybe thirty years old.”

“Twenty-nine.”

“So close.” I love his smile. “Corporate. Maybe, I dunno, either tech or finance.” He pauses. “Finance, yes. High end. Posh clients and colleagues.”

I tip my head. “Fucking hell. Are you one of those street magicians or something? Want a coin from my wallet so you can make it disappear in a puff of smoke?”

He leans in. “I don’t need a coin from your wallet, Bryce, and I’m neither a magician, nor a psychic. Want some actual insight from me?”

“Please.”

“You tensed up at the word finance. Just a bit. Right here.” He squeezes my shoulder, and the touch gives me bastard butterflies. “As for high level, that’s clear from your watch, and the posh colleague part is obvious. You keep checking your cufflinks, so you must be used to being pristine all day long.”

“Top marks.”

We clink glasses.

“Your turn,” he says. “Tell me about me.”

I’m burning up, he’s so fucking hot.

“Come on,” Jack pushes. “Test your skills.”

Time to test myself.

“There are a few things I can tell you.” I dare to lean in even closer. “You’re blond, psychic, and hot as hell.”

“Why, thank you. That’s good to hear. Keep going.”

I don’t baulk from his stare. The guy can talk about me being used to posh colleagues, but he’s the one with the loose tie around his neck tonight, not me.

“You’re about the same age as me. Bartender for an upmarket boys’ club, maybe. Practiced playboy for sure.”

“Ouch. You got me on the playboy.” He holds a hand to his heart. “And I’m twenty-nine in April. I guess two out of three ain’t bad. I’m not a bartender. I own a casino, I don’t serve in one. I did used to be a bartender though, once upon a time. Maybe the scent still lingers.”