CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Owen
The Club was more packed than I’d seen it in a while with barely enough room to squeeze through people and good odds of bumping elbows. A nagging voice in the back of my mind warned me it was because word had gotten out that I was going to be bringing Tabby, but I dismissed the thought in favor of not fanning my ego. I recognized everyone there, of course, but some of the faces were almost unfamiliar to me as I hadn’t seen many for over a year. I wondered if this auction was something special I hadn’t learned about or if it was simply happenstance that tonight should be the night that drew in a crowd.
Howie was standing at the nearest bar to the door with his arm leaned on the countertop and his eyes swiveling from left to right so rapidly he looked like one of those cat clocks grandmothers and retro-lovers hung in their kitchens. I’d seen him doing this before, scoping out the women. I didn’t know if he had registered to bid in the auction or not, but even if he hadn’t that wouldn’t have deterred him. Plenty of women hung around in The Club without being auctioned, which gave him ample opportunity to take someone home, and Howie’s goal was always to take someone home. Rather than going over to him to say hello and socialize, however, I curved my hand around Tabby’s waist and guided her in the opposite direction. It was rude, perhaps, but I’d seen the look on Howie’s face when I mentioned Tabby might show up tonight, and his remorseless lechery wasn’t something I intended to subject Tabby to — not in the least because it raised my hackles.
“Wow,” she murmured as we wound our way through people. I nodded silent greetings to those I made eye contact with as we passed. “Last time was dead compared to this.”
“Last time was the usual,” I told her. “This is a rarity.”
“Is there a special event happening tonight or something?”
Again, I wondered if the crowd had shown up because they considered Tabby a hot commodity and wanted to try their hand at winning her over, but I wasn’t going to share my theory with her. “Not that I know of,” was my simple answer.
We reached the second bar, which was surrounded three-deep, and waited to get our chance at the front. As we did, I performed a brief scan of the room. Bruno was nowhere to be seen, for which I was grateful, but I did spy Tripp Lubbock in the mix. He’d shown particular interest in Tabby the last time I brought her. My territorial nature roared to life, and I shielded her from his view with my body.
By the time we reached the bar, I was genuinely parched. I ordered drinks and watched with interest as Tabby continued looking around. Her eyes spoke the things her mouth didn’t. She found Hugo Ivanov’s chin wobble amusing. Tyrone Warwick’s diamond-crusted teeth repulsed her. The gliding way Delilah, the Dealer, walked made her envious. It didn’t occur to me I was learning to read her wordlessly until she glanced up at me for a split second and I responded as if she’d spoken.
“He’s had that hairstyle since I’ve known him. He claims it’s a tribute to John Lennon,” I said, referencing the shaggy, unkempt hairdo of a rather eccentric member.
She smiled. “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”
“It’s what everyone is thinking,” I chuckled, choosing not to tell her I’d actually known by some cosmic connection that made me wholly uncomfortable.
The bartender handed me two beverages, and I gave one to Tabby. Then, I looked around to point out someone else we could comment on. As I did, however, I noticed a familiar profile in the room, and it was the kind of familiar of which I wasn’t fond.
Pippa.
She hadn’t spotted me, but I knew it was only a matter of time as long as I was lingering by the bar. I wasn’t necessarily afraid of Tabby and Pippa crossing paths, but I didn’t relish the thought either. Frankly, I would have found it embarrassing to admit to Tabby I’d bid on Pippa on more than one occasion because the two women were complete opposites in regard to redeeming qualities and personal depth. My having an association with Pippa made me look bad, not in the eyes of my Club comrades but certainly to someone who’d made a point of telling me over dinner she didn’t need to be showered in riches to be wooed.
“Come on,” I said, taking Tabby’s free hand in mine. “Let’s play a few hands.”
I started walking before she could respond, but when we neared an available blackjack table she hesitated. “Oh, you actually want to play cards.”
“Yeah, why?” I asked with a smirk. “Did you think it was an innuendo for something?”
She rolled her eyes. “I never know with you.”
With a saucy wink, I gestured to one of the open chairs. “Have a seat.”
She slipped onto the chair, her dress smoothing over her thighs and dipping into the gap between them, but she looked up at me with mild concern and admitted, “I don’t know how to play.”
“You don’t know how to play blackjack?” I asked, disbelieving.
She shook her head.
A thrill shuddered through me, and I sank onto the seat beside her. “Then, I guess I’ll have to teach you.”
Actually, this news was better than I could’ve hoped for. I had a plan in mind, and this being her maiden voyage into the world of 21 was more than accommodating to the intricacies I’d whipped up. She didn’t know a thing about the plan yet, of course, but it was going to be that much more fun when she found out…
The dealer was a woman called Christie, an Amazon of a female with hips that rose well above the playing surface and shoulders that chronically hunched forward a fraction from her many hours bent over the table. She was pretty in her own way, but she’d found her place in The Club with the cards rather than on the stage. I smiled at her in greeting and announced, “We have ourselves a blackjack virgin here.”
“How fun!” she exclaimed. Christie was one of those women with a naturally nurturing aura. She possessed an approachability rare to find inside the secret walls, and I saw Tabby’s uncertainty start to dissolve beneath Christie’s friendly watch. “It’s not hard, honey. It’s mostly luck with a little skill.”
“Unless you’re counting. Then it’s all skill,” I pointed out.
Christie shook a finger at me. “Now, don’t be a bad influence, Mr. Driscoll.”
“Too late for that,” Tabby chimed in, shooting me a taunting sideways glance.
I raised a brow and smothered my smirk. It was evident she was waiting for me to come back with a zinger of my own, but I refrained. I had something else in mind, which she’d discover soon enough.
Sliding Christie some hundreds and doling out the chips she gave between Tabby and me, I placed a hand in my left pocket. A small, smooth something met my fingers, and I fiddled with it subtly to find the round protrusion on the top. Tabby didn’t notice.
“Room for two more?”
I looked over my shoulder to see Tripp Lubbock with a woman who’d participated in auctions a couple of times. Aurora, her name was. Not wanting to be rude but also not entirely pleased with Tripp’s presence, I plastered on a good-to-see-you face. “Of course.”
“I see you didn’t frighten away your lovely guest last time,” he noted, taking the chair next to me without bothering to help his date into hers.
Tabby smiled politely at him. “Nice to see you.” I didn’t like the exchange, but she disconnected her eyes from his immediately after and I knew she wasn’t interested in him the way he was in her.
Christie started shooting cards at us, and I ignored mine to lean toward Tabby. “You want the sum of your cards to be twenty-one, or as close to twenty-one as possible,” I told her. “Right now, you’ve got thirteen. You can get another card to try and get to twenty-one, but if you go over you bust and automatically lose the hand, or you can hold and hope the dealer isn’t closer to twenty-one than you are.”
“It sounds easy enough,” she said. She looked up to Christie. “I want another card.”
I grinned broadly. Her spunk delighted me, her willingness to jump into things even when they were completely unfamiliar to her, but I was also praying Christie dealt her a nine or higher. If she lost, my fun would begin.
King.
“Damn! I-aaaah!”
My finger pressed into the round protrusion I’d made sure to locate on the device in my pocket, and Tabby’s whole body jerked like she’d been electrocuted. Christie, Tripp, and Aurora whipped their faces toward her in alarm, and several members standing nearby glanced in our direction. I pushed the button again, and Tabby relaxed slightly.
“Are you okay, honey?” Christie asked with concern.
For a second, Tabby didn’t answer. She was looking at me through wide, glassy eyes and her mouth was hanging open just enough for her breath to whoosh out and caress my chin. “Yeah,” she said. Her voice was mildly breathless, and she didn’t look at Christie as she said it. Her stare was locked firmly on me. I raised an eyebrow at her innocently, but she wasn’t falling for it.
“What did you do?” she hissed.
“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” I dismissed, forcing my mouth to remain stoic despite the smug cackle rising in my throat.
We played through the hand, and it seemed like Tabby was going to let it go. As Christie set up our second round, however, Tabby examined me out of the corner of her eye. She reluctantly said, after a brief glimpse of her cards, “Another one, please.”
Christie dealt a seven. “Sorry, darlin’.” I pushed the button again, and Tabby twitched violently. This time, she managed to keep quiet, but I didn’t fail to notice the way she clenched her jaw and sucked her lips between her teeth to stop herself from making a noise. The upper curves of her cheeks were beginning to turn a pale shade of pink visible even in the dim lighting. My groin started to throb.
On the third hand, Tabby won. While I was disappointed I’d missed an opportunity to play with my device, I was utterly charmed by the way Tabby lit up and clapped her hands girlishly upon her success.
“Congratulations,” I murmured.
“Thank you!” she cried. Then, her expression changed to suspicion, and she dropped her voice. “Wait a minute. Nothing happened this time.”
“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” I repeated. I turned to my own cards, but I could feel her accusatory gaze burning into my temple.
Then, the fourth hand played out. Before Christie even laid the requested card down, I tapped the button. It was worth it. The card made a bust, and Tabby let out a whispered moan only I could hear. Her chest started rising and falling a little more rapidly as her breaths grew shallower, and the pinkness in her cheeks turned to soft redness. I let it ride. Quicker and quicker her exhalations came, and she grabbed my arm so hard I was sure her nails left the same kind of imprints in my skin that they had on my limo seats despite her holding onto me through a jacket and a button-down shirt. Seeing her so horny made me rock-hard, and I considered suggesting we just return to her hotel rather than staying for the auction.
“Stop,” she gasped desperately. Her eyes were pleading and watery at the edges with stimulation. “It’s going to make me—”
I pushed the button to turn the device off, and she panted for breath. Christie was watching us with confusion while Tripp was chewing on his lower lip with fascination.
“You have me wearing vibrating panties!” she whispered harshly into my ear.
I brushed her hair aside with my nose, licked the rim of her ear with the very tip of my tongue, and whispered back, “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart.”