Mikayla

 

 

Jagger excels at anything his hand touches. He’s a beast with a gun. The way he touched my body was such perfection that I’m starting to have withdrawals being forced to go without more. And here, in the middle of Caesar’s Palace high stakes lounge, he started off with BlackJack, which has a $50,000 minimum on a single hand. The chips he started with have begun to stack up. With champagne in my hand, I lean close to him, and have to force myself not to close my eyes while breathing in his intoxicatingly sexy scent.

My hand rubs over his bicep, heck, I’m just playing my part. The instant I laid eyes on him, sitting in the living room of our suite a few hours ago, lust blossomed, and my wetness trickled ever so softly onto my thong. And then the asshole said something rude, as usual. I take another sip. I’ve come to the conclusion that Sinclair is a woman. Trick mentioned her twice. The first time was when I woke from being unconscious, the second time, during his fight with Jagger he spoke of her beauty.

He’d said I was just as beautiful. Or maybe more…

But Sinclair is from their world. She’s the type of woman that attracts a man like Jagger.

I watch as Jagger completes the hand movements that let the dealer know he is choosing to ‘stay’ or be ‘served’ with yet another card. Each time, he adds to his stacks of cash. The Filipino dealer moves methodically and fluid as he tosses him more money than I’ve ever laid eyes on. He loses once, tosses a golden coin his way and continues.

“Kiss me.” His thick lips are surrounded by bristles and hardly move. Jagger does a hand movement to stay. “Mikayla, kiss me now, and stop staring.”

Damn, I have been drooling on the man I’m supposed to be pretending to be married to! I reach over to offer him a peck on the lips. His hand clasps the back of my neck and doesn’t let me go. He claims my mouth in a kiss so strong that my heartbeat thumps in my ears.

“That’s a right beautiful good luck charm you have there.” A man’s voice says from the behind me.

“Very lucky,” the Filipino nods as I sit back on my stool and glance around. Jagger reaches past me and shakes none other than William Freedman’s hand.

“Jace Windhoek,” he says.

Oh, damn, I forgot.

“And this here is Alisha Windhoek, she’s the gold coin, the wishbone, the lady bug,  the rabbits foot, the pot of gold, all of that,” Jagger adds.

William’s eyes are trained on my breasts. I wore this outfit to tempt Jagger, when I grabbed it from the rack on the way to the cash register three days ago, all I noticed was the gold tone of it, and how it would look perfect with my then hair color. Now, I’m afraid to sneeze, let alone shake what my momma gave me by way of feeding me so much southern food.

“Shooting star.” William finally gazes directly into my eyes. Crap, he’s as handsome as Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. Salt and pepper hair, tanned skin,  and a suit cut specifically for him. I cock a confused eyebrow at what he just stated.

“Lucky as a shooting star,” he repeats. “And as gorgeous as the day is long, Alisha, you truly are a shooting star. I do believe your husband may have mentioned every good luck charm but the one that epitomized your eyes.”

This old hound!

Jagger’s rigid muscles are hardening even further on the opposite side of me.

***

For about an hour, I sit back sipping glass after glass of champagne. The ambiance is perfect. It reeks of money, as men and women, even more beautiful and rich than the last, enter the high stakes area. Every once in a while, I lose myself to encouraging Jagger.

My mind roams with the thought of this being real. Maybe not us being husband and wife – there are too many facets that make up a marriage. But us… together.

“You’re doing so good,” I’d tell him. And then, feeling as if my motivation didn’t include enough chemistry, my mouth would seek his for a solitary kiss.

A kiss that would blow my mind, for all of a few seconds, as the Filipino dealer sets up another hand. It’s in those moments, when Jagger and I kiss, that I can truly stop focusing on the thought that I’m one of two people that know how long William Freedman has left to live.  I’m also able to ignore just how creepy he is, leering at me the way he is, while engaging me in conversation.

“I like the two of you,” Freedman says, as he stands up and flicks a golden poker chip toward the dealer. “Will you still be in Vegas tomorrow morning? I’d like to invite you to breakfast?”

I glance to Jagger.

“Alisha, you must meet my wife. You look to your husband at every turn. That is true obedience. I love it.” He places his hand on my shoulder, allowing it to linger almost longer than necessary.

I grin and bear it. Acting as meek as I swear I’d never be. William asks Jagger, “Well, will you be here tomorrow?”

“We sure will.” Jagger moves a $100,000 piece through his fingers. He’s done a good job at hiding the scars on his hands. Although, Jagger’s muscular body is filled with blemishes that only seem to enhance his rugged sexiness, I can’t fathom how he’d explain away the hacking he took to his palms. But he moves the expensive piece ever so smoothly. Forget about the pain he has to be enduring, I can’t believe he’s so comfortable. No pangs of remorse about his intentions show on his face or in the way he holds himself.

“Good, I’d like the chance to persuade the two of you into a few things. Tom here,” Williams refers to the butler that came with the villa he boasted about during the game, “will make arrangements for tomorrow morning, I must be going.”

Jagger and I head out of the lounge a few minutes after William leaves. “So why didn’t we follow after him, get it done with already,” I asked, ready for it to be over.

“Were you aware of how many guards were in the room with him?” he replies, exasperated.

“No, somehow, I assumed you’d be capable of handling that.”

“I am.” Jagger steps before me. “Let’s clear the air. I could have murdered him while he was exiting the car at the valet, or even leaving the airport…”

“But now the two of us have made a freaky friend. I can just bet the proposition he has for us.” My eyebrows furrow and I start to ask Jagger why he’d want or need me for this mission. “Jag–”

“If he asks to fuck you, I’ll murder him with my bare hands.”

“What’s option number two?”

“I allow you to pull the trigger.”

Jagger starts walking. I’m rooted to the same spot. People move around us. He comes back and grabs my hand.

“Jagger, I’m not that type of person.”

“I wasn’t a jealous man until William slobbered all over your breasts.”

I chuckle. “He didn’t.”

“There,” he promises, pointing at my chest.

I glare at Jagger.

“There, Mikayla, just look down,” he says with conviction.

My eyes slide down then back up and pop down again, dammit, he tricked me! “Jagger!” I exclaim, filled with laughter.

“Why are you so happy about it?” he asks, pulling me into his arms. “I’m miserable.”

“You’re miserable? You made almost $200 grand tonight, so I’d say you made out like a bandit. Can we go do something fun, tonight. We agreed no talk of tossing me to Prince Fari until… this is over so… let’s have fun tonight.”

“Like what?” His eyebrows furrow.

“Pft. Have you ever been here before?” I ask sarcastically.

“On four occasions,” he says somberly.

“Oh, I guess you had to for your missions. Come on, Jagger, let’s have some fun…” I tug his arm in the direction of The Strip exit, instead of toward valet. Jagger’s story about his parents broke my heart. Although, I’m eager to learn more, I wonder if his rigid ways have something to do with how he was raised.

The night is young, well, it’s almost 11 p.m. so it’s young by Las Vegas standards, and the masses are just now getting busy.

***

We make it half a block before I trade in my stilettos for a pair of flip flops with the old school ‘Las Vegas sign’ brand on them. I have a super margarita in hand, and Jagger at my side, when water shoots into the sky from the fountains at the Bellagio hotel.

“What’s that?” he asks, mildly interested as a mass of people migrate toward the area.

“You can’t be serious,” I squeak, arching a disbelieving brow.

The left side of his mouth tips a little. “I saw it briefly one morning while passing by on a motorcycle, Mikayla. Have you seen enough, yet?”

“Nope–”

Jagger has me in his arms in seconds, placing me on his broad shoulders. My legs are wrapped around him, and my valley is right behind his head. The entire scene passes quickly, but I’m feeling self-conscious about the intimacy of this moment. Seems like the water is soaring from the lake for hours, and my mind shoots to the gutter with thoughts of his mouth on my hidden lips.

All I can think is that it reminds me of shots of cum soaring from his cock…sheesh, I need to get a grip. Just like that, Jagger has pulled me down, in front of him. He holds me to him, his mouth just inches from mine.

I gaze at his lips, silently begging him to kiss me.

“Mikayla, I am going to fuck you tonight.”

My mouth is salivating, and the lips of my pussy are just as wet.

He grips my ass. “Nod your head.”

It’s almost subconscious, this need to obey him. After a hard gulp, I shake my head. “Um… no.”

“Your brain isn’t connected correctly, sweetheart, so I’ll remind you of the trouble there’s to be had for disobeying me.”

“Put me down, Jagger.” Who says these kinds of thing?

He sets me down and presses his lips against my forehead. “I’ll fuck you good or I’ll spank and then fuck the bad out of you, Mikayla. I prefer the latter, your pussy might not be ready for that, though. Just a tip. Now, what’s next? The only fun I’ve had tonight was a few deep inhales of your sweet cunt, while you were watching the fountain.” He tosses a thumb over his shoulder, as if he’s in the throes of boredom.

 

Next, we try the zipline in downtown on Fremont Street. There I’m placed in another intensely sexual type of situation. This time Jagger is positioned behind me. He’s harder than a lumberjack’s ax, and the feel of it has me shift as I’m being hooked up to the wiring.

The ride lasts less than a minute.

“Can I get you to make one happy facial expression? Just one?” I ask while holding the photo of us from our ride. It’s the cutest thing ever. I’m in shock, and Jagger has the “meh” emoji expression.

“I liked it,” he deadpans. Jagger then proceeds to tell me about the next activity we’ll do. Something told me that he had a trick up his sleeve, but I don’t find out what it is until I’m alone, 600 feet in the sky, with the beast…