Page 90 of Nest of Thieves
Throwing my head back, I release a boisterous laugh. Vette growls again, all for show, and rips his hand from my leg.
“Don’t be a bitch.”
Scowling, I shoot him a scathing look. “Don’t mind him, he forgot to take a nap today.”
The other players laugh and thus begins the first part of our plan. Over the next half hour, Vette continues to lose, and I order another drink. Everyone at the table thinks I’m three drinks in, and I make sure to raise my voice with every passing minute.
“Another loss? Perhaps I married the wrong alpha.” I bat my eyelashes at one of the older men at the table.
Vette looses a real growl.
I smirk a little, knowing he’d rip this man apart before he even had a chance to try and flirt back. The man seems to realize the danger he’s in. He takes his chips and leaves the table.
“That was rude.” Swiveling my seat, I scoff at Vette. “I was making friends.”
“Spreading your legs for anyone, eh?”
I smack his arm. “How dare you! You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, well, at least I’m not a slut.” Vette’s face is hard, but a flash of regret shines in his gaze.
The cruel words don’t bother me. I know he doesn’t mean it.
“At least my dick isn’t small,” I shout loud enough for the neighboring tables to hear. I start to stand, but his hand falls on my wrist.
“My dick isn’t small.” There’s a hint of a challenge in his gaze, as if he’s daring me to reach between his legs and find out exactly what he’s working with. The offer is tempting, but that would ruin the game we’re playing.
“Says the man who can’t hit the G-spot.” I release a harsh laugh. “He can’t,” I say, glancing at everyone around us. “He keeps trying, though. Chug, chug, chug, like the little engine that could, only he can’t!”
“That’s not what you were screaming last night.”
“I was faking it,” I hiss, injecting as much disdain as I can muster into my tone. “Oh, babe. Yes,yes, right there. Yes. Yes. Yes!” I fake an orgasm, hoping it doesn’t sound too obnoxious.
Some people cover their mouths to hide their reactions, while others openly laugh at us. Fire flares in Vette’s eyes, but his face contorts in mock rage. “You’re a bitch.”
“You’re a pathetic, limp dick, has-been!”
“Guys, please.” The dealer’s voice carries over ours. “Don’t make me call security.”
I scowl at the man. “Don’t you dare! I won’t be escorted out like a criminal.”
“Call ’em,” Vette says. “Let them drag the bitch away.”
Here comes the grand finale.
“You. Mother. Fucker.” I lunge, crashing into his body. Vette shifts back slightly, helping the chair topple over.
He grunts on impact. “Your mom likes my limp dick.”
I scream, pounding my fists into his chest. I don’t hit him as hard as I could, but I have to put on a good show.
“Get him,” a woman shouts.
“Security!” The dealer screams.
Voices rise all around us, the whole of the casino stopping to watch us. Vette growls and barrel-rolls us, pushing my back into the ground and pinning my wrists to the floor. My chest heaves, and his core brushes against mine.
“Your mom came all over me.”
