Darker (17 page)

I take a deep breath and do just that. “I’m a mathematician. That means I can do a lot more with numbers than just adding up. I can see number patterns, remember sequences, calculate probabilities. So I don’t need to gamble, I can work out the probabilities of what card’s coming up, where the little ball will land, and only bet when the chances are I’ll win. And I do win. Most of the time. I like roulette best. American roulette…” I stop babbling, and fix my gaze on my feet, waiting for his reaction. After all my previous revelations this seems like a small thing to me, but you never can tell.

I wait a few seconds, staring at my red shoes and his shiny black ones, until his finger under my chin pushes my face up again. His dark chocolate eyes hold mine and I cringe, my mouth twisting into an embarrassed grimace.

“So what is it, some sort of system you have? Is it legal?”

“Legal? God, yes! I’m not a cheat. I just… I just follow the sequence of events and predict what’s coming next. Anyone can do it, given enough time. I just do it fast.”

“No matter how fast you are, how can you predict where the ball’s going to land? How can anyone? It’s a random event. Poker, yes, you can play that and use your skill to win. Up to a point. But a game of chance? Roulette? How can you be sure of winning at that?”

“It’s not random.”

He shoots me a look of disbelief and I start to get irritated. How many times do I have to tell him before he believes me? How much proof does he need before he’ll accept that I can do what I say I can do? Christ, why lie? It’s easy enough to demonstrate after all.

“I’m not going into the detail here, but just believe me when I tell you that particle physics has proven that the universe is not a random system. There is always order, always a sequence to be found. If the sample is large enough, the sequence repeats. Eventually. Otherwise the world would be a chaotic place, which it isn’t. Usually. Haven’t you ever wondered why it is that time moves forwards, not backwards?”

One glance at his face, his expression of utter incredulity, is sufficient to convince me that this is not a question that has troubled Nathan Darke over the years. I shrug. “Oh well, it must be just me then. Believe me, though, when I tell you that very little of what happens is ever random. And that’s all I do. I watch, wait until I see the sequence of colours, numbers, whatever, until I see the pattern emerging. And then I can forecast what’s coming. If I get it wrong occasionally I adjust my perception of the sequence slightly, just to make it more perfect, and go again. I rarely lose. In fact, I can’t remember when I last lost.”

Those incredulous eyebrows slowly lower as he considers my explanation. And, amazingly, accepts it. Hands on hips, he lowers his head, shakes it slowly before spearing me with his gaze again. “Bloody hell. So you’re going to make us our fortune in there, are you?”

I stiffen, straighten. I need to take charge of this, if he’ll let me. “No. They’ll throw us out if they think we’re cheating, if it’s too obvious. And anyway, they know me at Alea’s and I have a sort of agreement with them. I always limit my winnings to around a couple of thousand pounds.”

“An agreement?”

“Yes. I started going to casinos as soon as I turned eighteen, although I’d known since school that I could win at so-called games of chance by working out the number sequences—lots of us could. But I got carried away at first. I was too greedy, and got thrown out of the first couple of houses I tried it in. Then another time a pair of security guards marched me off to the manager’s office where I was searched for magnetic devices and such like. God, that was awful. I was so scared, I thought they were going to beat me up and throw me out in a back alley. But once she’d convinced herself I wasn’t cheating, the manager was actually very nice. She told me I could carry on gambling in her casino as long as I kept it moderate, as long as I didn’t take too much of their cash. Having a winner at the table encourages everyone else to have a go so the house sort of recoups its losses. In a way, I’m good for business.”

“But even keeping it moderate, as you put it, you could make a fortune by going around different places, taking just a thousand or two each time.”

“Yeah, but I only do it for fun, not for a living. It’s how I lay my hands on a bit of spare cash for luxuries, things like foreign travel. I get a lot of time off in the summer and I like to travel, and this is how I pay for it. Or if I want to buy something special—like my violin, for example—I nip into a casino and win the money.”

“Like the rest of us get cash from a cash machine?”

“Well, I never thought of it quite like that, but yes. Maybe. It really is quite legal. And doesn’t harm anyone. You don’t mind, do you? I should have told you all this before we came out. I’ll understand if you don’t want to go in with me now. We can just go back to your apartment and… Well, you know…”

“Yes I do know. And tempting as the prospect of fucking you is, like I said earlier, you’ll keep. Now, I just want to see you in action, in there.” He jerks his head to indicate the brightly lit casino entrance behind us, the revolving front door swishing around slowly. “But only on condition you let me buy the chips. It’s my treat, after all, I invited you out.”

I smile, delighted to have company on one of my gaming excursions. We glide through the doors, nodding to the smartly tuxedoed doorman as we make a beeline for the cashier’s desk to get some chips.

Three hours later, around one thirty in the morning we are strolling back around the more or less deserted dock, three thousand pounds richer. Nathan’s jacket is loosely hanging from my shoulders to ward off the slight late evening chill, and his arm is around my waist, holding me by his side.

Nathan insisted on buying, and he changed five hundred pounds for chips, which he shared equally with me. He lost his slice of the money within about half an hour, whilst I was still assessing the play at the American roulette table. Then, when I was ready to start playing, he simply stood beside me whilst I placed my bets. I’d decided to keep it simple by betting only on red or black to give myself a fifty-fifty chance without any additional edge from my peculiar talents. It was easy, ridiculously easy, and my winnings built slowly and steadily over the next hour or so. When I reached three and a half grand I decided to call it a night.

Nathan cashed in the chips then handed the wadge of notes to me. I refused, told him to have his stake back and put the rest towards car repairs. His eyes narrowed, he slipped the money into his inside jacket pocket, after peeling off a couple of twenties that he invested in a bottle of champagne. We drank it at a secluded table on a balcony overlooking the gaming floor. I had a wonderful time watching the gaming tables below, subconsciously tuning in to decipher the complex patterns and sequences, and amusing myself watching the many and various reactions of the players as they won or—more often—lost.

Nathan just amused himself watching me. I didn’t care, I was happy, enjoying myself, contented. Eventually, the bottle empty and upended in the wine cooler, by mutual unspoken consent we got up and strolled towards the exit. We both knew where we were headed and why. I was already wet.

* * * *

Now, back at Nathan’s building, we stand side by side in the lift, in silence, watching the lit-up numbers change on the display above the door. Nathan lifts his hands to slip the knot loose on his bow tie, leaving it to dangle around his neck. He opens the top two buttons on his dress shirt. The sexual awareness is palpable, the anticipation delicious, our intent absolute and clear.

The lift stops at Nathan’s penthouse floor and the doors slide open. We step out, cross the landing without looking at each other, without words, and Nathan unlocks the door. He gestures me to go in first, and I hear the gentle click of the lock behind me as I carefully place his jacket, then mine, over the back of the settee. Before I can turn to him Nathan is at my back, lifting my hair to nibble the nape of my neck. I arch and stretch, waiting for him to peel my dress from my shoulders.

Instead, though, he turns me in his arms. Taking my face between his hands he tilts my chin up and his dark chocolate gaze is warm, hot, as he runs his eyes over every feature. He smiles at me, soft and sensual, before dropping his head to kiss me. He starts at my eyes, my cheeks, my ears, my chin, before finally placing his mouth over mine. He trails the tip of his tongue across the seam of my lips and I part them to let him in. He slips his tongue inside, tasting me, teasing me. I groan, the first sound from either of us since we arrived back, and that’s his signal to deepen the kiss. His arms slide around my back, holding me firm against him as he tilts his head to strengthen the seal. I press my hands against his chest, savouring the smooth silk of his expensive shirt before reaching up to loop my arms around his neck and just hang on. Without doubt I’d be on the floor if he wasn’t holding me upright.

At last, when I am near enough mindless with lust, he raises his head, looking down into my eyes. He straightens, steps away. Sliding the backs of his knuckles down my jaw and across my collarbone, he fingers the black silk of my dress.

“This is a beautiful dress, Eva. Take it off now.” The words are spoken softly, his eyes never leaving mine. My lips parted, unmoving, I gaze back as one dark eyebrow quirks upwards. “Now, Eva.” He steps farther away from me to sit back on the settee. He leans back, one ankle crossed over his knee as he watches me, waits for me to obey him. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t need to. He just waits.

Slowly, facing him, I reach behind me to lower the zip in the small of my back. I shrug my shoulders to let the straps slip off and down my arms. I’m not wearing a bra so my breasts are bared for him and I can see the appreciation in his eyes. He lets his gaze drift from my face, over my body and back again. He smiles, waits. And I let the dress drop to the floor. I am now standing before him in just a pair of bright crimson pants, black hold-up stockings and my beautiful fuck-me red heels. After a few moments I make to complete the strip show, but he stops me with a quick hand gesture, instead beckoning me to him.

I approach, standing between his legs as he gazes up at me. The undiluted lust in his eyes tells me what he thinks of the floorshow, and my pussy clenches in anticipation of what’s to come. No longer shy, no longer embarrassed by my body, I am aware of the power I hold now. Power to entice, to arouse. This man wants me, and I want him. I want him so much it hurts.

I start to sway, but Nathan reaches for me, pulling me into his lap. He kisses me again, quickly, before continuing down to suckle my nipples. I lean back, arching into his mouth and can only moan, pleading for more. He promised me fast and furious, and that’s exactly what I want.

As if reading my mind he tips me onto the floor and is immediately on top of me. My back is pressed into the thick carpet and he is tunnelling his hands through my hair as he continues to kiss me senseless. He breaks the kiss for a moment, just long enough to pull off my crimson panties and unzip his trousers, then he positions himself between my legs. With no further ado or fanfare, he puts a hand behind each of my knees, pushing my legs up and wide to open me fully before he plunges inside me.

I scream, and come, clenching hard around his cock. He allows me a few seconds for the ripples of orgasm to flow through me, then any semblance of civilisation deserts him and his thrusts are fast, hard, deep, brutal. And within a few seconds he climaxes too. I hear his muffled curse as his body shudders and he forces my legs higher, wider for his absolute pleasure, his total penetration. I feel the bump of the head of his penis against my cervix and rake my nails down his back. The mingled intensity of pain and pleasure has never been more apt than now, and I cry out as the sensations pulse through me, almost as satisfied by his climax as by my own.

As suddenly as the storm started, it stops. Nathan makes no attempt to withdraw from my body, but he does release my legs. I lie still under him, flat on the floor and vaguely wondering why we’re not in bed. But really, I have no complaints. That was superb.

He takes his weight on his elbows to gaze down at me. He drops his forehead to mine then lifts his head again to look at me.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Hurt me? No. Of course not.”

“I was rough, didn’t give you any time to become ready for me. Are you okay? Really?”

Sliding my hands around his waist I pull him closer to me, if that were possible. I raise my shoulders, reaching to nuzzle his chest, flick his flat nipples with my tongue. I hear him gasp and feel the flinch of reaction. I feel the twitch, the slight jerking deep inside me as his semi-erect penis starts to recover, getting ready to do business again. Lying back down, gyrating my hips and squeezing hard around him to better appreciate the sensation of having him buried to the hilt inside me, I smile back up into his concerned, slightly guilty face. But only slightly guilty, thank heavens.

“I’ve been ready for hours. You could have had me outside on the pavement. That was…wonderful. Absolutely bloody wonderful. So, please, don’t stop now.”

His worried face cracks, breaking into a wide, delighted smile. Then his expression changes again to become distinctly lustful, his eyes nearly black with desire. “God, you’re so beautiful. I could fuck you all night. And I do believe I probably will.”

“Mmm, is that a promise, Mr Darke? In which case, please feel free to start again at your earliest convenience…”

He did. We did. All night.

Chapter Eight

I wake up, stretch, groaning at the unfamiliar aches and stiffness in my limbs. I shiver slightly and burrow back under the duvet, pulling it up around my ears. A slight weight falls across my side and I instinctively snuggle backwards towards it. Nathan’s arm tightens around me.

Slowly, languorously, I let myself drift awake. I sigh in contentment and nestle tight up against Nathan’s chest. We are both naked, our bodies tangled together. Drained. Exhausted. Spent.