Double Down (16 page)

“Every fucking penny.”

Chapter Eighteen

They sat primly side by side in the limo. Cass had brushed her hair, making it sleek and sultry again. Her dress was wrinkled and probably had wet spots on the back, but she couldn’t help that. The hickeys and bite marks on her cleavage were also beyond hiding.

At least she’d kept Ryan from kissing her—partly out of call-girl cool and partly because she’d had the makeup professionally applied. “Give me slutty elegance,” she’d told the girl in the beauty shop. Presto! Convincing enough to get kicked out of a casino.

She wanted to hold his hand, but that wouldn’t be in character. She’d thought that what she and Ryan shared was fairly anonymous—the dressing room, the lunchtime quickie. Aways there was laughter and teasing, especially during the euphoria that followed. This was the first time she’d decided to keep playing the game, even afterward. Holding on to the cool businesslike reserve of a hooker was more difficult than she’d imagined.

So in an odd way, the charged silence inside the limo was reassuring. They weren’t just screwing. Always, even from the beginning, there had been more.

The limo pulled to a stop. “Here we are,” she said in her faux-starlet voice.

Ryan had managed to put himself back in order too. “You know, this is the longest I’ve had to wait on anything in years.”

“Because you’re a man who gets what he wants.”

His eyes gleamed. “Tonight I do.”

The limo driver opened the door, offering his hand to help Cass out. His lips quirked as he caught sight of her chest. She only handed over an extra forty dollars and smiled.

Ryan followed, his eyes on the darkened marquee as he buttoned his suit coat. She’d always loved that particular male ritual. So few aspects of a man’s appearance seemed deliberate. Guys were generally of the shit, shower and shave persuasion. A suit made them pay attention to their looks.

It also displayed Ryan’s nerves. He’d just had a fab quickie but he was still on edge.

He was getting trickier to figure out each time they met.

Cass pushed aside reality, willfully diving back into their game. She hooked her arm through his. “C’mon, you monster. I have plans for us.”

“We’re going to the movies?”

“Classic cinema.”

“Why do I still think this is going to be unseemly?”

“Because you’re a clever boy.”

They entered through the heavy double doors. The décor was straight out of 1950s Rat Pack cool—modern for its time, but so quaint and amusing now. Renovated neon lit the lobby in crazy hues, dancing over dark brown shag carpeting. White paper Chinese lanterns swung each time new theatergoers walked in. However, no amount of pretty accents or mod, angular pieces of furniture could disguise the dusty smell of an old building that had seen better days.

The festive atmosphere more than made up for the theater’s slightly decrepit state. All types of people had gathered inside, from openly gay Village People guys to hipsters and college students. Even another few men wore suits, which she hoped would help Ryan ease back from feeling conspicuous.

“Two tickets, please,” she said to the young woman in the booth.

Ryan, his mouth close enough to send shivers down her nape, snorted, “Classic cinema, my butt.
Behind the Green Door
?”

“Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“Is it older than both of us?”

“Yes.”

“Then shut up, mister. Or do I have to take a lot of backtalk with my five grand?” The ticket girl only lifted an eyebrow. Cass blew her a kiss before steering Ryan past the milling people. “Come on. I want to get a good seat.”

With her arm linked through his, she could feel the tension gathering in his muscles. God, he was built. She was nearly to the point of getting used to it, that every touch would reveal steely flesh—just like how she was nearly accustomed to him being hung like a horse. That wouldn’t do at all. She curled her fingertips into his biceps, enjoying his soft inhalation.

“I thought you said you wanted good seats,” Ryan said as she settled onto a worn velvet cushion.

She looked left and right along the back-most row. “I did. Right here.”

“Cassandra.”

“Hm?”

He sat tensely beside her. Whatever game they’d been playing was impossible to find in his expression. “I’m an officer.”

A tiny shiver worked up her bare back at the idea of being left alone in this adventure. She’d been bold. She’d taken a huge chance by dressing up like a tart and dragging her lover of one week to a viewing of vintage porn. What if she’d got it all wrong? She didn’t know if it would be possible to recover from being pointed out as a fool.

Too freaked by that possibility, she pushed ahead. It was either that or call the whole thing off. She wasn’t quite ready to give up on feeling so confident and utterly sexy.

“Look, mister, you paid for a memorable time and I’m going to give you one.” She leaned close, her hand sliding up the inside of his taut thigh. “You’re not going to do anything worth getting worked up about.”

Cass nearly laughed at the disappointment in his voice as he said, “Really?”

“Promise.” The theater had steadily filled with people, but they remained alone in the back row. The lights dimmed. “Now close that delicious mouth of yours and watch the movie.” She flicked a look down to his crotch. “Maybe you’ll learn something, mister.”

“Take notes?”

“Sure. It’s not every day that a john can learn what gets off a hooker.”

“Gets off…?”

His words trailed away as the movie screen flickered green. Some of the theatergoers cheered as the title came up. They sounded drunk. Good. If anyone were to attract attention, it would not be them. She was just a fancy piece of ass on the arm of a six-foot-plus stud wearing a perfectly tailored suit.
Nothing to see here, officers.

Snickers and giggles from the audience were the rule of the day. Cass couldn’t help but smile, and neither did Ryan seem able to remain serious.

“God, it’s just so
seventies
,” he whispered, his smile bewildered.

“See? Classic.”

But he was right. It was so lame, in fact, that she found herself thankful for their quick fuck in the limo. She couldn’t imagine squandering such potent arousal on this cinematic cheese. A shame, because Cass had liked the concept: a girl gets kidnapped before being forced to have sex onstage—multiple times—for a theater full of costumed observers. Bad lighting, bad acting and unspeakably bad mustaches made it nearly unbearable. She and Ryan would wind up screwing to alleviate the boredom.

Worst case, they’d grab a couple bottles of wine from the liquor store across the street and head back to her place. Ryan hadn’t been by yet. They could make up some new fantasy.

Cass was ready to suggest that they leave when the kidnappers hauled Marilyn Chambers’s character in through the rear entrance of a seedy theater. She was really very pretty—all pouty and vulnerable. Her breasts were nice too. Exactly the right size and,
quelle
shocking,
natural
. Her hands were bound. That simple image did quick work on Cass’s flagging interest.

By the time five women had stripped Chambers, displayed for a small crowd of masked observers to see, Ryan had grown quiet. He shifted in his seat. The women kissed and sucked at one another, silencing most of the theater. Both the film’s costumed audience and the real-life one in that 1950s theater were enraptured. Imagining everyone else getting turned on too was a surprising bonus.

The movie wasn’t any more explicit than a modern porno. In fact it was relatively subdued—some oral and missionary. But the public venue, the unexpected pleasure of finding it erotic, and the tense restlessness of Ryan right beside her…

Cass sank into her arousal, happy she could fulfill the role she’d wanted to.

She dragged her hand along the inside of her own thigh. The silky fabric parted. She slid her fingers along her clit, circling, rubbing, her back arching slightly as her breathing picked up. The weird lighting and funky jazz soundtrack didn’t matter now. Watching the leading lady get fucked by a well-hung black guy was more than doing the trick.

Ryan glanced at her, giving her some serious side eye. His lips parted. Oh, she liked that. He looked that way after he came too, all disorientated and wrecked. She relished that this silly idea of hers had caught him off guard too. His eyes dropped to her lap.

The rate of fucking on-screen picked up the pace. Groans and breathless sighs were the only soundtrack now. Girls continued to work at Chambers’s tits, sucking and fondling. Cass reached up with her left hand and rubbed her bare nipple. She tweaked it. Pinched it. She remembered how roughly Ryan had bit her breast, there in the limo, and was rewarded by another surge of wet need.

Ryan’s hand rested on her near thigh. His fingers pulsed in a steady clench. So tense. Cass spread her legs. The fabric barely covered her pussy. She dipped the tip of her finger inside. So slick. She went for two fingers, pushing deeper, holding still. She stayed quiet. Ryan seemed hell-bent on keeping this relatively discreet, so she’d come in silence if she had to.

Maybe what his brain wanted and what his dick demanded were two different things. He turned in his seat, blatantly watching her now. Cass played it up for him. She opened her mouth, head pressed against the top of the seat back. The noises from the film followed her when she closed her eyes. Wet slapping. Grunts. A quick smack.

She was so lost to the moment that when Ryan took a nipple into his mouth, she almost cried out. That hot surprise jerked her arousal up ten notches.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he said against her breast. “You’re missing out.”

He circled his tongue so smoothly, so deliberately, teasing her as she was teasing him. The thrust and smack of bodies ramming together grew faster and faster. Cass clutched the back of his head to force him closer to her breast.

The very unobtrusive sound of his fly zipper being undone made her gasp softly.
Oh, yes. Bring that big boy out to play.

Ryan continued to work her breasts. He angled his body away from the center aisle, using those gloriously broad shoulders to shield them from the casual glance. The folds of his suit coat helped conceal what he was doing with his engorged cock. He stroked. He pumped. He didn’t make a sound.

God, the film’s on-screen audience had degenerated into a mindless orgy. Naked aroused bodies were everywhere. Only, Cass wasn’t as interested right then. She was too busy watching the show she and Ryan performed for one another. The sight of his head bowed between her tits was delicious. In the near-darkness, she only caught flashes of flesh as he jerked off. All the while the erotic sounds of a full-on seventies sex party filled her ears.

Cass bit her upper lip until she tasted blood. Her fingers worked. She arched against Ryan’s mouth. He pushed her hand out of the way and slipped his fingers inside. Compared to the fat girth of his cock, even his three fingers weren’t as large, but he certainly knew how to use them. He fidgeted with the angle, finding the sure spot. She bucked off the seat.

Like in the dressing room, he clamped his free hand over her mouth. Against her ear he whispered, “If you make a sound, we’ll get caught. We can’t get caught, Cassandra. You’re a hooker. Do you know what guards do to hookers in jail?”

She closed her eyes, bathing in his deep, hushed rumble.

“I’d make you hold on to your cell bars, your arms stretched up. Christ, your tits would look great. Your stomach. I’d make you stand there naked while I beat off for a while.”

So close now. His fingers jammed inside her, his thumb pressing on her clit. The hand he held over her mouth smelled of his arousal.

“Then I’d fuck you, my dirty whore. Right there against the bars, your gorgeous legs wrapped around me.”

For how much she’d been waiting for it, her orgasm took her by surprise. Her mind glazed over. All she could do was ride the fierce wave and keep from grunting with the pleasure.

Ryan had withdrawn his fingers, returning to his own body. He needed no time at all. A couple tight jerks and he gave up his release. Hot wetness spurted against her bared thighs. She grinned up toward the ceiling, as limp as a rag.

Only a few seconds passed before reality jumped back between them. Ryan did up his fly. Cass arranged her dress. Even though the movie was still hard at work in all its vintage-porn glory, they fled the theater, laughing like kids.

Chapter Nineteen

They had to take a taxi back to where the F-150 was parked since limos didn’t normally cruise past theaters showing classic porn. It wasn’t long before they arrived at Cassandra’s apartment. Ryan stood behind her with his flight bag slung over one shoulder while she tried to put the key in the lock. He probably wasn’t helping, what with one hand splayed over her stomach, his thumb brushing the edge of her dress where it plunged down below her cleavage.

She persisted past the trembling in her hands and threw open the door.

“This is it,” she said with a wave of her arm. “It’s pretty small, but it works for me. At least I’m out of my parents’ house.”

He dropped his bag at the end of the couch before taking a look around. So this was Cassandra’s place.

To the left was a small kitchen with ceramic floors and a bistro-style table in the corner. Farther on was the living area, with an open door providing a glimpse of a bedroom.

Nothing had a specific theme, nor did any of it match. The couch was upholstered in blue and set at an angle from an oversized chair done in cream with orange pillows. Framed prints shared wall space with paintings on canvas and what he figured was an African mask. Somehow it all worked together, making the place comforting. Nothing fussy. Just as sunny and inviting as the woman who lived there.

He spotted a collection of snapshots perched on a side table. One of them was a round-cheeked girl with a huge gap in her smile. The girl’s bright red hair shot almost straight up from her ponytail like duck fluff. “Is this you?”