“How would you play with them?” she asked, and her voice sounded hot, wanton.

  “Let’s find out,” he said, grasping her hips and lifting her off him. “Unzip my jeans, woman. I can’t fuck you with my clothes on.”

  That wicked grin spread across her face with his words. She skimmed his pants down to his knees, unbuttoned his shirt and spread her palms over his chest as she stood between his legs. Electricity shot through him; she alone could do this to him. She was the only one who had the control panel to his body, who knew which dials to turn and how far. She pressed his nipples between each thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard. He nearly growled in response, his eyes momentarily drifting shut.

  “I’m so tempted to sign things without you around,” she teased, as she licked his chest, returning to their role-playing.

  He stopped her hands, moving them behind her back. “I see you’re already trying to get in trouble with your attorney. I warned you what would happen.”

  She shivered. “I’m ready to take my spanking.”

  “But this time it’s going to be different, Julia. I’m not going to use my hand,” he said, as he removed her necklace. Gripping the necklace carefully in his hand, he left a small loop hanging down, then quickly swatted her backside with the pearls.

  “Oh!” she gasped.

  “I’m not sure I was clear the first time. You might need to hear it again.”

  “Oh yes. I think I might, to fully understand the impact of what you’re saying,” she said.

  “Good. Because I need you to listen to me.” He lightly spanked her marvelous bottom with the pearls and she bit her lip, an absolutely delicious image of her trying to rein in the pleasure that was likely roaring through her body. If the way she felt matched him, then her veins were a raging fire. He smacked her one more time, causing her to wriggle against him. Maybe even an inferno, because that was what he felt as he witnessed the pleasure contorting her features when he spanked her with the necklace. The reaction drove him wild with desire, so he swatted her one more time, and she cried out.

  “Now, straddle me, so I can see what other tricks I can perform with these pearls.”

  * * *

  She lowered herself across his thighs, her legs spread wide open, the skirt of her dress hiked up to her hips, her pussy exposed and aching. And he knew it. He knew she was squirming for him.

  “Tricks? You’re a magician now?” she said in her playfully taunting tone as she positioned herself on him.

  “You tell me if it’s magic when I make you come with these pearls. Close your eyes, Julia,” he said, his voice deep and rumbly, sending hot shivers across her skin. The little hairs on her arms rose as the world around her disappeared. They were flying high, shooting across the country, maybe over Pennsylvania, maybe Ohio. Who knew? Who cared? They were tangoing with the sky, traveling in a silver bullet of bliss as he teased her flesh with the necklace. The sensation from the rope of pearls now gliding across her chest sent tingles over her skin. She felt his strong hands somehow wrap the pearls in a figure eight around her breasts. He tightened the strand, and she yelped in surprise, in pleasure, in the strangely thrilling sensation of having her breasts squeezed by pearls.

  “Does that ouch mean more please?” he asked, low and husky in her ear.

  “So. Much. More,” she answered.

  “Good,” he said, his breath ghosting hot over her throat as he shifted the beads again, letting them fall between her breasts. He trailed them against her belly, then dropped them lower, and lower still, until the end of the loop brushed her clit with the barest whisper of a kiss. She trembled from the sweet, exquisite agony of a kiss from a pearl.

  Soon she felt the pad of his finger too, pressing lightly against one of the beads, increasing the friction, rubbing up and down over her swollen clit.

  She didn’t know if it was the pressure from his hand, or the crazy, new sensation of the smooth object that sent a fresh rush of heat to her core. But she stopped trying to figure it out as his finger dipped down to her folds, sliding across her, and drawing out more slickness. “You’re dripping on my hands. That didn’t take long,” he said.

  “Are you disappointed with the speed of my arousal?”

  “Never. It feeds me. It makes me want to see how far I can go with you, how much I can bring out in you.”

  “Try me then. Test me,” she said, her voice as bare as her emotions for him. She was his; she belonged to him so completely. In the last two months they’d fallen deeper in love and further into pleasure, seeking out new ways to please each other. “Bring out more in me. I am yours to play with.”

  He bent his head to her chest, drawing a nipple into his talented mouth all while readjusting the pearls. With her eyes closed, she wasn’t quite sure where he was going next. As his tongue stroked her nipple to a hard pebble, she felt strands slide lightly across her pussy, a deliciously new sensation that made her gasp.

  “More,” she whispered, as she held onto his strong shoulders.

  “Always more,” he said, gliding the pearls across her wetness. She quivered all over, her body greedy, her mind curious as to what he planned next. Where would he go with the necklace? How far would he explore her body with this smooth, sensuous piece of jewelry that was turning her inside out with pleasure under his masterful hands? Eagerly, she waited for his next move, her body hungry. Then she felt the pearls more distinctly; he’d looped them into double strands, and was sliding them across her wet, eager lips, each strand caressing her most sensitive center. A loud moan escaped her, unbidden, filling the cabin. Then another as he dragged the necklace faster through her wetness, sometimes narrowing the distance between the strands, sometimes widening them, but always making sure pearls were rubbing her where she wanted them most. All the while he continued lavishing her breasts with attention, drawing one nipple deep into his mouth, then turning to the other to lick and kiss and suck. She threw her head back as pleasure pulsed in her, like blinding bursts of white light. It was almost too much to keep up with—her breasts being fondled by his talented mouth, her hot center being stimulated with jewels.

  He kept it up, rubbing the pearls between her legs, then down to the outline of her ass, touching her cheeks, then back to her desperately needy clit. She was teetering on the brink, hovering on some new precipice. But she needed more of him to fly over the edge.

  “It feels so fucking good,” she said in a breathy pant. “But I don’t know if I can come without your fingers or your tongue.”

  “You can, Julia. I know your body. I know your arousal. I want you to come just from the pearls,” he said, his voice commanding, and sending a charge through her spine. “I know you can.”

  “Then put them inside me,” she said, the words falling out more quickly than she’d expected them to. But somehow, she knew that was what she needed to gallop over the cliff she was nearing. She wanted to launch herself over it, fling herself down the abyss of pleasure.

  In a flash, she felt him pushing several beads inside her, her molten center greedily taking the friction. “Oh God,” she moaned. “Yes, do that again. Please. Please, Clay. Please,” she said, and soon the word had become a chant—please—and somehow the repetition sent her tumbling into a delirious swirl of new sensations: his finger inside her, the smoothness of the beads hitting her tight walls, then the friction, the oh-so-fucking intoxicating friction against her clit as he rubbed one bead faster and faster. Soon, her belly tightened, her sex clenched, and her sounds intensified.

  She could feel the orgasm start to crest. It was almost there, nearly ready for her to bathe in its glory.

  He pushed the pearls deeper inside her, and she shouted his name. Then, mere seconds later as she hovered torturously on that hazy edge, he tugged the necklace out of her quickly. The wicked feeling of the pearls leaving her body sent her soaring as she shattered with a cry that she was sure the pilot could hear. She was equally sure she didn’t care about anything but the white-hot orgasm that stole her mind now as she relinquished all control, all rational thought, all of everything to her climax. This orgasm owned her body, claimed every single nerve inside her, taking her hostage in its absolute and pure bliss.

  When she opened her eyes, she gripped his shoulders harder, needing to steady herself because she felt like she had no control over her body anymore. Like she’d simply sway because pleasure had consumed her, lapping her up from her head to her toes. She looked at her man, and his deep brown eyes were primal and hungry. “Get on me now, Julia. And put on your seatbelt; this is going to be a bumpy ride,” he said, and she obliged instantly, sliding onto his rock-hard cock. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching as she sank down onto him, never growing tired of the way he filled her. Only this time . . . wait . . . it was different . . . there was something between them. They both looked down at the same moment, their foreheads touching.

  The necklace was looped around the base of his shaft, forming a makeshift cock ring. The rest of the necklace hung below, nearly, but not quite, touching the floor. He reached down, quickly tugging up the strand of pearls the other direction, trailing it between her breasts, but leaving it on his cock, stroking in and out of her, as he held onto the necklace.

  “There’s a pearl necklace between us,” she said, enjoying the double entendre.

  “I’ll gladly give you both kinds anytime,” he said as he thrust into her, his strong hips and legs guiding his shaft upward, deeper, harder as she rode him.

  She hitched in a breath, then her eyes widened as she watched him bring the necklace to his mouth and suck on the beads that had been inside her. Her bones turned liquid, her body became molten. He had no hang-ups, no qualms. He simply savored every single aspect of sex with her, loved every taste, every touch, every feel.

  “You taste fucking spectacular on this necklace,” he growled, his tongue lashing out across a bead to draw up her wetness. “This makes me want to bury my face between your legs, again. Julia. I can’t get enough of you.”

  Her lips parted and she cried out as he licked the taste of her off the pearls.

  So erotic, so dirty, so very, very Clay.

  “Share with me,” she said, her voice breathy as she raced to another climax. She felt it closing in on her, circling her like flames, and she wanted to ride over that edge with him this time. Jump off that cliff together and sail down on a parachute of pleasure.

  Holding several pearls between his teeth, he moved his mouth to hers, claiming her lips in a fury, letting her suck on the beads with him. Their tongues lashed, their teeth banged, and together they licked off the last drops of her first orgasm as she crashed into another one. A torrent of heat, and light, and fire raced through her body, consuming her. A rush of vibrations enveloped all her cells, radiating through her blood.

  The necklace fell from their mouths as he pumped deeper. His shoulders shuddered, and she could feel his climax begin. “Fuck, Julia. I fucking love coming in you. I love it. So,” he said with a hard drive. “Fucking.” Then another pump. “Much,” he shouted, unleashing himself in her, then owning her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, their lips united once more as their bodies connected.

  As the aftershocks still chased her, she ran her fingers across his chest. “Welcome to the Mile High Club. I hope you enjoyed your flight.”

  He flashed a quick smile at her, then kissed her softly between her breasts, traveling up her neck, before leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Makes me want to get my own jet and take you everywhere with me.”

  “I’ll be your partner in that kind of crime.”

  “With you and me, it would never be a crime.”

  * * *

  He washed off the pearls carefully, running soap and water over the necklace, then drying it off with a cotton towel. He returned to Julia who’d freshened up too, pulling on a short-sleeve blouse and a dressy pair of jeans and heels for her meeting with Farrell. She held two glasses of clear liquid, with ice cubes clinking in them. “Want to go wild and have a drink in the afternoon? Well, it’s afternoon in New York at least.”

  He nodded. “Afternoon delight and afternoon drinks with my woman. Those are the ingredients for my perfect day.”

  Tucking the pearls back into the box, he glanced up at her. “I want you to wear these when we go to Brent’s comedy club later tonight.”

  “And you’ll look at me all night with lust and secrets in your eyes, knowing where they’ve been.”

  He winked. “Exactly. That’s exactly what will be running through my mind every time I look at you,” he said.

  They settled back into their seats, Julia kicking up her shoes on the wide footrest in front of her. “Can we take this jet back to New York on Sunday night?”

  “I believe that is already the plan.”

  “You spoil me.”

  “I intend to spoil you even more,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers and squeezing her hand. An image flashed through his mind of how her ring finger would look with a diamond on it. Beautiful, perfect, and his.

  “Let’s watch a movie for the rest of the flight. I have Ocean’s Eleven on my iPad.”

  “How fitting. Let’s just hope we don’t run into a ton of trouble in Vegas like they did.”

  “But they got away with it.”

  “Then if we get into trouble at a casino, I want to have the same luck on our side that they did.”

  Two satisfying hours later, the movie ended the way it always did—with eleven thieves walking away from the fountains at the Bellagio, one by one, having gotten away with the heist, luck on their side.

  Soon the jet touched down in Vegas. Julia shook her head and smiled as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I can’t believe you’re dropping me off in Vegas. On a jet. How did this become my life?”

  “When you made the very wise decision to hit on me in your bar one night in San Francisco.”

  She laughed, the sweet sound washing over him. “Right. That’s how it happened. I just jumped on you and gave you no choice.”

  “Or maybe I hit on you,” he mused playfully, as he stood up and carried her bag to the steps of the jet. “Either way, it all worked out. I’ll see you soon. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “That leaves things pretty much wide open.”

  * * *

  When the Cessna landed in Los Angeles thirty minutes later, he gathered up his laptop and phone. But he couldn’t find his purple tie. He searched under the seats, on the seats, even in the bathroom. It was nowhere to be found, and he texted Julia, hoping she had it.

  She replied that it wasn’t in her luggage or her purse, and that she was enjoying the view of the Strip from the penthouse at the Allegro.

  He was glad she liked the room, but suddenly his mind stayed fixed on his damn tie. Maybe it was irrational, maybe he was superstitious, but he had the sinking feeling that his luck was running out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Friday, 1:33 p.m., Las Vegas

  Julia’s red-soled heels clicked against the black-and-white marbled floor of the Allegro lobby—though lobby hardly felt like the right word. The entryway was stretched out like a palace, with two giant wings that wrapped around the circular hotel creating a long, tall oval in the middle of the Strip. She’d read up on the design, and the architect had waxed eloquently about being inspired by infinity pools and wanting to create that same sort of feeling of circularity, he’d called it. More like trickery.

  Julia suspected the design had more to do with the ease of being swallowed up in the casino, sliding quarters into slots, slapping down chips on tables, and never being able to find your way out. This hotel typified that Vegas mentality of keep them inside. But it did so elegantly because the walls were adorned with art, replicas of some of the very paintings inside the Allegro Gallery in the heart of this hotel that boasted authenticated works from masters like Monet, Goya and Matisse.

  Gorgeous emerald-green plants and small, potted trees lined the walls too, offering an inviting feel and sending the message that this was both a welcoming and an opulent place to stay.

  Lord knew their room was stunning, and seemed to go on for miles. Earlier, she’d run her hands along the royal-blue comforter and leather headboard on the king-size bed, and was then drawn to the full-length glass windows that looked over the city: all of Vegas, all of gambling, all its secrets spread out below them.

  She’d sighed happily, drinking in this city. Being here was like a second chance. She and Vegas used to be bedfellows, happily in love and lust when she’d taken girls weekend trips here, playing the tables at the nearby Bellagio late into the night. But then Charlie the mobster had forced her to be his ringer and to hustle for him in rigged poker games in San Francisco to pay off her deadbeat ex-boyfriend’s debt. That had sapped her love of the game just the teensiest, tiniest bit. She’d reclaim it this weekend; she’d already started taking poker back for herself, playing in New York games with Clay and Cam and a rotating cast of actors, producers, and friends. Now and then even Michelle Milo joined them. That woman had grown on her; they’d had a brief heart-to-heart when she moved to town, Julia thanking Michelle for giving Clay some of the advice he’d needed, and Michelle thanking Julia for making him—her good friend—so happy.

  Here in the perfectly-modulated, precisely temperature-controlled hotel, she made her way to meet Tad Herman from Farrell Spirits at the poolside bar. The meeting wouldn’t start for another twenty-five minutes, so after she passed a painting of Monet’s Japanese Bridge, she turned into the casino in the center of the hotel, weaving her way through the tables, the flurry of quarters, nickels and dimes from the slots becoming the casino soundtrack. This sound was the music of gambling, of bets being laid, of chances being lost and won. It was the song of hope, of hands rubbed together as one-armed bandits were pulled, the players longing for the metal splash of money.