Chapter 6

SIX

HAVOC

I scowl at my phone, where my stepfather has sent yet another text asking if I’ve got a job so I can move out already.

Sure, I’ll get a job, as soon as one of these jobs doesn’t do a background check on me and decide they can’t risk employing me.

“ I paid your fucking rent," I text back, although I know the only way he’ll be satisfied is if I’m no longer living under his roof.

It would be nice if my mother ever fucking stood up to him, but she hasn’t in the past fifteen years, so I don’t expect her to start now.

I wish I could move out. I don’t want to be the loser still living in his parents’ basement, but housing doesn’t come cheap in Calamity City and no landlord will accept “regular casino winnings” as steady income.

I set the phone on silent and turn my attention back to the casino. My eyes wander over to the blackjack tables, but I know how serious the risk of a ban is. I don’t want to be kicked out. Sure, there’s still The Red Heart or Palacio Diamante, but I know too many people working at the Palacio, and I can’t stand the Red Heart’s vibe. I could go to one of the smaller casinos, but the winnings are smaller there too, and the food is definitely worse.

I start wandering around, trying to pick out a poker table I could potentially win at, when I spot something more interesting.

The cute twink from the other night is sitting at one of the bar tables, staring listlessly at the casino floor.

I make my way into the bar area and casually lean against his table. He doesn’t even seem to notice me.

“Hey, rich kid,” I say, snapping my fingers.

His body jerks until he’s sitting perfectly upright, and he stares at me with a flicker of what I think might be fear until he catches himself. I had to have been imagining it, and it’s easy to dismiss when he offers a petulant little scowl instead.

“Oh, it’s you ,” he says, his shoulders drooping again as he goes back to moping.

“Yep, it’s me,” I answer, going for a flirty smile despite his dismissiveness. “Your name was… Seven, right? Guess you didn’t manage to get far last night.”

Seven snorts. “Yeah, you could say that. Daddy dragged me upstairs to get a proper spanking and everything.”

I furrow my brow and try to figure out if he’s being serious. “Your dad beats you?” I look him over, but I don’t see any obvious marks.

Of course, I know well enough that beatings don’t need to leave marks to be painful.

Something crosses his expression, fast but not so fast I can’t recognize it as surprise. “He’s not my dad,” he says, which explains absolutely nothing. “But boy, is it uncomfortable to be sitting on this barstool right now.” He flashes me a glib smirk.

I smile back, a little discomfited. “But you’re still choosing to sit.”

If it wasn’t his father who beat him… well, I know what other kinds of Daddies there are, especially in the gay scene. I guess that means he’s taken. I shouldn’t be surprised. Rich older guys with sugar babies aren’t exactly uncommon in Calamity City.

“There’s no one worth getting on my knees for instead,” Seven quips back.

I laugh and take a step closer to him. “Careful. If you flirt like that, you might end up doing something that earns you even more punishment.”

Seven’s eyes rake over me, and he says, “Something tells me you might be worth it.” He smiles sweetly at me, but then he drops the act with a groan. “Ugh. Wait. Let me guess. You work for him too, don’t you? This is some sort of test?”

“Work for him?” I ask, confused. I loosen my stance and shake my head. “If I were working for anybody, I wouldn’t be wasting all my time at a casino and hoping for big winnings.”

“If you were working for him, you’d definitely be here all the time, on account of him being the boss and all,” Seven says dryly.

“You’ve lost me.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Okay, I was going to see if you wanted to have some fun together, but if not, I might as well get back to eking out some winnings.” Then I groan. “Without hitting up the blackjack tables.”

“Bad luck at the game?” Seven asks in what might be sympathy. “That sucks. But hey, I might have a proposition for you.” He pulls out a handful of casino chips from his pocket. “You teach me how these games work, and I’ll share some of my winnings with you.”

I quickly count the chips, which add up to close to $500. “You could just cash those in, if you want the money.”

“I could,” he agrees, smirking at me. “But what’s the fun in that?”

“No fun at all,” I agree, although I’d probably be cashing out at $500 just to be sure I had enough for expenses for the rest of the month. I try to be smart about my gambling, which isn’t always easy.

It’ll be harder now that I can’t play the blackjack tables, but… I eye Seven.

“You ever play blackjack?” I ask, casually leaning closer. “It’s the only game where you can have a slight advantage over the house.”

“I’m a virgin,” Seven says, tucking the chips back into his pocket. “Wanna break my cherry and show me how it’s done?”

The obvious flirtation makes me laugh. It’s fun that he has no qualms about being openly into me, when I’m more used to hushed encounters in back alleys.

“Sure.” I help him off the bar stool and slowly walk us toward the blackjack tables, stopping well out of the dealer’s sight. “Okay, the rules are simple. The dealer is going to set out cards in front of you. You have to try to get as close to 21 without going over.”

I give him a quick overview of the game, and Seven nods in understanding. After the explanation is over, Seven asks, “So how is this a game you can beat the house at?”

“There’s only so many cards in a deck. If you know how many decks are being used, you can math out what the probability is of the next card being in your favor or against.” I smile at him. “Counting cards, as it were. The house frowns on it, but it’s not technically illegal.”

“Uh-huh,” Seven says. “Let me guess: we’re standing over here out of sight with you telling me how it works because the house found out you know how to do it.”

“And you’re standing here instead of out there because you got caught, too,” I point out.

His expression briefly turns fierce, hard, as he stares at me.

“You want to earn some money or not?” I prompt him.

Seven lets out an irritated sound, then waves a hand vaguely in my direction. “Yeah, sure, why not? Let’s make some cash.”

“You want to try counting cards on your own?” I ask. “The math isn’t too hard, you just have to be quick. I can also give you signals.”

“Yeah, all that math might just be too much for me,” Seven says with a faux innocent voice. He leans in closer to me, tilting his head up and licking his lips. “But how would you signal me?”

It’s so fucking obvious, but I have to admit I’m flattered. He’s hot and very much my type, small and lithe and pretty. I smile at him. “Maybe I should pinch your ass every time you need to raise.”

“I think all the squirming would get obvious,” Seven replies, grinning back at me.

“Then you’ll just have to be very, very still, won’t you?” I counter.

He laughs. “All right, you win. But if I win, and I’m sore all over, you have to kiss it all better.”

I almost ask him about his daddy or partner or whatever, and decide that I don’t care. I’ll fuck him once, and if that causes problems for him, well… I doubt I’ll see him again anyway.

“Sure, I can do that,” I answer, digging my fingers into his hips. “I’ll kiss every bruise I leave behind. And maybe add a few more.”

“Promises, promises,” he says, his eyes half-closed and his breath hitching. It takes him several seconds to recover when I pull my hand back, and I quirk a brow as I watch him come back down. “All right. Let’s do this.”

He leads me toward the blackjack table with all of the confidence of someone who’s meant to be there, and from the look on the dealer’s face, she recognizes him.

Thankfully she isn’t the same dealer from when I’d been banned, and while I’m sure she’s got a list somewhere, she’s too distracted to check. I’m not going to swipe my casino card either, so there’s no reason for her to suspect I shouldn’t be here.

Two other people join the table, and the game gets going. We start slow at first, with me explaining the rules to Seven again. When he hesitates on the betting, I either stroke his stomach or pinch his ass, depending on what I think is better.

I did learn my lesson about not overdoing it, so our winnings are mostly slow and unsteady.

I’m not sure what I expected of Seven, but it hadn’t been for him to get so into our little game. He leans back against my body and grinds his ass against my pelvis, giggling flirtatiously.

“I don’t know…” Seven mumbles, batting his eyelashes at me. “What do you think?”

I glance at the table. It’s decent odds that we can still win. I pretend to think about it. “How much of my cash have you bet already, babe?” I nuzzle my head against his neck and say, “Let’s quit, I’m gonna be too broke for dinner.”

I also slide my hand inside his jeans and pinch his ass.

“I haven’t bet that much,” Seven whines, wriggling against me. “Come on. I have a good feeling about this one.” He smiles at the dealer. “I wanna keep going.”

I groan loudly. “Babe… fuck, if you lose all the winnings…”

“I won’t lose!” he insists, and I wonder if he really has that much faith in my abilities or if he’s just that good of an actor. He doubles his chips on the table. “Besides, I’m the one holding the cash.” He pauses, looking at the chips. “Chips. Whatever. Hit me, dealer!”

I swallow hard, imagining roughing him up.

The dealer shrugs and deals out another card.

Thank fuck. I grumble and squeeze my eyes shut like I don’t want to see the result. The other person at the table complains about things taking too long, and the dealer finally turns the next card.

“Holy shit,” Seven says, going still in my arms.

I open my eyes, and I have to admit I’m shocked too.

We hit 21 exactly.

He squeals in delight, pawing at my arm when he recovers. “Look! Look, I told you I had a good feeling.” He laughs, and the dealer counts out our winnings. “I guess I’m the one who’s gonna buy dinner for you.”

“Wow,” I agree. “Guess you’re a lucky charm.” I start to let go of him—even though he feels so fucking perfect in my arms—but Seven hooks his arms around my neck and leans up, pressing his lips to mine.

Fuck.

I haven’t properly kissed a guy in ages, not since… not since before the army, and that whole fucking culture of repression. Did a few quick fucks here and there, but this is my first real kiss in years.

I groan and kiss back, gripping his hips harder and pushing him against the blackjack table.

Seven kisses hard and deep, pressing his body tightly against mine—tight enough to where I can feel his burgeoning erection—right up until the point the dealer clears her throat loudly. He pulls back, and I can’t help but notice that he looks dazed. That only lasts for a second, though, before he’s putting chips back down onto the table.

“Let’s go again,” he demands, licking his lips.

“No way,” I say, pulling our winnings toward us. “We’re gonna put these chips to good use now.”

Seven whines and shakes his head. “Come on! We can keep going until we’ve got even more. Just one more round. Two.”

I grab his arm with more force than I intended and start dragging him away. “Careful. That’s how gambling gets you.”

Seven follows me with a disgusted sound. “It’s not like it matters. It’s not my money I’m spending. Besides, you knew what you were doing,” he says when we’re far enough away to keep from being overheard.

“Yeah, and if the dealer decides to check whether I’m allowed to even be at the table, I’m kicked out for real. Just be glad we earned a few hundred bucks.” I stop to look at Seven again. His lips are kiss-bruised and he’s scowling, but he’s fucking hot.

I grab his chin and kiss him again, pulling his body flush against mine.

He makes a surprised sound, but he’s quick to wrap his arms around me and kiss back. He even nibbles at my bottom lip, tongue swiping over it, before he murmurs, “Got a room?”

I laugh darkly, thinking about the basement room at my stepfather’s house. “Nah. But the bathrooms here are pretty nice. Or do you need a real bed?”

“I’m easy,” Seven says, deadpan.

“Great.” I grab his wrist, squeezing tight, and hurry him to the closest restroom. Roi de Pique doesn’t skimp on the cleaning staff, and the stalls have floor to ceiling doors. Seven takes a quick look around, but I drag him into the farthest stall and shove him in hard.

Shit, I should be gentler—but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s just encouraging me.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” I growl, shutting the door behind me and crowding him. “Grinding against me for the entire fucking game.”

“Oops?” Seven mocks, smirking up at me. He’s got the most kissable lips, but at the same time, I can think of better things to do with that mouth. Hell, I can think of better things to do with him.

“I wanna bruise you up,” I murmur, taking his wrists and holding them against the wall. “Make you hurt for days.”

Shit, I need to calm down. I’m supposed to stay in control of myself. This is the same crap my last fuck buddy complained about.

“Yeah?” Seven asks, spreading his legs and making it impossible to think of anything but that lean, willing body of his. “What’s stopping you?”

I take a deep breath. “I fucking mean it. I’ll hurt you. If you’ve got a problem with that?—”

“So hurt me,” Seven says, his eyes molten as he writhes against me, not trying to pull away like I would’ve expected after my confession. “Fuck me. Bruise me. I want it.”

Fucking hell. I surge against him, gripping his wrists tighter and driving my thigh between his legs. He squirms but doesn’t try to break away, grinding his clothed cock against my thigh with a moan.

“Harder,” Seven tells me breathlessly. “Don’t be a pussy, Havoc. Or are you just trying to get me back for teasing you before?”

I bite his lip, bruising it harder, before I force him to turn around and press against the stall door. I grab his jeans and pull them down as far as I can. A few casino chips clatter onto the tiled floor. His ass?—

His ass already has bruises from an obvious spanking. The marks are healing, but whoever did this spanked him hard.

I groan and press my fingers into the dark spots.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding about your daddy giving you a spanking,” I say. “Was it bad?”

“Mm,” Seven hums, shoving against my hands. “No. It was good. If you’d helped me, he might’ve let you stay to watch.”

“You like that?” I ask, dragging his shirt up so I can drag my nails across his skin. The red lines I leave across his back make my cock throb. “You want everybody to see what a slut you are?”

Seven laughs, though there’s a dark edge to the sound. “Yeah. I want everyone to know I’m a fucking slut.”

I reach down and undo my belt and fly, then pull out my hardening cock. A few strokes and I’m fully erect, ready to plow into him.

“Or maybe you just want the punishment,” I growl, biting the nape of his neck. “You want the pain. You want to feel something fucking real.”

His answering moan is the only reply he gives me, but it’s enough. I spread his ass cheeks with my other hand, staring at his hungry little hole for a beat before I spit onto it.

“I don’t have lube,” I warn him, rubbing the head of my cock against it.

“I don’t need it,” he gets out, his voice high with pain and adrenaline. He pushes his ass back against me, his hole hot and needy.

My head grows fuzzy with desire, and I almost push into him immediately—until another unwanted thought occurs to me.

“Wait,” I say, half whining. I bite his neck again. “I don’t have a condom.”

Seven makes another frustrated sound. “I don’t care.”

That should give me pause, but I’m too fucking horny to give a shit either.

I plunge into him, bottoming out with one heavy thrust. Seven howls and claws at the stall door, lifting up and tightening his ass.

He’s so hot inside, practically pulling me in, and I pull out so I can thrust back in even harder. The door rattles on its hinges.

I wrap a hand around Seven’s mouth to muffle his wails. “Shut up,” I growl as I keep thrusting. “You’re gonna give us away.”

He licks the palm of my hand with a groan, but I give him a hard shake. It has the desired effect of silencing him, but in the quiet that falls between us, I realize we aren’t alone in the bathroom anymore.

Footsteps grow closer, and I mentally beg the person to pick literally any other stall than the one next to ours. He’s got to know what we’re doing.

Then there’s pounding on the other side of the stall door. “Open up,” a gruff voice says.

“It’s fucking occupied,” I growl at him.

Seven has gone completely still. I keep fucking him, leaning down to bite Seven’s shoulder again.

The entire stall door rattles on its hinges as the man continues to try to beat the damn thing down. “I said, open the fuck up!”

I don’t know what happens. One moment, I’m fucking Seven up against the stall door. The next, the stall door flies open, and I stumble a step forward. Seven cries out, crashing against the heavy looking bruiser.

I freeze and meet his gaze. Fuck, it’s the same guy from the other night, when I got banned from blackjack—the same guy who’d dragged Seven back into the casino when he’d tried to leave.

His expression is murderous as he looks from me to Seven, then back to me. “Get the fuck off of him!” he bellows. He pulls on Seven, who yelps in pain as my cock is pulled from his ass. It’s not comfortable for me, and I sure as hell doubt it’s comfortable for him.

“Oh my god,” Seven whines, standing up straight and trying to pull his pants up. “Vortex?—”

“You are not. Supposed. To. Fuck. Anyone. Else,” Vortex says emphatically, stabbing at Seven’s chest with each punctuated word.

Anger rises inside me. I fucking hate guys who throw their weight around like that. I wrap my arm around Seven and pull him back against my chest. “Fuck off. He wanted it. You don’t get to tell him what to do.”

Vortex lets out a dark laugh. “No, I don’t. But Mr. Spade does, and he doesn’t like it when people touch his fucking property. Seven here knows better.”

“Technically,” Seven says, letting me hold him against me, “ Mr. Spade said I couldn’t seduce the employees. My friend here isn’t an employee.”

Vortex’s face gets redder. “That’s not what he meant, and you know it.”

He grabs Seven’s throat, and I immediately get my hand around Vortex’s wrist.

“Let him go right the fuck now,” I growl. “Don’t think I can’t take you just because my cock is out.”

Vortex’s fingers flex, and to my utter astonishment, Seven moans. “I think I like being fought over,” he says, shivering. “C’mon, Vortex. I’ll suck you off. You can tell Caleb, and he can spank my ass again, but don’t you want something out of it?”

“No,” Vortex barks out. “I’m calling Mr. Spade. You—” He points to me, “Get the fuck out of the casino. You’re banned.”

“I’m fucking not,” I argue. My erection has wilted, and that rage I’ve been trying to hold at bay is threatening to overtake me. “I wasn’t doing anything illegal?—”

“Try public indecency, buddy,” Vortex argues.

“Yeah? What about you, and how you’re harassing Seven?” I dig my fingers harder into Vortex’s wrist. He’s a big guy, but I see him wince. “Let him go, asshole.”

Seven tries to step out of my arms, but he’s held in place by Vortex’s big hand around his throat. “Vortex?—”

“Shut up. I’m calling security,” Vortex snarls, but he can’t get to the radio he’s wearing with my grasp on his wrist.

I clumsily pull my jeans up with one hand, glaring at Vortex the entire time. “Last chance. Let him go.”

Vortex barks out a harsh laugh. “Or you’ll do what?”

Seven is squirming against me, and he manages to get out, “Vortex, fucking stop it. I’ll go with you to Caleb or whatever.”

I did warn him. I let go of Vortex’s wrist and hastily zip my fly.

“I see why you wanted to get out of here now,” I say to Seven.

Then I launch myself at Vortex, fist forward, and catch him in the jaw. He stumbles back a few steps, losing his hold on Seven.

This is what got me into trouble with the army, too: flying off the handle and solving my problems with violence.

Seven scrambles out of the way, his eyes wide as Vortex regains his balance and swings right back at me.

“Fucking stop it!” Seven shouts, but neither of us are listening to him.

I kick Vortex in the knee and smile triumphantly when he stumbles forward.

The adrenaline rushes through me, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears. All I can feel is the righteous anger.

This motherfucker needs to go down.