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Authors: Moxie North

Dealer's Choice

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Vegas Large:

Dealer’s Choice

By Moxie North

Vegas Large novellas contain hot hunks, gorgeous curvy women, a bit of romance, and smoking hot sex scenes with lots of dirty talk.

 

“When are you going to run away and live with me, cara mia?”

“When, I don’t have student loans to pay off and rent due, Mr. Savoy,” I replied with a laugh. He usually asked me this question in some form each time I saw him. It was harmless flirtation; I didn’t take it any more seriously than that.

“Ah, my sweet, I’ve told you, I would take care of you. Show you the world, lavish you in jewels and feed you sweets in a bath full of champagne,” he said his eyes scanning my body. Up and down, then zeroing in on my generous hips and ass.

“Mr. Savoy, you’d need a large tub and a lot of champagne to make that happen,” I said trying to joke off the image of me naked along with him naked in a tub.

“I have both, my beauty,” he crooned, his eyes burrowing into mine.

 

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Chapter 1

 

He was here again, I shouldn’t be surprised. He, being Marco Savoy, a wealthy playboy billionaire that spent many an evening gambling at The Platinum’s high roller tables.

Marco was dashing. Seriously, as in romance cover, bodice ripping dashing. He made me think of pirates and maidens in distress. Obviously this is my own fantasy come to life, since if I wasn’t working, I was reading.

My name is Carmen Alvarez. I’m a petite, curvy Latina woman with a rich heritage and an exciting fun filled Vegas lifestyle. Translate that to short and round stay at home hermit and you might get a better picture of the real me.

Ok, round might not be the nicest thing I could say about myself. I was, um, rubenesque? Or pleasantly plump?

Oh, who was I kidding. Too many years of my mama shoving plates of tamales at me or bowls of
posole
when I was blue has made me the woman I am. I’m not unfit mind you. I work out, but I can’t seem to push away from a chocolate fudge cake if my life depended on it.

I’ve found over the years, my considerable assets have been, well, an asset. I always seem to find guys who think I’m the cat’s meow. Whatever that means. I date. I’ve even had a few long term relationships. But I haven’t found ‘The One’. I know, corny and unrealistic but I have to believe he is out there.

Just waiting for me.

Until then, I spend my evenings working the tables at The Platinum. I’ve been here for five, going on six years and have seen it all. But the last year has been good, as in really good. At least for my spank bank fantasies.

Marco starting coming in just over a year ago. The hotel gossip was that he was some rich guy, just moved from Europe. Old money they say, but he still works. Which in my book puts him well above the rich brats that come in and trash the hotel on the weekends. Too much of mommy and daddy’s money and no sense of self respect.

They usually would whine their way into the high rollers lounge, drop huge wads of cash and more often than not, lose huge wads of cash. They were always too drunk to bet well or even follow the game. Wasn’t my job to keep their trust funds flush. And besides, they rarely tipped and never well. Ungrateful little curs.

But tonight was going to be a good night, at least after my shift when I was home alone.

I spotted him sauntering in, (yes he sauntered) and I struggled to keep my eyes on the players in front of me. I was at the blackjack table. Five hundred dollar minimum bet at this table. Marco was more of a poker or baccarat player. But if I was working, he was at my table. Didn’t matter what I was dealing.

Lucky for me, there were two open seats at my table. I tried not to hold my breath waiting for him to make his way over.

He was tall, well over six feet. He was muscled, but not crazy body builder built. He almost always wore a suit, no tie, open collar. All top of the line, expensive. You could just tell that suit would feel like butter if you ever had the chance to brush up against it.

I’d dreamed about brushing up against him. Hell I’ve dreamed about humping his leg like a stray dog.

His hair was messy tonight, like he’d run his fingers through his overgrown black hair a number of times. Sometimes he wore it slicked back and the effect was devastating. He had bright green eyes, like honest to goodness green. Not hazel, not muddied by other colors, but emerald green. Black sooty lashes framed his eyes and there were always little laugh lines framing the edges.

He had an aristocratic nose. I’m saying this because my romance books always seem to describe handsome men that way. I didn’t understand, until I met him, what that meant. It wasn’t too big, but was straight and prominent, balanced out by a firm jaw and a lusciously full mouth. He was olive skinned, not like a tan, but just his natural tone.

Again, he looked like a freaking pirate. And I sooo wanted to be his naughty wench.

Great, I’m spacing, head back in the game Carmen.

An elderly Japanese man to my left keeps tapping the table. He really should stay, but I’m not telling him that. Yup twenty four, saw that one coming.


Cara mia
.”

This was crooned in an Italian accent from a few feet away. Hell, he’d started calling me that after the first time I was a dealer for him. He always said it in a rolling, accented growl. It literally had my panties soaking every time. No joke.

“Mr. Savoy, welcome back to The Platinum,” I responded, sucking up every bit of professionalism I had so he wouldn’t suspect the damp panty situation happening.

“Tsk, tsk, how many times do I have to tell you, my dove, call me Marco,” he said with a wry smile and a waggle of his long perfectly manicured finger.

I offered a smile back and a polite head dip. I’d never called him a Marco, not only was it against hotel policy, but I was one hundred percent sure If I ever uttered his name it would come out so dripping with longing I’d scare the man away. Not just from the hotel, but probably from the whole state of Nevada.

He was my dream man, every night I dug into my bedside goodie drawer for my boyfriend. My battery operated boyfriend that is. I’d imagine him stripping the table of cards and chips, flinging me down on it and ravishing my body.

Admittedly, I might be reading too many books. But this was my fantasy and I wouldn’t apologize.

“Ante up,” I called, setting up for the next hand.

Chapter 2

 

“When are you going to run away and live with me,
cara mia
?”

“When, I don’t have student loans to pay off and rent due, Mr. Savoy,” I replied with a laugh. He usually asked me this question in some form each time I saw him. It was harmless flirtation; I didn’t take it any more seriously than that.

“Ah, my sweet, I’ve told you, I would take care of you. Show you the world, lavish you in jewels and feed you sweets in a bath full of champagne,” he said his eyes scanning my body. Up and down, then zeroing in on my generous hips and ass.

“Mr. Savoy, you’d need a large tub and a lot of champagne to make that happen,” I said trying to joke off the image of me naked along with him naked in a tub.

“I have both, my beauty,” he crooned, his eyes burrowing into mine.

I was staring back. Something was different. This wasn’t the normal cute banter we normally engaged in. He seemed intense, serious and there was a sexual tension radiating off him. I wanted to fan myself as I stood there, but people were watching.

I dragged my eyes from his and scanned the table. Flipping cards for those who tapped. Of course Mr. Savoy nodded at me even though he was sitting on sixteen. I tossed his next card, twenty-one.

I called it and he didn’t even flinch, he hadn’t looked away from me. He was studying me, it felt like he was gauging my every move. I was starting to get a nervous feeling. Not scared, but definitely off kilter.

Hmm, this was new.

I tried keeping my mind on the game. Dealing high rollers was a coveted job. The chance of having to deal with drunk partiers was seriously limited and the tips couldn’t be beat. Mr. Savoy always tossed me a thousand dollar chip when he was finished playing. This had gone a long way in helping me keep myself with a roof over my head and Pop-Tarts in the cupboard.

I should have used it for a gym membership, but the Pop-Tarts won out every time.

Continuing to deal, most of the players tapped out and had left. It was Mr. Savoy and an older gentleman at the end of the table that hadn’t uttered a word since he sat. I figured he didn’t speak English. Gambling was the universal language in Vegas.

I could see the wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes burning into me. I was building up my defenses against the charm assault I knew was coming. Gawd, why did he have to be so handsome? And rich? And sweet?

“One of these days you will give me what I want,
cara mia
,” he said low and quiet breaking into my internal dialogue.

I looked up to see he was making his move. Taking a deep breath I responded with my prepared speech, “Mr. Savoy, I would hate to have our working relationship ruined if you ever found out I’m not nearly as interesting as you think I am.” I finished this with a wonky self-deprecating smile.

Quick as a flash his hand reached out and snagged mine from the felt. His hand was warm and strong. My knees threatened to buckle for a moment. I girded myself and resisted pulling my hand out of his grasp. As long as I didn’t respond I probably wouldn’t get in trouble with my boss.

“Please, have a drink with me at least, after your shift,” he pleaded, squeezing my hand again.

Against my will my fingertips curled lightly into his hand. It was simple but had tingles flicking through my body. I could feel my nipples tightening, just from the touch of his hand.

“Mr. Savoy…” I started, flustered but trying to still pretend to be professional.

“Marco please, my dove, say my name,” he growled.

I could feel it welling up in me, I wanted to hold it back. I’d been resisting for a year.

“M-Marco,” I whispered and watched his eyes close for a brief second as his hand tightened. Yup, it came out like a plea and a moan and all the desire I felt for this man coating one simple name.

When his stunning green eyes opened again I continued, “I have to have this job, I have to pay my bills. This is not a hobby for me. No matter how attractive I find you, I can’t risk my livelihood,” I finished, hoping he’d just let it go. Give me back my hand and we could continue like we always had.

“Ahh,
amore
,” I heard crooned from the other side of the table. Shit, I’d forgotten the quiet man. Jerking my hand back, I realized someone sitting in a security room had caught all of that on tape. Damnit, I couldn’t afford to lose this job.

Glancing back from the old man to Marco, I see him smiling. What the hell was he smiling about? I’d just turned him down, again. Giving him a confused and slightly exasperated expression he smiled even bigger.

I cocked my eyebrow up at him, demanding an answer silently.

“You think I’m attractive, my love,” he said with a chuckle.

Sputtering at this ridiculous statement, “Of course you’re attractive. You do own a mirror don’t you? I mean do you get dressed in the morning in a blacked out room? Brush your perfectly straight white teeth by feel? You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met. Which is why I’m happy to be your dealer, when you stay here at The Platinum, but that’s it.” I realized I was rambling, but there was no help for it.

“Why? Why that’s it?” he inquired, looking honestly confused.

“What do you mean why? You’re you and I’m me. We are like polar opposites in every way. Rich, poor, hot, not. It’s pretty simple really,” I said with a huff. I hated bringing up my lack of self-esteem to people. Usually I could put on the happy with my body routine. But every big girl knows, the times you dream about being someone else are hard to push aside when they take a battering ram to your body image defenses.

“Hmm, I see now. I will have to convince you. I can do this my Carmen. It is for your own good,” he stated, nodding his head apparently to himself.

The elderly man at the end stood and put his hand over his chest and gave a slight bow. Tossing a hundred dollar chip on the table he turned and walked away.

I quickly grabbed the chip. Just because I had Hotty McHotty Pants making my pussy damp, didn’t mean I still didn’t want my tips.

“Would you like to continue playing Mr. Savoy?” I turned back to Marco, straightening my shoulders and trying to blank my expression. I was due for a break and boy did I need one.

“No, my beauty, we are done…for now.” Standing, he placed the thousand dollar chip he usually left me on the table and pushed it towards me. I reached for it without thinking and his fingertips brushed over mine.

“We will continue this later,
mi amore
,” he promised then straightened his jacket and turned without another look.

I nodded to the pit boss and he came over to relieve me for my break. I bee-lined to the break room and sat down at an empty table, letting my head thonk to the surface.

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