Devyn + Chacal Luck Be A Lady

St. Patrick's Day (Las Vegas)

The kid ain't done too bad for himself. Looking around Connor's casino, even I must admit that he nailed it. People are goddamn everywhere—playing at the tables, eating at the restaurants, milling around like well-dressed vagrants— all hoping to see...something.

Las Vegas is an interesting little town. The people here celebrate the most obscure holidays— Groundhog's Day, Cinco de Mayo—hell even St. Patrick's Day is more than a note in the annals. I associate this kind of gusto with Mardi Gras which strangely enough they don't celebrate.

This odd elevation of the mundane is in part the reason behind my unwanted venture into enemy territory or so I've been told by that hellcat of a woman I sleep next to each night.

Speaking of Devyn, where in the hell is she?

You know what the old folks say, speak of the devil and the devil shows his face. In my case, the devil is a six-foot-tall Amazon. Skin a little more bronze than gold from the desert sun, glacial green eyes searching the crowd, feline gait collecting hungry male gazes as she maneuvers through bodies.

"What in the hell is that on your head, suga'?" I mumble under my breath taking in a green tinsel wig that brushes the tops of her shoulders and the thin white t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan: Irish girls do it better.

I don't raise a hand, nor do I take a step.

I wait.

Devyn will come to me as she always does, and no sooner than that thought crosses my mind does her eyes latch on to mine, unblinking.

Her approach is slow. It gives me a chance to appreciate this new casual version. My woman is known for luxury suits and designer heels. Not jeans and t-shirts and gaudy wigs. This is a version of her I've never seen, interesting to say the least.

"Hola, corazón." She whispers against my lips in a welcoming kiss. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her in close.

"Darlin' good Irish girls speak English."

"Thank God I'm Cuban then."

"Touché suga'." I say brushing green plastic out of her eyes. "You wanna tell me why we're here?"

"I thought that would be obvious." Inky eyebrows drop into a frown and her shoulders slump a little in defeat.

Like I said a whole new version.

I study her a little closer noting the glazed eyes and the rosy spots high on her cheeks. "You've been drinking." It's an observation not a question.

Her head is nodding even as the words "Not really." come from her mouth.

I should have seen this coming. The stress on Devyn has been mounting. She wasn't one hundred percent behind this action. I can't count how many times she asked that we wait, get more data, move only when success was guaranteed, but life is risk. I can admit now that maybe now wasn't the perfect time. Yet, I still have every bit of faith that we'll come out the victors.

Admittedly, nailing Connor down has proved harder than we originally thought. The last remaining members of Le Milieu have been undermining my new position as leader keeping me in New Orleans more than I originally thought necessary to quell dissension in the ranks and to top it off we still haven't established ourselves as the front runners in the Naked City, our new home.

But I know exactly what she needs....me.

Yes, she is strong. More capable than most men. I've seen her kill without blinking an eye and sit across the table from goons and bosses negotiating with a steely calm that can only be described as frightening.

Devyn is many things rolled into one delectable package. An overly controlled, linear thinking package, that occasionally, needs to be brought to her knees by the only man to ever do it. Me.

I wrap a hand around the back of her neck, pinning her in place. Close to her ear I whisper, "If you needed to fuck darlin' I'm always happy to oblige."

"I don't. Mar–" she starts but I kiss my name out of her mouth. A plan formulating in my head. The woman is trembling in my arms from little more than a kiss. She most definitely needs to be dicked down, but she also needs to be dominated while she takes it.

Devyn needs to let go of the worry, the stress, the ten-thousand-foot view with a thousand moving parts, and infinite possible outcomes.

I pull back and stare into her eyes. "Do you see the companion care restroom over my shoulder?" She nods.

"Words darlin'. I need to hear you say it."

Her eyes flit imperceptibly before returning to mine. "I see it."

"I want you to go in there, take off this God-awful wig, your bra and panties." I say low, demanding.

"I am not going to stand around naked in a public restroom." She snaps but the flush creeping up her skin and the nipples pebbled under her thin shirt tell me she wants to.

"No." I emphasize. My hand around her throat closing a little tighter. "You're not. This pussy ain't for sale suga' but it is mine to do with as I please." I pause giving her a moment to absorb my words. "I know exactly what you need. Let me give it to you."

"Let's go home..." I shake my head because this can't wait for a jaunt through a casino or a drive in the car. It needs to happen now. "Walk to the restroom Devyn. Take the shit off your head. Put your panties in your back pocket, and your bra in your purse. You have five minutes darlin' don't make me say it again."

I release her neck and once again wait.

What's it going to be suga'?

Devyn takes the first couple of steps on wobbly legs, but she straightens out. Her back ramrod straight. Her head twisting over her shoulder ever so often to check if I'm watching, if I've moved.

Have I neglected my woman so much that she's unsure I'll follow?

We set that shit straight now.

I glance down at my watch and it's just hit the two-minute mark when I start to walk.

We are not in the vicinity of five when I open the door, enter and close the door behind me twisting the lock to trap us inside.

Devyn watches me approach in the mirror. Dark pupils blown wide open. Lips parted as she drags more oxygen into her lungs.

"It's only been four minutes." She states as a matter of fact. Never bothering to glance at the watch dangling from her wrist.

"Indeed. But I couldn't wait. It's been damn near a month since I've laid eyes on you. Missed you darlin'."

"Yet there you are on the other side of the room."

"You don't like the distance suga' I'm right here waiting on the other side of this divide." I say extending a hand.

Devyn turns and walks toward me. Our eyes stay locked. The tension mounting with each foot fall. In five steps she's close enough to grab and in seven my mouth is on hers. I clasp her face in both hands and control her mouth. Take a minute to enjoy the taste of her.

"Dammit if you don't taste like home." I say panting against her lips.

"Because I am your home. You belong here." she whispers fitting her body against mine. "Not by yourself with no one watching your back."

Deft fingers unbuckle my belt and rip it through the loops. "We are stronger together." she says through clenched teeth.

I grasp that horrible plastic hair in my hand and pull it from her head. Dark curly hair falls like a dark cloud over my fingers. "I never said we weren't stronger together. I only said in these particular circumstances we needed to divide and conquer."

Fisting her newly freed hair I forced her down making her ass hit her ankles in a perfectly held squat.

"Unzip me, suga'."

Her hands shake a little as she pulls down my zipper. She moans when she sees I'm motherfucking commando and the sound is like a tuning fork to my balls. Devyn grips my dick and sucks just the tip inside her mouth.

My hips push forward seeking deeper entry, but nails sink into my thighs. A silent message to stay still.

I'll give you as long as I can suga' but here are no guarantees how long I'll last.

She flicks her tongue in the slit at the head. Peppering open mouth kisses down the shaft before taking me deep.

"Fuck," somewhere I find the presence of mind to keep my voice down. "That feels good."

Devyn may be the one on her knees or in this case squatting in front of me, but I fully understand she's in control. I brought her in here to dominate and I'm the one being dominated.

My thrusts start to pick up speed and force. I fuck her face the way I would that tight pussy. I try to ease when tears gather in her eyes and spill down her cheeks, but she won't let me stop. Nails dig harder into my ass. Her head bobbing to take more of me inside.

Don't come. Don't come. Don't come.

I pull my length from her mouth gasping. "Up suga'. When I come, it won't be down your throat. I want it deep inside, so you feel it leaking out, when we walk out this bathroom."

We stand eye to eye, our chests rising and falling with rapid breaths.

And with the familiarity of lovers that know how to please and be pleased we maneuver ourselves. Devyn turning to face the door, pulling her jeans down to rest above her knees. Me giving my shaft a couple of rough tugs before lining the crown with her slippery entrance and deftly I push inside.

Devyn fits me like my Glock–custom, tight, perfect– molded just for my body.

No words are needed as we move together. Devyn bucking back as I drive forward. I tunnel into her body over and over. Reaching down to thrum her clit. Blood rushes to my head as my heart tries desperately to keep going.

There you go suga'. There you go.

Her hips rock back harder. Taking what she wants. Riding my dick with goddamn precision. With a silent scream Devyn comes beautifully. Head thrown back on my shoulder, hips still pumping. I only last four more strokes before I follow her.

It takes us a while to clean ourselves up. The earlier tension fully dissipated and replaces by soft touches and sweet kiss.

When we open the door and walk out no one appears to be the wiser. I lace my fingers with hers when the song over the speakers catches my attention.

Frank Sinatra croons Luck Be A Lady. I listen to his description and smile at Devyn.

Oh, she is a lady, Frank.

A perfect beautiful killer of a lady.