Chapter 4

Maya

My first six months at the Midnight Casino had gone like this.

He'd show up every Friday night around 10: p.m., pay for a private show, and until I closed around 3:00 a.m., I was his.

Wholly.

“Tease your nipples for me, carino,” he murmured, watching me closely.

God, his voice. It did crazy things to me.

“Like this?” I purred, tweaking my nipples and I could hear his breathing turn uneven.

“Just like that,” he groaned like he was in pain. But he never touched himself. 

Not once. 

He never even brought it out. And I was sure it wasn't because it was… small… with the way it strained against his pants—so why…?

“They’re so pretty, Cherry.” He wet his lips, still concentrating on the movement of my fingers around their hardened peaks. “So… pink. I bet they taste heavenly.”

So taste them, I wanted to say… but he never let things go that far. 

If this was his way of being respectful, it was driving me fucking crazy!

He was paying huge money—so fucking use it!

I wanted him to touch me.

I wanted him to fuck me so badly, I could die.

The only time he let himself grope my ass was during lap dances. 

When I fingered myself or did anything else for his pleasure, he only watched. Like he was burning the sight into his memory to use later…

One time, I'd gotten so wound up to the point of being pissed, I'd tossed his money back in his face and told him to leave.

He'd gotten angry then, pinning me against the wall. “Really, chica? You're angry I don’t want to fuck you senseless in this cursed place like a common whore?!”

Shame washed over me, then—because THAT… was exactly what I'd wanted.

“Hold on,” his eyes narrowed. “Is that really it? Do you let them touch you? These…” His face twisted, like the thought actually pained him. “…other men.” He bit the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you let them… fuck you?”

No!

Fuck, no. 

He was the only one. 

The only exception. 

The others—they never got close enough to touch. They weren't even allowed to see me do anything other than dance—but I didn't tell him that. 

And he'd taken my silence for confirmation.

Something in his eyes… died. And then he'd left, angrily. 

I’d been so afraid he wouldn’t come back.

But the next day, a Saturday, a box arrived anonymously, along with a note:

Use this next time. It’s an exact replica of my cock you want so much. ~ L

My heart skipped a beat. 

I knew it was him.

And had he said an… EXACT replica of… What? No. It couldn't be.

Plus that signature… just the letter L. That was the first hint I’d gotten of his name. 

Logan? Lucian? Leo? 

They all fit too well, and I was even more curious. What was the real one?

It was the first time we’d corresponded outside Friday night. And the first time any client had ever gifted me anything at the casino.

The packaging was sleek, but what was inside really stole my attention. And made my cheeks flame.

The toy was bigger than anything I’d ever used, and I gulped just taking it out of the box.

A custom-cast dildo.

A fucking… mold kit.

And knowing he’d curated this just for me… fuck.

I imagined him molding it to himself, by himself, taking care with every detail.

A dangerous thrill ran through me.

And true to his word, the next time he came, he'd made me use it.

“I want you to use your mouth and imagine it's my cock.”

Sometimes, when he showed up, he looked so drained I wanted to console him in any way I could. I’d reached for his pants zipper, but he’d still my hand, fixing me with those alluring eyes and a half-smile curling at one corner of his mouth. “Not tonight.”

I frowned, disappointed. He said that every night he was here. Why had he even come? 

“Say… how much would it be to just talk to you, tonight? And I mean really talk.” He cocked his head at me, studying me closely. “I won't ask your name or anything else too personal or revealing—but when I ask you questions, I need honest answers.”

I'd been taken aback.

He asked me safe questions—like my age, how I ended up here. Pretty embarrassing stuff. He laughed at my jokes.

He’d been the only one who ever saw past the mask I wore on the casino floor. 

The only one I hadn’t had to pretend for.

Fun fact: I had a star-shaped birthmark directly under my left breast. And my tits were big enough that it was hidden unless you… lifted it.

I told him about it and he'd been curious.

“Let me see,” he asked, his voice low and very husky.

“See for yourself,” I’d told him, letting him know he'd have to do the lifting himself. 

He stilled, warring with himself. I wonder why he fought it.

For a moment I thought he'd refuse—like always—but he didn't. 

And gods, that first touch on my breast had had me moaning. Begging for more. For him to use his mouth.

He inhaled sharply, dragging his hand away like it'd burned, and lifted those mismatched eyes to mine.

“It's… beautiful. You're beautiful,” he’d said, with something like wonder in his voice.

I grinned.

Things went on like that for five months. By the sixth month, the last time we met, he'd leaned close, his breath hot near my ear as he told me: “The next time I see you, Cherry. I'll tell you my name. I'll take yours. And then I'll fuck you.”

The intensity in his gaze had made my knees weak and my chest tight. Because finally! After all this time, it would finally happen.

I just had to wait one week.

That was one. Fucking. Year ago! 

I'd waited. And waited. Week after week. Month after month. Dying of anticipation. Heartbroken. Stranded. Until I'd somehow accepted he wasn't coming back. And now…

“Miss Angelo?”

His voice yanked me back. He was still seated, brow furrowed, likely wondering why the prospective nanny was frozen in place.

“Y-yes,” I stammered.

“Please,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”

I moved stiffly, legs shaking, heartbeat deafening in my ears.

He didn’t recognise me. Not yet.

But I recognised him.

And he had a kid? All this time, he had a.. a WIFE?! A fucking family?

But before anger could fully take over, I reminded myself why I shouldn't care. What we had… had been transactional. It was in the past.

And it most certainly wasn't real.

But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.

And there was no universe in which this could possibly end well.

He asked me some pretty random questions at first, and I think I did fine—despite the voice in my head screaming that I'd get caught and this would all blow up in my face!

Then came some basic questions about nannying, that I wasn't so sure I’d done as well at. 

But then he surprised me by saying my qualifications didn’t matter, as long as I was good with kids. He must be really desperate for a nanny. 

That was a relief.

“One more question and the job is yours,” he said. 

I was sweaty from head to toe with nerves, but so far, so good.

“Hit me,” I said, trying to seem confident.

He raised a brow at that, but nodded.

And then he proceeded to ask me what my previous employment had been like—and I'd panicked.

I don't even know, I just panicked!

My chest heaved. I couldn't even breathe! I tried to, but my breaths only came in short, uneven gasps.

Oh god.

My vision blurred at the edges and I thought I was going to faint. Even my hands were beginning to tremble and I felt fear settle itself in my stomach. 

I was fucking this up so badly.

This was the end.

He rushed to my side, placing a steadying hand on my arm.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, “You're alright. You're safe,” but his closeness only made my panic spike.

I could smell his cologne—the same one I’d remembered—and nostalgia had hot tears stinging at the corner of my eyes.

I had to get away from here. I had to get away from HIM. Before I embarrassed myself further, or worse… accidentally exposed myself.

But to my horror… in my flailing, the first three buttons of my shirt popped, spilling my breasts from the revealing bra beneath.

“What the hell?” His shocked eyes flew to mine.

Mortification hit me like a wave. My eyes widened, burning with shame. And then his eyes turned angry—the surprise vanishing immediately. “Was that an act?” He snapped, dangerously. “Are you here to seduce me?”

What? No!

Why would I even— 

Okay, fuck— he was very pissed.

I saw the moment he was going to fire me.

Then the older man from before rushed in.

“Master! It’s the young mas—your son!”

Anger turned to panic instantly. He straightened, rushing toward the door. “What is it?”

“He’s started again.”

“Fuck!” Mr. Alfredo cursed, bolting out the door with the other man.

This was it. I was fired.

But then he returned—alone this time, still in a hurry. He glanced at me, sighed, and— “Fuck it. You’re hired.” 

He took off his vest and tossed it to me, ordering me to: “Fucking cover up!”

I did so quickly.

And then after looking me up and down, from head to toe in a way that made me hot all over—and shaking his head like he couldn't quite believe he was saying it, he said: “Follow me.”