Gotham Pool Tables Novels & Stories

ARRETT Cole sinks the eight ball and throws his arms up like he just won a championship. “That’s five games in a row. Pay up, Nash.” “Fuck off. You’re cheating somehow.” “I’m not cheating, you’re just shit at pool.” Nash flips him off and drains the rest of his whiskey. We’ve been at the penthouse since around eight and it’s past midnight now. The kind of night where nobody has anywhere to be and we’re all too comfortable to leave.

He had to run somewhere, to unclog his mind, to shake it free of dust. It was a casino bar in downtown New York City. The dimly lit room had the low murmur of voices from men and women on gambling tables, the clicking of the roulette wheel, the wafting of cigar smoke and the swirl of whiskey from glasses. “Man, that’s the third flop in a row,” Peter muttered as he leaned over the snooker table, squinting at the shot like it owed him money.

I found myself seated at the bar, sipping a cocktail, about five minutes after I left my hotel. I perched on my stool, ensuring I looked available as I glanced around the bar. It wasn’t bad for a shifter bar. Pool tables were situated on the far side, with a dance floor under strobe lights in the middle of the room. Booths were peppered all around, leaving a wide birth for movement to the different spaces. My eyes landed on a muscular wolf leaned up against one of the pool tables. My years of training told me he was a pack warrior, the lack of a prominent mark said he was unmated.

My boots barely made any sound because of the soft fur rug and I walked downstairs quickly, not taking the elevator in case she forgot something and came back. The city of Seoul is bustling at night. I hailed down a taco and sat behind. “Where to sir?” “The best casino you have here.” The man muttered something about foreigners but I ignored him, excited. I paid him when he came to a stop, coming down in front of the casino. It is exactly like the ones at home. There's a regal butler standing there. “Where is the pool table?” “Hello sir,” she smirked, bowing slightly. “Our pool players are requested to hold a minimum of five thousand dollars in the account.”

I can already picture myself sneaking in here late at night, wrapped in a blanket, pretending this life is mine. Then comes a game room, another space that looks straight out of a billionaire's dream. There's a pool table under a low-hanging light fixture, a poker table that practically begs for whiskey and secrets, and dartboards mounted on either end of the wall. It's the kind of room where men make bets they shouldn't and I probably shouldn't want to watch. Next is the gym. Floor to ceiling mirrors, high end machines, more space than a PSP Gym. The air smells like cedar and sweat and something distinctly masculine. I pretend not to imagine him working out in here, shirtless and sweaty, mu

Like he cared? I ran my finger along the top rail of the table. It was beautiful—crafted from slate with vintage charm. I smirked and tilted my head, letting him know I was definitely still in it. I could play pool in my sleep. "It's a hundred to enter," he announced. I gaped. That much? Did he think we were made of money? I almost smacked my head in disbelief. Of course, he did—we were in a mansion. Rolling my eyes, I pulled out my old, worn leather wallet and slapped 40 bucks on the table.

That's what happens here all the time so it's nothing new Loud moans could be heard from different directions. There's a pool where the dead bodies of numerous ladies were thrown in there. A table was kept in the middle where men on black suits were all seated gambling, some were receiving blowjobs from their bitches, while those who weren't interested stayed at the table smoking from a long pipe, one among those men was.. 'Draco' is the man I am going to see right now. "Draco! Draco!" I yelled rushing towards him.

he narrowed his eyes at me, “any reason you asked us to tag along with you Mr. one and done?” I rubbed the back of my neck, “thought it would be fun, I need to get out of my own head, relax, have a laugh or two, plus I hear Antonia has added some things since Abi and Christov sold it to her brother, she’s put in a few pool tables,” he shrugs, “girls in short skirts, bending over a pool table.” Gamma Gabe chuckled, “yea, you enjoy that, I have the only one that will satisfy me now,” he stood and arched his brow, “ready we have training and the pups today.”

"When I started feeling sexy as hell. I want the outside to match the inside. All part of this new game of ours." He knew he still looked confused, his brows bunched up over his nose. "Are you planning on meeting someone tonight?" She winked at him. "Always be prepared. My new motto." He shook his head. "As I said the other night, I'll follow your lead." The Corner Pocket was a small pool place tucked back in the middle of a shopping plaza on the beach. With fifteen tables lined up in five rows of three, surrounded by tables and chairs, and an old oak bar set to the east of the building, the establishment was alive with eighties rock and loud conversation. Glasses clinking mingled with the c

“This is impressive.” “Can I play them?” Clay asked with a begging tone. “Of course. That’s why I brought you down here.” Clay jogged to the games. “Who built the bar?” Scott asked as he walked to it. He studied the carvings on the corners. “Don’t know. It was here when we bought it nine years ago. The pool table came with the house too.” “It’s fine workmanship,” he commented. Noise came from the Pac-Man machine. They looked over at Clay who was mesmerized by the game. They smiled.