Strip Poker Pov Novels & Stories

"Of course, you can always add things that aren't on here." As they placed their bets, the guys insisted that if she played poker she had to drink whisky. The dark amber liquid burned her throat, but she got used to it and soon was rather enjoying the drink. On the third round, Calvin dealt the cards and Steffie stared at what she had. She glanced over at the chart of hands to confirm it and, yes, she had a straight flush. Two of diamonds to a six of diamonds. She kept a straight face and placed her bet. She only had sixty dollars left to play with and glanced over at the non-money betting chart.

"Oh! That's because Ms. Rebecca … and I worked very well together. We won three rounds!" "Then, what about 'Why is it me again? I've reached my limit'?" Penny asked. "That's because I've lost too many rounds, so much so that I almost lost my underwear! We were playing strip poker, you see. Look at me! I almost lost everything. I was lucky that you guys came right in time!" The other thug scratched his head. Compared to the outside, the tension in the room was much more suffocating. At that point, almost all of the guests were gone. Only Jessica, Karen, and Daniel were left in the room.

We played Monopoly first, and he kept stealing my hotels with a wicked grin. “You’re ruthless,” I laughed as he bankrupted me again. “Only in games,” he said, leaning over to kiss me. “In real life, I’d give you the whole board if you asked.” We switched to cards next. Strip poker started as a joke but quickly turned teasing and heated. I lost my cover-up first. Zephyr lost his shirt on purpose, flexing dramatically when I called him out for cheating. “You’re terrible at this,” I giggled as he lost his watch next.

But will the wounds on my insides ever heal? Bastien stood up and nodded. “We stayed up very late last night, playing that poker as you called it.” He rolled his eyes. “A silly game it was.” She grinned at him. “Yes, but I never showed you the real poker game.” He paused and swung his dark gaze down. “Oui?” Nodding her head, she giggled. “Strip poker is where it’s at, sweet Bastien.” He froze and stared at her for a few seconds. “I am not sweet, Angel.” His tone had dropped.

To add to my woes, he unbuttoned his jacket, revealing his broad chest and the body I had suspected him to be hiding under the shirt. I gasped and got a strong urge to touch his chest. What is wrong with me? When did I become like this? "Let's play!" He started picking up the card. "But I don't have any money!" I couldn't take my eyes off his body. "You don't need to worry about money, we are playing strip poker," he answered without looking at me, and I just nodded agreeably like a brainless idiot. We started playing while sipping the alcohol every time he offered it to me.

I ate quietly, drinking a glass of water. After they cleared the plates, Carl pulled out cards. “Join us, Maria,” he said, patting the chair beside him. I hesitated, but Josh’s nod urged me in. The game was simple…poker, low stakes with matches as chips but the bets turned personal fast. Losers stripped a layer, Rick declared with a grin. I folded early, heart racing, but they pressed, teasing me, until I lost my tank top on a bad draw. Bare-breasted now, nipples hardening in the draft, I crossed my arms, but Ben reached over, prying them down gently.

The next hand went down, and another guy had to peel off his pants, standing there in his boxers while the group razzed him about his skinny legs. My heart started pounding harder in my chest, a flush creeping up my neck as I realized this was strip poker, and they were all getting down to less and less clothing. Watson lost his shirt soon after, unbuttoning it slowly and shrugging it off, exposing his broad chest with just a light dusting of hair across his pecs, muscles flexing as he stretched his arms. God, he looked good, better than I had imagined from the quick glances over the fence. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, feeling a warm tingle building between my legs, my thi

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POV: Kai The fluorescent lights of the underground poker room flickered, casting long, jagged shadows against the peeling wallpaper. The air was thick with the scent of stale cigars and desperate ambition—a scent I had become far too familiar with lately. I leaned back in the rickety chair, trying to maintain the effortless smirk that had served as my armor for years, but my knuckles were white as I gripped my cards. "You’re quiet tonight, Thorne," the man across from me drawled. Miller was a local bookie with a smile like a shark and a reputation for never losing. "Usually, the star athlete has more to say when the stakes are this high."

Dangerous. And when he finally set down his cards—four of a kind, of course—and leaned back with a victorious smirk, I knew I’d walked straight into a trap. “Your move,” he murmured. My throat went dry. Because this wasn’t just strip poker anymore. It was foreplay. “want to finish the orgasm you started? He said I gulped