Red River Showdown by J. R. Roberts

more and enter her from a slightly better angle.
    Clint knew he was hitting a sweet spot inside of her because he could feel Gretchen’s entire body tremble. Running his hands along the gentle curves of her backside, Clint buried his cock deep inside of her. When he pulled out, he allowed himself to slip completely out of her and then slid right back in again.
    A few more of those, and Gretchen was breathing heavily as another orgasm built up. This time, when she let out a long, pleasured moan, Clint did the same. He drove all the way inside of her and pushed just a little deeper, until his own climax made him weak in the knees.

TWENTY-THREE
    Clint was up a hundred dollars and could have been up even more if he hadn’t been trying so hard to lose. The main room was full of new faces, but most of the ones at his table were familiar. Jones and Barry were still there. Mia sat in her normal seat and, every so often, someone else would drift in and out of the game.
    The only time anyone asked any questions was when someone got up to leave the game. When that happened, people looked at the deserter with confusion and pure shock. The night was still young and they were all there to gamble. If not, then more than a few people would ask what else better there was to do on that boat.
    Gretchen wasn’t anywhere to be seen after Clint left his room, so that excuse wasn’t available.
    He didn’t want to risk being spotted walking in the wrong direction if he simply said he had to relieve himself by getting rid of some of the beer he’d been drinking. That only left one more reason why a gambler would volunteer to walk away from one of the best poker games around.
    Clint had to lose.
    At first, it seemed like a fairly easy thing to do. He didn’t want to be too obvious about it, because that could draw as much suspicion as cheating to win. He also didn’t want to lose too much because he still planned on playing some cards when he was done sorting through his other business.
    Unfortunately, Lady Luck still wasn’t done smiling on him after the gift Clint had gotten in his room earlier that night. Even though he meant to lose a chunk of his winnings for the sake of getting some time away from the poker room, Clint couldn’t possibly throw away some of the hands he was dealt.
    Tossing a natural flush was the same as asking him to toss a pet over the side of a cliff.
    Pitching the straight flush he’d filled in after drawing one card would have been harder than cutting off his own arm.
    Finally, Clint swallowed his gambling instincts and folded after glancing toward his cards without actually looking at them. “I need to get some fresh air,” he said.
    â€œWhat?” Barry asked. “Why?”
    â€œI just want to get up and stretch my legs.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œMaybe I’ll come with you. I got a few things I’d like to discuss.”
    Clint had no clue what could be on Barry’s mind, but he didn’t want to find out. Before he was roped into an entire conversation about it, he waved the man off and waited for his next hand to be dealt. This time, he smirked and only asked for one card after raising the bet. When he got his card, Clint raised again.
    â€œI think I got you now,” Barry said.
    â€œCan you beat a flush?” Clint asked.
    â€œAw shit.”
    Clint laid down his cards and started to reach for the chips. Before he could touch one of them, his hand was grabbed by a cold, iron grip.
    â€œNot so fast,” Jones snapped as he pulled Clint’s hand away from the pot. “That’s not a flush.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about? That’s a ten-high club flush.”
    â€œThat ten isn’t a club. It’s a spade.”
    Clint squinted down at the cards and then glared up at Barry. “You see what happened? I wanted to stretch my legs, you made me stay and now