Pool Hall Passion

Riley's Pool Hall was where money went to die—and where I was about to lose mine to a woman in leopard print.

She called herself Jade, though I doubt that was her real name. Curvy as hell, squeezed into jeans that should have been illegal, with a low-cut top showing off tits that could stop traffic. Gold hoops, acrylic nails, the works.

"Twenty a frame?" she asked, chalking her cue like she'd done it a thousand times.

"Make it fifty."

"Confident." She smiled. "I like confident."

She broke, sank three balls before I even breathed. By the time she'd cleaned the table, I was down a hundred quid and had a suspicion I'd been hustled.

"Another game?" She was leaning on the table, giving me a view that made losing feel worthwhile.

"Different stakes this time."

"Oh?"

"If I win, you tell me your real name."

"And if I win?"

"I'll do whatever you want."

Her eyes darkened. "Deal."

I won. Just barely, on a fluke shot that even I didn't expect. She looked impressed for about half a second before she laughed.

"Fine. It's really Jade. Boring, I know." She set down her cue, walked toward me. "Now let's discuss my consolation prize."

"Thought I won?"

"You did. But I still want what I want."

She kissed me right there, in the middle of the pool hall. A few lads cheered; I didn't care. Her body pressed against mine, all curves and heat.

"Back room," she murmured. "Now."

The back room was where they kept the extra cues, mostly unused. She locked the door, bent over a spare table.

"Been wanting this since you walked in," she said. "Something about the way you hold a cue."

"Yeah?"

"Knew you'd know how to use those hands."

I ran my hands up her thighs, squeezed her arse through those tight jeans. She moaned, pushed back against me.

"Don't tease. Just fuck me."

Her jeans came down—no knickers, just a bare arse with a little heart tattoo. I pulled her cheeks apart, found her already wet.

"Someone's ready."

"Been ready since frame one."

I freed myself, pushed in. She groaned, gripping the edge of the table.

"Fuck—yes—harder—"

I fucked her bent over that pool table, her moans echoing off the walls. She was tight, hot, and vocal as hell.

"Pull my hair—yeah—like that—"

I grabbed a handful, tugged. She came with a shout, pushing back against me. The table slid across the floor.

"Keep going—don't stop—"

I didn't. Fucked her until we were both dripping sweat, until she'd cum twice more and I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Inside me—give it to me—"

I came hard, buried deep, feeling her clench around me.

We stayed there, catching our breath, her still bent over the table.

"Rematch tomorrow?" she asked.

"What's the stake?"

"Winner picks the position. Loser provides the location."

I lost the next night on purpose. Her flat had a much comfier bed than a pool table.

Worth every penny.