The Girl Who Doesn’t Quit (Soulless #12) Read Online Victoria Quinn

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Soulless Series by Victoria Quinn
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Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
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I stood at the bar and felt my phone vibrate in my clutch.

I pulled it out and saw the message on the screen.

Baby, you look hot in that dress.

The grin hit me hard, opening my mouth wide.

And that smile is hot too.

I looked up at the camera that had me in the background and rolled my eyes.

Still hot.

One of the guys came over to me and told me to take a seat.

Atlas must have seen that too because his message popped up. Get ’em.

I returned my phone to my clutch then approached the table. Some of the guys were already gathered there. Most of them didn’t have drinks, but one or two did. I took a seat and waited for the match to start.

The chair across from me was vacant.

Until a familiar face took a seat.

In a leather jacket with a white tee underneath, he looked handsome and dangerous at the same time. His blond hair was exactly the same as I remembered, and his eyes showed the same confidence I used to like.

I hadn’t realized he would be my opponent. We hadn’t crossed paths since I’d hung up on him, so I assumed he purposely avoided me. Smart choice, since I took his money last time we played. I had the best poker face in the world—literally—so I gave him an indifferent look.

His eyes locked on to mine, and he definitely wasn’t surprised to see me.

A lot of emotions rushed through me underneath the surface because he’d hurt me so damn bad. He didn’t just break my heart, but he humiliated me too. I’d never forget the look on my father’s face when I took my seat beside Dex, and Mason wasn’t there. I’d gotten pulled into his charming ways, actually believed he was serious when he just wanted me on his hook until he was finished with me.

It was the stupidest thing I’d ever done.

But I acted like he was another opponent I didn’t give a shit about.

We played round after round, the pot growing bigger, players raising one another, bluffing, calling one another’s bluffs.

Poker was a game of bullshit.

As hard as Mason tried to hide his thoughts, I knew his tells.

I knew every little thing about him.

So, I knew when his hands were good. When they were bad. When he was slightly flustered.

Two of the other guys folded, so it was just Mason and some guy from Michigan.

Michigan looked at his cards for a moment before he pushed in his chips.

With his hand cupped over his cards, Mason lifted them to take a peek. His eyes shifted for just a moment before he looked at me.

I kept my smile back because I knew I had him.

He had no idea if I was bluffing or not.

He made the choice and folded.

I threw in more chips then looked at Michigan.

He folded too.

Idiots.

I didn’t just count cards to know when I would get the hand to win. I always enjoyed bluffing because it was professional lying. And if I failed to do that, then people would always know when I had a good hand and when I didn’t.

I laid my cards flat on the table.

A two. A queen. A nine. An ace. And a four.

Basically, a pile of shit.

Michigan released an annoyed sigh that was loud over the clinking chips in the casino.

Mason just stared at me.

I reached to the center of the table, and with my eyes fixed on his, dragged my millions toward me—and took his money.

He broke my heart. But at least I broke his wallet.

I cashed out then strutted through the casino, drink in hand, feeling victorious for reasons that had nothing to do with the money I’d just won. I was on cloud nine, getting the last laugh.

I went into my room and tossed my clutch on the bed before I removed my heels. The check was stuffed into the front of my dress in case someone tried to rob me on the way back to my room, so I dropped it on the bed. I also had some cash, so I pulled that out of my wallet and threw it on the bed.

My phone vibrated.

The bright screen lit up the dark room. You better call me.

I changed into a black bodysuit that pushed my small tits together and gave me some cleavage. I put on black stockings even though he probably wouldn’t see much of those. Sometimes lingerie was just for me.

I sat against the headboard with my legs apart, my computer between my calves, the screen tilted back to look up at me. Cash was everywhere, on the pillows next to me, on the sheets. I texted him the link to join me, and as I waited, my fingertips slid underneath the material between my legs and I got started.

His face came into view a moment later, wearing a t-shirt in his living room. “Baby, you kicked—” He shut his mouth when he saw that I was already going, getting started without him. He watched me for a moment, his eyes turning intense, his skin flushing. His hands pulled his shirt over his head to reveal his perfectly carved body, and he pushed down his sweatpants so his fat cock came out.



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