Queens Wild: A Revenge Bet Reverse Harem Erotic Short Story

By R. B. Fields

She was furious when her boyfriend wagered her in a poker game, but the victors won't let her be upset for long. RH revenge bet erotica featuring a cowboy, a mafia man, and a burly alpha. And they only have eyes for her. Why choose?

 

Rose's boyfriend is a wanna-be card shark, and he needs her to win his next hand. She's always had a knack for the game.

 

But the gorgeous men Dylan is playing against aren't your average poker players. They don't need more money. And when Dylan loses more than he can afford, it isn't long before the prize on the table is Rose herself.

 

Dylan doesn't know it yet, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pygmalion Publishing
• Release date: May 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781947748446

Book preview

Queens Wild

QUEENS WILD

A REVENGE BET REVERSE HAREM EROTIC SHORT

R. B. FIELDS

Copyright 2021

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not necessarily reflect those of the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, scanned, or transmitted or distributed in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recorded or otherwise without written consent of the author. All rights reserved.

Distributed by Pygmalion Publishing, LLC

ISBN (electronic): 978-1-947748-44-6

CONTENTS

QUEENS WILD

BARGAIN WITH THE BILLIONAIRE

TAKEN

BECKONED

FREE STUFF

ROOM ON TOP

Also by R. B. Fields

About the Author

For the players.

QUEENS WILD

Iwatch his eyes—watch him watching me. The cowboy has barely said a word since he sat down at the table. He’s losing his shirt in this underground poker tournament, but he doesn’t seem to mind with that half-cocked smile. His is a deep-rooted kind of confidence borne of years riding a stallion down a sunset beach. I’m sure it takes a certain amount of swagger to tame a beast that outweighs you by a thousand pounds.

I ordered a whiskey, neat, he says, pushing the brim of his cowboy hat a bit higher on his forehead, a chagrined gesture, but I don’t think he’s apologizing. I’m the one who made the mistake.

I glance at the drink, the cubes pressing lazily against the sides, the condensation dripping like tears down the glass. Heat rises in my chest. I’m so sorry. I’ll get you another.

I reach for it, but he’s already reaching for it, too, his fingers brushing along the back of my hand. Hot electricity pulses up my arm, but then his fingertips are gone. He picks it up and sips. Perhaps you know better. I’d never want to put you out, darlin’.

Darlin’. I’m not one for terms of endearment, but it feels right coming from him, the heady way it drawls off his tongue, or maybe just the look in his blue eyes.

Then again, it might be the cowboy hat.

Ahem.

My head snaps up. There are three others at the table besides the cowboy, and I’d forgotten they existed. It’s the tall burly man across the way who cleared his throat, his bald head shiny in the lamplight, wide, square jaw brushed with stubble. The cowboy called him Bobby, and he looks like a professional wrestler. His T-shirt bears a picture of Yoda, though, so I’m assuming that he’s in technology, software, maybe artificial intelligence—from his appraising gaze, he seems like the type. But he also seems like he doesn’t miss much. Bad for us. Also a negative is how tiny Dylan looks beside him, stringy and pouty. But Dylan’s eyes stay clear, his shoulders high and tight. Unlike that stallion-riding courage, Dylan has the confidence of a cheat. Because he is one.

And so am I.

I swallow hard, but Bobby’s throat-clearing wasn’t to get my attention; his dark eyes are studying his cards. Dylan though… he’s watching me for sure.

I retreat from the room before someone notices the anger—the jealousy—in Dylan’s eyes. The space where they’re playing, where my boyfriend is playing, is a closed-door event. Four men locked inside, four men with piles of chips and shrewd gazes.

No one here is aware that I’m with Dylan—with the man currently trying to win his rent in a lucky hand of Five Card Stud. And they certainly don’t know that