Chapter 1530: Chapter 1530: Whoever Loses, Give Up the Woman
“I didn’t see her face, just thought her figure was great. Brother Rowan, co on, tell —introduce her to next ti, won’t you?”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Jesse Rowan kicked him hard in the knee.
The man dodged and grinned slyly. “Brother Rowan, you’re getting serious, aren’t you? Only when you’re serious would you be unwilling to share, huh? Looks like it’s true—are you planning to make her your steady girlfriend? Or maybe… you’ve fallen for her?”
“Wayland Pierson, fuck your sister!” Jesse Rowan cursed angrily, his expression dark, his eyes filled with a vicious tint. “A woman like that—do you seriously think I’d consider her girlfriend material?”
“I don’t have a sister. Want to fuck instead?” The man nad Wayland chuckled gleefully, staring at the furious Jesse Rowan while patting him on the back. “Don’t be mad, Mr. Rowan. Chill out, alright? I was just kidding. Everyone knows our Mr. Rowan is picky—won’t just go for anyone.”
“Wrong. Truth is, I can go for just about anyone. So listen up, Wayland Pierson: don’t provoke —or I’ll screw anybody, male or female!”
“…” The man’s mouth twitched. What a damn walking horn dog.
Jesse Rowan took a rough drag of his cigarette, his face looking increasingly grim.
The smoking room was cloaked in a haze of smoke, its surroundings shrouded in a dreamlike blur.
“Mr. Rowan, you still haven’t told —which club is that woman from? Her figure looked good, and her skin’s fair, but I didn’t catch her face. Still, Mr. Rowan’s won? Always top-tier, no doubt about it.”
Jesse Rowan sneered coldly, staying silent.
“Mr. Rowan, since you’re not serious about her, how about the usual deal? Bring your girl along for a racing bet. Whoever loses lets the other play with their girl for a night. How about it?”
This was one of the more thrilling activities in their circle of rich kids.
Most of the guys had female companions, and the more uninhibited ones were open to bringing their girls to gas like this.
On the racetrack, the loser’s woman would be offered up to the winner for the night.
Typically, the girls weren’t real girlfriends—most were escorts from hotels or clubs. They were in it for the thrill and didn’t get too emotionally attached.
Plus, rich guys paid well. The won were usually more than happy to play these gas.
Exciting and wild—who wouldn’t love it?
“Who the fuck wants to play with you?” Jesse Rowan shot him a cold glance, his mood clearly sour.
The rainy weather made him irritable.
“Yo, Mr. Rowan, don’t tell you can’t bear to? I seem to recall, back abroad, Mr. Rowan loved these gas.” The man glanced at Jesse Rowan. “Tsk tsk… claiming you don’t care, but clearly you’re reluctant.”
Back when he was abroad, Jesse Rowan had indeed played these gas quite frequently.
His companions were never permanent—he swapped them out every few days.
Because of that, he never cared much about winning or losing.
But right now, he couldn’t help rembering Joan Harry’s long legs wrapped around his waist.
His mind was flooded with those vivid images.
Jesse Rowan took another ferocious drag on his cigarette, a cold gleam flickering in his eyes.
Joan Harry…
“Set a ti,” Jesse Rowan muttered, smoke billowing as his raspy voice filled the air.
“There we go. That’s more like Mr. Rowan.” The man grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “How about this Saturday? I’ll bring a few of my buddies. Sa rules as always—if you lose, we get to have fun with that woman for a night, however we want.”
“Mm.”
“Great! Let’s bring the party back with a bang now that we’re ho! Mr. Rowan is still as debonair, as dashing as ever!”
Wayland Pierson was clearly thrilled.
The won Jesse Rowan had brought along before—they’d played with a few of them, and each one was exceptional.
This one… would probably be no different.
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