Page 51 of Pawn

“You do fuck him a lot, yeah.” Isaac takes the bottle, grabbing a sip of his own. “You guys fight like husband and wife and fuck like rabbits. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were in love.” Grabbing the bottle back, I take another long glug, keeping it by my lips. Isaac looks over at me before he sits up, failing.

“No shit, Jo.” He laughs, falling back into the cushion. “You love King?”

“Why is everyone so surprised? You just said if you didn’t know any better you’d say we were.”

“Yeah, but I was shooting the shit.” He’s still laughing so I nudge him with my knee. He hardly moves. “Well, go back there.”

“What? Why?”

“Something tells me whatever it is you’re fighting over isn’t worth spending the night with me instead of him. As much as he’s being a prick right now, in his defense, taking over a business isn’t easy. Especially not Sebastien’s.”

Isaac makes sense, albeit in a very slurry way. He’s right, I’ve been craving Damien’s arms all day.

Slumping down the sofa, my head hits the backrest. “I don’t wanna lose myself.”

“Hey, tell him that. Not me.” When did Isaac get so insightful? Whatever he’s on, I should take some. “If Marion was still alive, I’d spend every fucking moment with her.”

Shit. “I’m sorry.” Glancing at his face, he looks like that said little boy again. “And I’m sorry about how everything went down.”

“I know, Jo.” He lifts his glass. “You’re one of the good ones. Crazy, but good.” Shaking my head I take it before he lifts his glass. “To Marion?”

I can’t believe I’m toasting to the woman who almost killed me. Who almost killed the guy I love. But I guess it’s been that kind of day. “To Marion.”

After a couple of hours of de-stressing with Isaac, and sobering up, I order another Uber. On Damien’s card, of course.

There’s no other car in the driveway when I arrive. I’ve only been gone an hour so Damien still has time for his dinner and I’ll play. I only want the best for Damien and The Grove, but there has to be compromise. I get what I want too.

It’s silent when I’m back inside and I can only imagine how angry he is about me ditching him on a big business night. Time to face the music. Or the devil in this case.

“Damien?” My boots squeak against the shiny marble, the mess Isaac and I made much more apparent now that I’ve left and come back. Funny how that happens.

He’s not in the living room or the kitchen, so I make my way upstairs. “Damien?” Most of the lights are off when I move by the office to go to his room. That’s when I hear the familiar tinkle of ice in a glass.

“Damien?” When I poke my head through the open door, a hand pulls me in, the door slamming behind me when he backs me against it.

“You came back.” His breath smells like whiskey and pot. Looks like the devil I love is back. He’s replaced his suit with a white v-neck. Grey joggers. And like it’s early in the morning, his boner presses between my legs.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that but—”

He presses his lips against mine and while I thought I was in for one of his sadistic games, I get instant relief instead.

“You’re not mad?” I ask.

He brings his kisses around my eyes to my cheeks before his warm tongue slides to my ear. “I’m glad you came back,” he says, his voice husky. If this is how he is when I’m gone, I should leave more often. “You’re still mine and you know it. Do you know what that does to me, Rowland?” He hoists my leg up to his side so he can press harder against me, his bulge rubbing right against my clit. “Do you wanna feel what it does to me?”

I can already feel the dampness between my legs, my voice a breathy sigh, “You’re not mad.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna punish you.” He lets my leg down, leading me over to the desk. With one last kiss, he pulls my shirt over my head before the tingling feel of his cold hands on my waist makes my nipples pucker. “I need you to play by my rules, Rowland.”

“We n-need to compromise.” It’s hard to speak with his hands cupping my breasts, my nipples pinched between his fingers sending jolts of pleasure flowing through me.

“I’m listening,” he growls, leaving me to stand naked in his dad’s old office. “But as long as I’m listening, I’m doing what I want.” He lights the candles sitting on the window ledge before he dims the lights. All the while, he keeps his eyes on me.

“That doesn’t sound like a compromise.”

“Trust me,” he says, his tongue landing between his teeth.

A click of a button plays some old Nine Inch Nails and I’m reminded this is his office now. His domain.

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