Page 36 of Ruthless Rebel

When I bring my gaze back to Lincoln, he is watching me intensely. “Are you going to toss me over your shoulder, and remind me who I belong to?” I ask, all too aware of the audience we have, and I’m not talking about Marcus and Elle.

“No,” Lincoln utters quietly, picking up a cue, as Marcus resets the table for a new game. “You already know exactly who you belong to.”

With my cock instantly hard, I move to make myself a drink, winking at Asher as he watches me carefully, before heading back over the table to play.

Marcus and Elle take the first game, and she wipes the floor with him, then I take her on, and she does the same to me, yet as Lincoln sets up the table for his turn, his brother comes along and swipes his partner.

“Baby, if you bend over this table onemore time I am going to fucking explode,” Marcus grunts, pulling her ass into him and rubbing his very obvious erection across it, not caring that we are all watching.

“River,” she scolds playfully, her cheeks staining with a deep blush, and she turns and slaps his chest, but he captures her hand and pulls her in for a blistering kiss. When he pulls back they are both breathless, but when she smiles I know he’s got her. “Sorry, Superman, rain check,” she squeals out, as Marcus picks her up and wraps her legs around his waist.

“Sorry boys, but it seems I need to hear my wife scream my name,” he gleams, stalking towards the door.

“Marcus!” She exclaims in complete embarrassment, before she adds, “And I’m not your wife yet.”

Marcus only laughs, “Then maybe I need to hear you scream until youaremy wife.” And with that they are gone, the door slamming closed behind them and leaving Lincoln, Asher, and me alone.

“If I bend over the table again, are you going to explode?” I ask, turning towards Lincoln, who is flicking his gaze between me and Ash, as if he has realized the same thing I have.

“Let’s play and find out,” he replies smoothly, keeping one eye on Ash, as he finishes setting up for a new game, before grabbing himself a drink.

When Ash doesn’t move, I reach for a cue and dust it off with some blue chalk. “Well, let’s make it interesting then, shall we?” I ask, rounding the table so I can have both of them in clear sight.

Lincoln watches me carefully over the rim of his whiskey, no doubt savoring the burn he enjoys so much at the back of his throat. Only once he is done, does he respond, “Enlighten me.”

I smile that cocky grin of mine that I know he loves so much. “If I win,” I start, feeling the excitement and delight burning through my entire body. “Then I get to fuck you,” I add, blowing the excess chalk off the end of my cue and letting my words linger in the air.

Lincoln’s face remains completely neutral, as I let my stare dance over towards where Asher still resides on the sofa. I expect him to move, anticipating that my words would force his departure, but he remains still on the sofa, looking completely at ease. In fact, the only sign of tension are his white knuckles gripping the bottle between his fist.Interesting.

When I return my gaze back to Lincoln, he doesn’t look affected in the slightest. “And if I win?” He responds in a calm tone, and my smirk only grows.

I slowly make my way around the table, until there isn’t an inch of distance between Linc and I, drinking in the sight of him, as Ash watches us closely.

“If you win, then you bend me over this table and fuck me.”

17

LINCOLN

Logan’s words hang in the air like a noose ready to choke us all, yet instead of carnage, outrage, wrath or death, there is nothing but pure tension-filled silence. Logan leans with his palm flat against the felt of the table, as if I need the visual of where I get to fuck him if I win, but my focus lies with Asher. He hasn’t moved, not an inch, as if Logan’s words have rendered him completely immobile. Yet that’s not what has my attention, it’s his words from the flight, the story he told of his past and sexual experience. The things he endured that he probably hasn’t even let himself admit or truly feel. He was forced to fuck and somehow hates himself for it, and despite Logan and I pushing his boundaries, I know he knows that we would never take it too far.

You’d have to be naive to believe anyone could ever control or force Asher Donovan to do anything he doesn’t want to do again. So, why isn’t he leaving? Why haven’t Logan’s taunts and playful demands sent him running back to his room?

I flick my gaze back to Lo and I see him watching him with curiosity too, like he is also wondering why he hasn’t left, and once again I think back to what he told me on the plane. Did he tell me that because he felt like he had to, because I kept asking questions? Or did he tell me that because he needed me to know and understand, and keep pushing his boundaries anyway? My eyes take Asher in again, and it’s only now that I realize it isn’t tension radiating off him, it’s desperation, and it fuels me like nothing ever has before.

“Game on,” I purr, trailing my stare across them both, before I bend down and line up my first shot.

My cue crashes into the white ball, sending it spiraling into the others as they spread out rapidly across the table, two of them finding a place in the corner pocket and picking my choice of balls for me. Logan curses beside me, realizing I am quite comfortable with a cue in my hand. I guess I forgot to tell him about the foster home that had a pool table out back. Jace and I played on that thing for hours almost daily when we were fifteen, before our cocks took our attention and led us elsewhere.

I manage to pot a third ball, before Logan steps in to take his first turn, and the game is pretty evenly matched, his skill not far from my own. One thing I have learned over the years however, is that rich boys never play dirty. They think their money is enough to grant them everything they need, but when you grow up with nothing, you learn the only way to get anything is to take it.

When he lines up to take another shot, I slip off my suit jacket and begin rolling up my sleeves, my stare holding his. I let the lust and anticipation of fucking him ignite me, and I know the second he sees it because he falters, and misses the ball he was aiming for.

“I should have known you liked to play dirty.” His voice has that dark edge to it that only comes out when he is turned on, and I can’t help but smirk as I stalk around the table slowly toward him.

“I thought you already knew exactly how dirty I liked it,” I muse, my hand closing around his throat and pulling him in slowly untilhis lips are pressed against my own. He moans into my mouth, allowing me to slip my tongue against his until I can feel his erection pressing against my own, and only then do I release him. “Seems when I win this game, I’ll have to remind you.” I bend down, sinking another ball, much to his dismay, and when I look back to Ash, his eyes are burning into us.

He still hasn’t moved, not an inch, that now half full bottle still gripped in his fist like if he lets it go, this whole thing will fall apart. Fuck. He really wants this, and for the first time ever, I let myself truly want it too.

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