Page 72 of Knights Game

My hands still grip his hair, when I do something that surprises me, I drop to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I think it’s fairly self-explanatory?” The tiles are uncomfortable on my knees, but as soon as I’m eye level to his huge pulsing cock any coherent thought falls out of my head.

I lean back, my eyes meeting his, and bite my lip. Wrapping my hand around his shaft I grip it, squeezing gently.

“Fuck.”

“You don’t have to push me to my knees.”

I don’t let him respond, instead I take him in my mouth. Sucking him cock so deep it hits my gag reflex, I choke on his girth as it restricts my throat.

“Oh, Jesus.” Luca moans.

I hollow my cheeks, and take him deeply in and out once, twice, three times, before the gagging gets too uncomfortable, and I pull him back out. Taking a deep breath through my nose, my eyes watering, I swallow. Peering up under my lashes to appreciate the moment of watching the magnificent Luca Knight lose control.

“I’ll go to them willingly,” I say, my eyes meeting his.

I take him again, gripping his tight arse in my hands and pulling him to me at the pace I want. This is going to be a killer on my gag reflex, but at this moment, I want the control.

I want to feel like I could make this man fall to his knees.

I want to fuel myself with the pain of my life.

I know that even as tears stream down my face and my throat constricts, fighting against the onslaught of his thrusts. I know that as I suck his cock, and he fucks my mouth over and over again, I know that at that moment, he’s not in control.

I am.

And I will bring Luca Knight to his knees.

I turn around and take a moment to look at the full-length mirror. Luca dressed in one of the other rooms, giving me free rein of the master suite to “faff.” And that’s what I’ve been doing.

Faffing.

Nerves and excitement are making me antsy.

It took me a while to pluck up the courage to peek inside the dress bag that was miraculously hanging on the dressing room door, along with shoe boxes, and other bits and pieces.

Even tit tape.

Roman bought me tit tape.

Who would have thought it?

The dress on its hanger looked simple, elegant, and classic. But now that I’ve got it on, I can appreciate the black sheer material that covers the top, with intricate lace detailing that runs from the main skirt over my breasts to the shoulders and down my arms. Hiding everything that should be hidden under beautiful lace, including my neck, which will be under the high collar.

It fits beautifully, the dress accentuating my curves. I don’t recognise myself; I’m standing in the huge expanse of a multimillion-pound penthouse apartment, the burnt orange sunset of London long gone, replaced with the twinkling of lights starting to come on in the surrounding landscape.

And I look…breathtaking.

My hair is pinned back in a messy low bun, tendrils of blond falling around my face. My makeup, which has been applied by someone who arrived an hour ago, and has since left, has made my eyes stand out by applying greys and black, making the blue sparkle when the light hits them. My fair skin has soft highlighter accenting my cheeks and blusher to give myself some colour. My lips are cherry red.

There’s a knock on the door and I turn around to be greeted by Luca.

A very attractive looking Luca.

“Jesus,” I say.

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