Page 20 of The Gambler's Prize
Is there a grin on his face? Hard to tell from this angle, past the hood. Maybe.
“Oh, I’m thinking about it,” I say.
My cock firms starts to firm, enjoying being ordered around as much as I do, starts to press against my tight breeches. Boss looks over at me. His eyes rake over my erection and he scowls.
“Florian, when I look at you next,thatbetter be gone.”
He nods in the general direction of my crotch. Shit. I don’t think he’s being playful. He’s really pissed. I assume he means the hard-on should be gone, not the entire goods. But still.
“Did I really misread you earlier?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, and turns his back on me.
So this is a real punishment? Not for fun. I’m so deflated and embarrassed, it doesn’t take long for the evidence of my dirty thoughts to disappear
“Better,” Boss grunts, his eyes flitting over the front of my breeches.
“So I guess you want me to start work?” I say sulkily.
“Not yet. Just sit there and be quiet.”
So I watch him dig. Every so often he looks over at me to check I haven’t moved. This is ridiculous… and boring. I’m not used to sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing. Finally he comes over and looms over me.
“I’ve been punished enough,” I say plaintively.
“Punished? You’ve been sitting here in the shade while I’ve been working. You can’t even keep quiet for ten minutes without throwing a tantrum?” He wipes his sweaty face with his sleeve.
I lapse into silence. Of course I can stay quiet for ten minutes. It’s not the silence that bothers me, it’s the knowledge that Grimes is angry at me, his rage simmering away in his head and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. It brings me right back to my father’s house, his endless sulks, never knowing what he was thinking, but knowing it was something bad aboutme. Wondering what would be the outcome when he finally emerged from his morose mood. Being locked in my room, or subjected to a long lecture about my many faults, or both.
Grimes lets out a sigh. “All right. On your feet and start digging," he says.
“Just a moment. I need to warm up.”
I stretch my hands way up over my head. Then I turn over onto my belly, place my hands flat on the ground and stretch out my spine luxuriously.
“Now what the hell are you doing?” Grimes demands.
“Stretching exercises. I don’t want to pull something by starting to dig right after my cruel boss made me sit still for so long.”
“Florian, it was ten minutes,” he says.
I grin up at him. Now I know he’s nottoomad, I feel like playing with him again.
“Really? Felt like longer,” I say. “Anyway, we should be warming up every day before we start work. I’ve been meaning to mention it.”
This much is true. He should look after that powerhouse body of his. It deserves to be treated with more respect.
He glares down at me, hands on his hips. “It really is impossible to put you down, isn’t it?”
“Yep.” I move into another pose, feeling the stretch all the way down my spine and the backs of my legs. “This feels great. You should join me.”
“I don’t need stretching exercises,” he scoffs.
So he says, even as his gaze follows my movements with hunger. Apparently even annoyed with me, he can’t help noticing my ass. I can’t figure him out. When I made a move, he jumped back like I bit him. But now, his desire is obvious. Why does he keep fighting it? Maybe he doesn’t believe in messing around with servants. Or maybe it’s his dislike of me that holds him back.
“Just give them a try,” I coax. “Big muscles are great, but there’s a lot to recommend flexibility too.” I put a little extra arch into my back, sticking my butt out more.
“Flexibility,” he repeats, sounding a bit dazed.
