Page 53 of The Gambler's Prize
The trust in his voice steals the laugh from my throat.
“You wouldn’t like it?” I ask.
He shakes his head, eyes downcast.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I think my hatred is fading to mere dislike.”
I re-arrange his hair around his head on the pillow. I kiss down the column of his throat, feeling his breath catch and shorten, not with fear like when I found him panicking earlier but with tremulous pleasure. I run my lips over the scars on his torso. I never suspected that a spoiled rich boy like him might have scars. Parts of himself he hides from the world. I thought he was so confident, but there was so much beneath the surface that I didn’t see.
“Undress for me,” I say.
He smiles and I know he’s going to take his time, give me a show. He holds my gaze as he pulls the fabric of his trousers down over each hip bone in turn, but he keeps the goods covered until the last moment. Purposefully making me impatient for the unveiling. The legendary cock of Lord Florian Southland. I’ve felt it rubbed hard against me, felt my effect, caught hidden glimpses in the dark, but never seen everything in the light of day. When he finally shows me, he’s much bigger than I expected and swelling fast. I wrap a fist around his shaft. He moans and tries to thrust into my hand.
“Nope. Hands and knees,” I say.
He’s barely breathing as he obeys. I lose my cloak, then the rest of my clothes. Then I just look down at my prize. His dark hair falls either side of his neck. I track my gaze all the way down the pale skin of his back, the V of his waist. He’s so fucking beautiful it breaks my heart. And he’s giving himself to me. Even after everything I’ve done to him.
I draw a fingertip along his spine, soft and slow. He shivers, pressing back against me. My hatred leaks from me in dark waves as I look at the trust in his posture. Is this the man who ruined my life? I can’t think of him like that. Not when he’s waiting for me like this. He brushes back against me, fleeting, the tiny touch enough to send a spiral of heat into me like a backdraft of an inferno.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” I say.
“You used to want to. I could see it in your eyes.”
I can’t answer. Thank the stars he isn’t looking at me right now.
“So what changed?” he says.
I press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “You ask too many questions, Florian.”
I run my finger along his ass crack. That’s the end of Florian the interrogator. He keens a deep moan. With my other hand I scrabble in my bedside table for a bottle of oil. His breath catches as he hears me unstop the bottle. I oil up my finger and ease inside him, gentle as I promised, feeling his intake of breath as I breach him for the first time. Some part of my mind still wonders what the hell I’m doing. But that part is buried under so many layers of desire, it’s barely perceptible. Easy to ignore. I sneak my other hand around to play with his nipples, feeling them stiffen up. He responds to me, breathing hard, squirming like fire flows through his veins.
“How does that feel?” I whisper.
“Mmmmm.” A delicious moan. “Good, Boss. So good.”
He should probably call me Grimes. Boss seems formal when I’m knuckle-deep. Formal, but insanely hot.
I don’t correct him.
I explore deeper, twisting my finger, adding another—bringing more moans. His cock starts to throb, precum slick at the head. I squeeze his shaft hard.
“No, Florian. You’re going to come when I’m inside you.”
“Youareinside me,” he whines.
“Not until my cock is inside you.”
“When’s that going to be?”
“When I fucking say so, my little servant.”
He groans. “Sadist.”
I turn him over, sit him up. “You won’t say that in a few moments.”
He raises an eyebrow, trying to play cool, but his precum leaking all over us and his excited breaths betray him. “You’re very confident.”
“I am.”
