Page 71 of The Gambler's Prize
He pulls me close, big hands warm and strong on my lower back. His tongue slides into my mouth and I taste myself on his lips, surrender with a moan, forgetting words, forgetting guilt, forgetting how to think. He’s forgotten himself too, forgotten that he told me not to touch. I don’t plan on reminding him. Our bodies writhe and clash, and I pull him so close, and he tries to pull me even closer.
“Now I’m going to leave my mark on you,” he says. “Is that okay?
I nod, too turned on to speak. He sucks hard on the side of my neck, then dips down to mark my stomach, my side, myhip bone. Covering me, filling the spaces between my scars with signs of his love. All the time his breath gets more jagged and his hands rougher, like they're claiming me. He runs his hot tongue over my cheekbone. I freeze, body held in ecstatic tension. It’s animalistic. He’s licking my face and it should be weird, but instead it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever felt. His dark eyes blaze, enraged-looking, his passion so fierce it looks like anger. Like he’s shed that iron self-control for me as well as the hood.
“I won you,” he says, fisting his hands in my hair.
It takes a moment to realize what he’s talking about. His grunts are animalistic, hard to understand. He must mean my contract of servitude that he tore up. We’re going to play that it’s still valid? I can get behind that.
“You won me fair and square,” I breathe. I can’t move an inch in his grip. “I’m all yours.”
He huffs into my neck, sucking and nibbling at me. Being the sole focus of his concentration, I feel like I’m under a blazing spotlight. It feels like being on the stage, my dream I never got to realize.
“Mine,” he grunts, sounding like a bear.
He makes me feel like a tiny, helpless human in the hands of a powerful beast. My subby heart soars. This is perfect. This is what I’ve always wanted but been too afraid to ask for. Even with all my experience I’ve never felt like this. Because I never trusted anyone this much before.
“Yes.Yes. Take me,” I beg. “Please.”
One hand stays in my hair, holding me captive. The other creeps all the way down my spine, raising goosebumps, and then it gets even better. His finger starts to tease at my ass crack and his other hand grabs the bottle of oil. I press back on his hand, begging him to enter. My hole is hungry, craving for him. His fingers felt good earlier but now I need more. I need to be filled by that cock that’s swelling to intimidating size. His prep is asintense as his stare as he stretches me. His oiled fingers claim my body, going deeper, and he laughs roughly as my movements get more desperate. My pleasure makes me like a ragdoll in his hands. He seems to like it when I flail, helpless. His other hand still holds my hair, which I need because my knees are getting weak now.
“I’m ready. Now. Please,” I breathe.
I burn for a moment as he eases inside, a sharp momentary sting at my hole which gives way to pleasure. I breathe deep. He pulls at my hair and kisses the back of my neck, his leg thrown over me, moving slow inside me, giving me time to relax for him. We stay locked together, both holding our breaths. Our first time since we came clean to each other. Now there are no secrets, our history laid bare, and we still want each other. It feels like a new start. He draws his thick shaft all the way out, teasing and torturing every step of the way, loving my imploring whimpers, leaving me quivering with need. Then he thrusts deep and fills me right up until I gasp.
“More,” I breathe.
He thrusts into me. Again and again, until I forget everything but the feeling of him taking me. He pauses, adjusting until he hits the spot that makes my body sing with pleasure. Then keeps on hitting it, driving me feral. My hands grab at the sofa, desperate, clawing with need. Sweat pools on my forehead and my hair hangs over my eyes and the noises ripped from my lips are so filthy I would blush except for the fact that I know my boss wants me to let go. Wants me to feel this completely, to the core of my being. I must look and sound like a creature who’s abandoned reason. The wilder I act, the tighter he holds me and the harder he pumps into me, kissing the back of my shoulders with fierce devotion. I think about me, an aristocrat, being taken hard by an ex-prisoner, following all of his orders and letting him control my every nerve, and I moan deep and low.
“How does it feel?” he says.
“Fucking amazing, Boss.”
“For me, too.”
He’s not lying. He’s hard as iron inside me, pulsating. Still, he puts me first. Before he lets himself finish, he finishes me off. It just takes him wrapping his fighter's fist around my throbbing, leaking cock. A spasm of pleasure wracks my whole body as I come hard, prostate throbbing in time. Grimes’ climax follows fast. His hands tense on my body and I feel his wetness inside me, hear a low breathy grunt that marks his orgasm. As quiet and Grimes-like as I’d expect. The two of us are like a chain reaction. Our pleasure intertwined, dependent on each other after hating each other so long. As the pleasure settles and my body lapses into light-headed satisfaction, I wonder if fate has a sense of humor.
Chapter 30
Florian
Next morning, and I have big plans. I creep out of bed without waking Grimes and sneak back to my old bedroom. I already think of his room as “our room” now. My plan is daring. But I have all the courage I need. The way he looked at me last night makes me feel like the biggest prize in the world. I dig to the bottom of my wardrobe, searching for something very special. Finally I find the delicate slip of white fabric, lacyand decadent. My maid’s apron. I swiped it from a fancy hotel years ago. I always wanted to wear it for someone, but despite everything I’ve done in the bedroom, I’ve never had the nerve to wear this for anyone. Until now. I only just managed to hide it from Grimes when he made me pack up my things at the boarding house, standing over me like some angry watchdog. I would’ve been disgraced if he’d seen it back then.
But now… I think he’ll like it now.
I pull on the apron. The slinky fabric slides easily over my bare skin, raising shivers of pleasure. I love how it makes me feel sensual and naughty at once. It’s soft and delicate and more importantly tiny, barely covering me. I look at myself in the mirror, craning my neck to see. My butt cheeks are exposed with a little white bow tied prettily above them. I attach a couple of white lacy cuffs to my wrists to complete the look. I wriggle my hips, giggling at my own boldness. I can’t wait for Grimes to see me like this.
There’s no shame in dressing like this for him. Now he knows how submissive I am, and he loves it. When I follow his orders he looks at me with a mix of awe and lust. It’s ironic that I can be myself with a coachman, who’s essentially a servant. What would my father think if he knew of my desires, and especially the fact that I’m letting a “social inferior” boss me around? He’d disown me... completely this time. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, come to think of it.
No one expects an aristocrat to be submissive. They expect us to take charge of every room, effortlessly commanding and cool due to our social status. But I feel so safe and happy when Grimes takes control. Serving him gives me a sense of purpose. I love it when he asks me to do something and I do it well and his face breaks into a big, warm smile of praise. I can’t get enough of his praise. It even made mind-numbingly boring tasks like digging foundations worthwhile.
I skip downstairs to get started on breakfast, frying some bacon, which he can never resist. Sure enough, the scent brings him downstairs within minutes. He’s wearing trousers but bare-chested and still barefoot, sleepy and yawning. His eyes go straight for me at the sink. Hell, his eyes go straight for me every time he comes into a room now. It makes me feel like the center of the universe. This time he does a double take as he clocks the apron and lacy cuffs.
“Florian?” he blinks again, like I might disappear. “You look… you look...”
“You like it?”
He swallows hard. “You could say that.”
