Page 9 of To Curse A Knight

Sweat beaded my brow, my whole body on fire.

“For this, you cunt. I’m twenty moves ahead of yeh, and knew you couldn’t resist a–a”

I jolted forward as his cock threatened to break me in half, his rutting so frenzied, I was afraid for the sanctity of my asshole for anyone else. I’d gloat about the ability to unravel this man later. For now, I needed to just. Fucking. Come.

His hand reached around and stroked my cock in time with his thrusts, and fuck me, I was going to come—finally come—I—“FUCK!” I cried out when he pulled away again in the nick of fucking time. “Just FUCK ME, you wanker!”

He resumed his thrusting, harder and faster, rubbing my cock, massaging my balls, bringing me right to the edge again, and pulling away, over and over, until I had almost come 47 times.

I whimpered and writhed, now completely at his mercy. Fuck, I needed to come. I needed to come, I needed to—

“Why are you here?”

His thrusts were slow, torturous, and easy now. His hands stroked down my back in a sensual massage as he soothed my aching form. He had to need to come by now, too. What was bloody wrong with him?

I wasn’t in my right mind anymore, every brain cell glazed with drugging desire and the raging need to feel his cum flood my asshole. Every cell in my body was completely on fire.

Fuck me. Just fuck me, dammit.

His pace increased by a thousand. I couldn’t handle another edging—another disappointment. If he didn’t let me explode right now, I was going to dive into a pit of absolute madness.

I was there—right there—my balls drawing upward and my spine tingling with electricity. Tears sat at the edge of my eyelids as I inwardly begged for my redemption.

Swallowing hard, I gave him a tidbit—something I hadn’t planned on giving up, but I needed to get my happy ending, or I would die on this bed from sexual dissatisfaction.

I was already caught in their snare, anyway. One piece of information wouldn’t destroy everything I was working towards.

Please, let me come.

“He killed my sister.”

Kellan made no acknowledgment of the admission. Instead, his thrusting became that of a man possessed, driving me into the bed with such force I knew I wouldn’t be able to sit down in the morning. Or ever.

Worth it.

With a deep-throated cry, the sticky jets of my cum shot all over my stomach and the comforter as he let out a bear-like growl from deep in his chest.

I collapsed into the sheets, shoulders on fire from the handcuffs, and buried my face into a puddle of my own tears. The euphoria of my release turned my whole body into a shaking, spasming mess.

He’d won this round—I had never planned to give him a damned thing. But I’d won, too—there’s no way Kellan-the-controlled-Cartel-king had planned on losing his mind with me tonight.

So now I knew for sure; the man had a weakness for cocky Irishmen. And you’d bet I was bloody going to use that power to my advantage.

Tomorrow.

The last thing I remembered was a warm cloth over my backside and a blanket pulled over my lifeless form before I fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Touché, Conan. Touché.

If you cheat, may you cheat death.

The proverb danced around in my mind as I entered the red double doors to Club 7.

The long hallways of dark velvet and dim lighting no longer offered me the warm, familiar comfort I had felt since I was sixteen. Club 7 had once been my haven; the palace in which I held court.

Walking through it now, it felt more like a dungeon of my demise; the thick carpeting and soothing music suffocating reminders of the empire I would soon lay toruin.

In my thirty-five years, I had become many shades of gray to rule this world as if I owned its bounty. Profiting off humanity’s most basic desires was an easy leash to hold; a simple product to sell.

---