Page 24 of Graveyards & Greed

I straightened. “If we ever do ‘start fucking’ as you so romantically put it, if you sink your dick anywhere else for those one or two days it’ll take to ‘get out of each other’s systems,’ I won’t touch your partner, I’ll hurtyouinstead.”

The flirty fucker winked at me. “Deal, and we should start today. Have you ever played strip chess?”

I blinked. “Strip chess? Is that your way of trying to get me naked without buying me dinner first? There’s no such game.”

Drakos grinned, his blue eyes glinting. “Just because you’ve never played it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Chess is a game of strategy and conquest. But it would be better if we had more skin in the game, so to speak.”

“That was a horrible pun. What are the rules of this made-up game?”

“Simple. Every time one of us captures a piece, the other person takes off an article of clothing. If you lose the match, you’ll live with me for a month, and we’ll fuck like rabbits. It’s alright if you choose that prize too,” he grinned.

Images of Drakos and me having sex for a month made my heart pound and heat race through my system. I’d die a slow and painful death before I admitted it, but there was another reason I called him Satan or Lucifer. The man tempted me like the devil, and I’d orgasmed to fantasies of him countless times since the night we met.

I cleared my throat and leaned forward. “This sounds like a distraction technique for people who think they can’t win. And there’s no way I’m playing strip chess in my grandfather’s office.”

“Then let’s take this to my loft. Again, unless you’re worried you’ll lose.”

Ezra had once compared my competitive streak to the Grand Canyon. It was deep, wide, and miles long. I glared over at Drakos, even as heat roiled in my belly. “Fine, we can add some spice to the game. Just don't whine when you lose. We can play in my apartment.” His devious smile made my thighs clench.

A few minutes later, he put the chess set down on the kitchen table and looked around my apartment. It had been built onto the mortuary in the 1970s, and the style fit the mid-century modern design of the main building.

We’d made the apartment our own with whimsical, comfortable furniture and a few old pictures of early Las Vegas on the walls. Even with Luna temporarily gone, books and reading materials sat strewn across the coffee table. I loved our space, but I wondered what Drakos thought.

“This is charming.” Carl, our three-legged black and white cat, came down the hall. He meowed loudly at Drakos, who studied the cat skeptically. “He sounds like a dying blender. Let me guess, his name is Tripod.”

“Nope.”

“Tri-paw?”

“Hell, no.”

Drakos squatted next to the cat. “How about Trident?”

“He’s a cat, not a fish or a fork. His name is Carl.”

His eyebrow went up. “Who names their cat Carl?” He reached a finger out and absently scratched behind the feline’s ear. The contrary cat purred like a lawn mower and rubbed against Drakos’s hand.

“Don’t start feeling special. He likes everyone,” I lied.

Drakos scratched the cat for a few seconds, then stood. He glanced around, then rubbed his hands together as his eyes swept over me. “Your boots make your legs and ass look even more fuckable—which I frankly didn’t think was possible. But I assume you’re also wearing socks, and you have jewelry and a belt on.”

“Why the hell are you cataloging my… Ah, you’re trying to determine how many chess pieces you’ll have to capture to get me naked.” I shook my head in fake wonder. “You’re always not surprising me.”

He smirked and started setting up the board again. “Let's lay out some ground rules. Do you want time controls?”

“How about a limit of two minutes per move for the first hour, then one minute after that?”

“Works for me.”

I started setting up the white pieces again. “If I win, I get to boss you around for a week, and the same goes for you.”

“It’s one month, and so we’re clear, I will be fucking you frequently and often. Don’t worry, you’ll be begging for my cock after the first day.”

“Don’t be an ass,” I hissed. He seemed so sure of himself that a sliver of doubt wormed its way through me. “Your modesty underwhelms me. One week, because we’d probably kill each other after a month. Don’t worry, I’ll let you go to work.”

He grinned. “One week, and you don’t get to argue. You can still go to work too, but you move in with me for seven full days,you sleep in my bed, and we fuck on as many surfaces and as many times as I can physically manage.”

My breathing sped up, and my nipples pebbled. The thought of spending a week living in his loft without guilt or worry sounded… intriguing.

---