Page 74 of The Gambler's Prize
“Okay, flower?” he says.
I open my eyes. He’s looking down at me, pupils blown wide, a look of pure bliss on his face. My stoical, immoveable boss. Maybe not so immoveable anymore. He looks like theearthjust moved for him. A mammoth feeling of achievement brings a huge grin to my face.
“Of course I’m okay.” I run my tongue around my tender lips. “Told you I could do it myself.”
“You did. Not too much for you?”
“Never, Boss.”
I’m still kneeling in front of him and a large part of me doesn’t ever want to get up. I’m torn, because there’s something I’d really like to do to him.
“Is the servant allowed to make a suggestion?” I ask, super meek.
He puts his head on one side, considering. “Maybe. What is it?”
“Can I top you?”
He smiles like a wolf. “As long as I keep you tied up and in that little apron.”
My cock throbs its interest as I picture it.
“See, great ideas like that are the reason you’re the boss and I’m just the servant,” I say.
He chuckles. Holds out a hand and pulls me to my feet, pulls me close, kisses my forehead. He stares at me for a full thirty seconds. Sweat beads in the thick dark hair on his chest, on his forehead which I can see properly now without the hood.
“What?” I say, though his gaze doesn’t make me self-conscious. Just seen.
“You have very pretty eyes,” he says.
“So do you.” I shoot it back breezily. He looks surprised. But it’s true. I love those flecks of russet and chestnut among the mahogany brown. I love the mix of warmth and heat in his eyes when he looks at me.
“What? Am I the first person who ever dared to call you pretty?” I tease.
“To be honest, yes,” he says.
He hoists me into his arms, my hands still tied.
“Boss?” I say softly, cradled against his chest.
“Yes, flower?”
“I’m yours now, aren’t I?”
“You are,” he answers at once.
“And are you going to keep me forever?”
His breath catches in his chest. “If you want me to,” he whispers, and though physically he has all the power here, his voice is tiny with hope.
“I do.”
He carries me upstairs, strong and casual enough to even steal a kiss as he strides up the staircase with me in his arms. He sets me down in his bedroom and then rummages inside the nightstand to find a bottle of oil. Excitement flickers through my body and my cock gets even harder. He unties my hands, but only for a moment. He directs me to lie on my back. He gets busy tying my hands to the headboard and fresh arousal rushes through me as his strong fingers brush my wrists and the silk once again tightens around me, imprisoning me in his little kingdom.
“I love how you look tied up,” he says. “All helpless and desperate for my touch.”
I strain my neck for a kiss. My apron has ridden up again, my balls and hard cock sneaking out of the flimsy garment. My every emotion, every surge of desire, is clear to my boss. He directs a gloating look at the evidence of my sluttiness.
“Ready for me?” he says, as if it isn’t obvious.
