Page 77 of The Gambler's Prize
“Lucky for you your boss isn’t that cruel,” he whispers. His dark eyes burn into mine. A drop of sweat falls from his chin onto my chest. “Lucky for you that your boss wants you to come inside him and fill him up. I’m going to drain every drop from you because you’re mine.”
“L-lucky for me,” I breathe.
Sweet torment swirls inside me, building toward a crescendo. He gets back to work, riding me hard and fast. His breath gets shorter and shorter. A look of ecstasy appears on his rocky face; I’m hitting his spot. I close my eyes and let the sensation take me. I think about how my boss is using my body just the way I wanted. Using my slutty cock to bring himself to that level of pleasure. How my own pleasure is up to him. Whether I’m even allowed to come is up to him.
Pressure builds. It gets overwhelming, and then my balls draw up and my release is like a cacophony and I realize I’mscreaming his name as I come. A spasm of pleasure shudders through my body like a summer storm. The “cruel” edging was a stroke of genius by my boss, bringing me to a height of release that almost scares me. The orgasm goes on and on and on, waves of joy cascading through every nerve. I’m panting and wondering if I temporarily left the earth as I open my eyes. But no, I’m still tied to the bed. Grimes intense gaze is locked on me, his seed trickling from his huge fist.
“I love you,” he says. His voice is rough from the rough lovemaking but the words ring true.
“I love you too.”
I figure he won’t mind a little rule-breaking with my lines in this case. He smiles, unties me, and pulls me into an embrace.
“Now say thank you for letting you come.”
“Thank you, Boss,” I whisper.
“Good. Now you’re going to stay with me and I’m going to take care of you forever and put your needs before my own,” he says. Each word is ground out at the edge of his breath, as though he barelyhasbreath anymore.
His eyes are glassy and he looks almost out of it. I must have wrecked him as much as he wrecked me. Even so, I can’t let him say things like that. Things like always putting me first.
“Boss, that—”
“Florian,” he says. “Enough.”
I snuggle into his chest. “Yes, Boss.”
He cleans us both up, then places the blankets over me like I can do nothing for myself, which is half-accurate because I’ve never felt quite so post-coital before, limbs so relaxed and heavy I can barely move. He gets into bed beside me and spoons me from behind, curling around me like a conch shell. His warm breath tickles my hair. I don’t want to move a muscle to disrupt the balance between us. I don’t want to leave his side. For the first time in my life, I have a home.
Chapter 31
Grimes
“Morning, Boss.”
I’m ready for Florian’s sun-bright greeting this morning. I turn over and smile at him, holding out my arm so he can snuggle into the crook of my shoulder. He settles there, content, as I nuzzle his hair with my nose. He’s still calling me Boss. We should probably talk about that. He’s getting more submissive all the time, the more he trusts me, as though hisdesires are unfurling for me like petals in the sun. He just needed the right environment, for his needs to be nurtured. Liked when sudden rains fall on the dormantkiveseeds of the Galbravan desert, and the little red flowers spring into life from the dead dust.
Maybe he wants to experience the loving authority he never found in his family. Or maybe it’s just his nature, the way he feels freest and most himself. I need to be careful in discussing it. He’s so fragile and bashful about these things, strangely for someone with so much experience. It makes me feel protective of his emotions, like I’m holding a tiny bird’s egg in my hand. When he told me he would even forego his own pleasure and go unsatisfied if I asked him to, it stunned me for a moment. It seemed so at odds with his reputation as a careless playboy, always putting himself first. But of course I’ve known for some time that the image I had of him when we first met was only an illusion. Now I know the real Florian. Giving me so much control over him in that moment felt like a weight of responsibility that I can’t deserve. Yet he trusted me with it, and it makes me want to dedicate myself to bringing him as much joy as he can handle.
I never thought I’d enjoy being so dominant, calling all the shots in the bedroom, giving orders, even having my lover call me by an honorific likeBoss. I thought it would feel too much like being an aristocrat. The class I always resented back in Rhennes for their unthinking power, their expectation of blind obedience, their privilege. But it doesn’t feel like that at all with Florian. Not when his submission is freely given. Not when it makes him feel so safe and loved. He’s free to rescind it any time. I didn’t ask for it; he offered it like something rare and fragile. And I treasure it.
“So… I notice you’re still calling me Boss,” I say softly.
“Uh-huh,” he answers, his voice disappearing into my shoulder. “Is… that okay?”
“Of course.” I stroke his hair, feeling him relax at my touch.
There’s a long silence. I wait.
“Maybe you think it’s weird,” he says. “I know you’re not really my boss anymore. But it’s just… I don’t know. It’s hot.” He whispers the last work like he’s afraid I’ll recoil.
“It’s hot for me too,” I say.
His arm tightens around me. “It’s not just that. It’s like… when you won me in that bet, obviously I was mad about it. I didn’t want to beforcedto work for you. But when I saw how much my help meant to you, and the foundations for the gym were progressing so fast, that felt good.” He takes a breath and snuggles closer. “When you tell me to do something and I do it well and you’re proud of me, it makes me feel useful and needed. Like I can actually do something.”
I never thought of that. In my mind, aristocrats imagine honest labor to be beneath them. I never spent a moment imagining they might sometimes feel inadequate because of their lives of luxury.
“And that’s an unusual feeling for you?” I ask gently. “Being useful?”
