Page 1 of Dangerous Stakes

PROLOGUE

In the dark mists of time, the empire was torn apart by men who valued power over principle. An ancient goddess of courage and honor called upon a great black cat who became a legend to impose order on the war-torn realm. She gifted him with the ability to shift from beast to man and back again.

His descendants inherited not only his ability to shift, but the power inherent and necessary to become great warlords and form a syndicate to restore all that had been lost. But not all those born to the line were destined to lead a clan; some found their destiny lay along a different path.

CHAPTER 1

It had been the ride of a lifetime—as he entered the arena, he’d known Olympic Gold was his to win… or lose. Rory O’Neill, the kid from the wrong side of the tracks in Dublin, had won the Olympic Gold Medal in dressage. His horse, Poseidon, had been nothing short of brilliant. It seemed that all of the stars had lined up to make his fairytale story come true.

Rory was the epitome of what many believed to be the Irish male stereotype – black, wavy hair, dark, soulful brown eyes, a muscular build, permanent stubble, a winning smile, and the gift of gab. Rory had all of those in abundance. Usually seen in his trademark rust breeches and black fishermen’s knit sweater with a knit ski hat on his head, he seemed to care little for what others considered fashionable.

He laughed easily and was considered to be one of the true sex symbols in the international equestrian scene. More than one female commentator had mentioned the fact that the white breeches and cut away tailcoat that was mandated by the rules of international competition in dressage left little to the imagination for lovers of the sport.

He stepped down from the pedestal and headed back to the barns alongside his roommate, Michael.

“So, I guess I’ll be looking for a place to sleep?” Michael asked.

“Aye, son, that was the agreement. Whoever medaled higher got the room to themselves. You do know that was a sucker’s bet. Poseidon was never going to let me down.”

“You’re an arrogant bastard, O’Neill. It’s a wonder you have any friends at all.”

Rory chuckled. “Who needs friends when I have a talented horse with a huge heart, and a Dutch warmblood with big tits and a hot mouth and pussy waiting to see to my needs?”

“How do you get away with fucking a different girl at each competition and not have them all looking to put your head on a spike?”

“I don’t lie to them. I have no time for relationships. Nothing gets in the way of my goals. This medal might be the end all and the be all for some, but for me, it’s just a rung on my ladder to get where I want to be.”

Rory was something of a dissolute playboy, but it was more of a role he played than who he really was. Very few, if any, knew the real Rory O’Neill. Most believed the carefully constructed background of the poor Irish kid, the son of a cop. Very few questioned how he got the quality horses that came to him or where the money came from to support his career. Those who did wonder, feared it was attached to the Irish mob and left the matter alone.

Making his way from the podium in the stadium back to the Olympic Village was an incredible experience. Everyone cheering, wishing him well, wanting to shake his hand, get his autograph, take his picture. Rory tried to drink in every nuance of the experience.

Once he was inside his room, he closed the door and leaned back against it. Pumping his fist in the air, he said, “Damn right.”

He held his medal in his hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it reverently. He had worked most of his life for this moment. He was only sorry none of his parents—father, mother, stepfather—had lived to see it. He sent a prayer of gratitude to them. Without them, he would never have been able to celebrate this accomplishment.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots off before standing, stripping out of his clothes, guzzling down a bottle of water and some ibuprofen and heading into the attached bath. Rory and his roommate, Michael, had managed to snag one of the large bedrooms with a private bath.

Stepping into the shower, he turned on the hot water to a steamy temperature and steady pulse. At first he just stood under the hot water letting it beat down on his muscles, forcing them to relax. Finally, he soaped up and then rinsed off, feeling clean and somewhat refreshed.

He was just emerging from the shower when he heard a quiet knock on the door. He wrapped a towel around his middle and opened it. It was Sofie, the ‘Dutch warmblood.’ She was a nice girl who was attached as a groom to the Dutch team.

“Hello, Rory,” she said in English with only a slight Dutch accent. “I saw your ride today. It was truly extraordinary. That final piaffe was beyond compare.”

“Thank you, darlin’. You’re a bit early, but come on in.” He looked down at the towel that had slipped down to his hips and was rapidly becoming tented. “Let me get dressed, and we can go out for a bite to eat.”

“We could,” she said, walking her fingers down between his sculpted pecs toward his navel. “Or we could just munch on some things I brought with me. I even managed to smuggle a Guinness in for you. I know what I came here for… and it isn’t dinner.”

Sofie giggled as she snatched his towel away and shrugged out of her own clothes. Staring with open admiration at the size of his erection, she licked her lips and dropped to her knees.

Locking her eyes with his, she reached out and stroked his hard length as his foreskin drew back, revealing the head of his cock, with a small drop of precum just waiting for her at the slit. Sofie smiled as she sucked it into her mouth and began to go to work on him.

Rory pushed his cock into her mouth. She could lick to her heart’s content after she’d given him what he wanted. He groaned as she sucked him in and allowed him to pull back, only to thrust back in. Watching his cock appearing and disappearing past her full, pouty lips was an erotic treat.

She licked and swirled her tongue all around him. She moaned and allowed the sound to transfer vibrations all along his length. Sofie seemed to be enjoying giving him the blow job almost as much as he was having her do so. She was experienced and had no trouble deep throating him as he drove to the soft place at the back of her mouth.

When his spine started to tingle and his balls began to draw up, he fisted her hair, dragging her off his cock. “That’s enough, Sofie.”

“But you’re almost ready,” she said petulantly.

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