Page 26 of Gambler's Conceit
“Yeah, and if the dealer decides to check whether I’m allowed to even be at the table, I’m kicked out for real. Just be glad we earned a few hundred bucks.” I stop to look at Seven again. His lips are kiss-bruised and he’s scowling, but he’s fucking hot.
I grab his chin and kiss him again, pulling his body flush against mine.
He makes a surprised sound, but he’s quick to wrap his arms around me and kiss back. He even nibbles at my bottom lip, tongue swiping over it, before he murmurs, “Got a room?”
I laugh darkly, thinking about the basement room at my stepfather’s house. “Nah. But the bathrooms here are pretty nice. Or do you need a real bed?”
“I’m easy,” Seven says, deadpan.
“Great.” I grab his wrist, squeezing tight, and hurry him to the closest restroom. Roi de Pique doesn’t skimp on the cleaning staff, and the stalls have floor to ceiling doors. Seven takes a quick look around, but I drag him into the farthest stall and shove him in hard.
Shit, I should be gentler—but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s just encouraging me.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” I growl, shutting the door behind me and crowding him. “Grinding against me for the entire fucking game.”
“Oops?” Seven mocks, smirking up at me. He’s got the most kissable lips, but at the same time, I can think of better things to do with that mouth. Hell, I can think of better things to do with him.
“I wanna bruise you up,” I murmur, taking his wrists and holding them against the wall. “Make you hurt for days.”
Shit, I need to calm down. I’m supposed to stay in control of myself. This is the same crap my last fuck buddy complained about.
“Yeah?” Seven asks, spreading his legs and making it impossible to think of anything but that lean, willing body of his. “What’s stopping you?”
I take a deep breath. “I fucking mean it. I’ll hurt you. If you’ve got a problem with that?—”
“So hurt me,” Seven says, his eyes molten as he writhes against me, not trying to pull away like I would’ve expected after my confession. “Fuck me. Bruise me. I want it.”
Fucking hell. I surge against him, gripping his wrists tighter and driving my thigh between his legs. He squirms but doesn’t try to break away, grinding his clothed cock against my thigh with a moan.
“Harder,” Seven tells me breathlessly. “Don’t be a pussy, Havoc. Or are you just trying to get me back for teasing you before?”
I bite his lip, bruising it harder, before I force him to turn around and press against the stall door. I grab his jeans and pull them down as far as I can. A few casino chips clatter onto the tiled floor. His ass?—
His ass already has bruises from an obvious spanking. The marks are healing, but whoever did this spanked him hard.
I groan and press my fingers into the dark spots.
“Fuck, you weren’t kidding about your daddy giving you a spanking,” I say. “Was it bad?”
“Mm,” Seven hums, shoving against my hands. “No. It was good. If you’d helped me, he might’ve let you stay to watch.”
“You like that?” I ask, dragging his shirt up so I can drag my nails across his skin. The red lines I leave across his back make my cock throb. “You want everybody to see what a slut you are?”
Seven laughs, though there’s a dark edge to the sound. “Yeah. I want everyone to know I’m a fucking slut.”
I reach down and undo my belt and fly, then pull out my hardening cock. A few strokes and I’m fully erect, ready to plow into him.
“Or maybe you just want the punishment,” I growl, biting the nape of his neck. “You want the pain. You want to feel something fucking real.”
His answering moan is the only reply he gives me, but it’s enough. I spread his ass cheeks with my other hand, staring at his hungry little hole for a beat before I spit onto it.
“I don’t have lube,” I warn him, rubbing the head of my cock against it.
“I don’t need it,” he gets out, his voice high with pain and adrenaline. He pushes his ass back against me, his hole hot and needy.
My head grows fuzzy with desire, and I almost push into him immediately—until another unwanted thought occurs to me.
“Wait,” I say, half whining. I bite his neck again. “I don’t have a condom.”