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He sealed his mouth over mine and eased me down on his plush mattress and downy comforter, moving me up until we were at the headboard. His hands firmly gripped my thighs, spreading them wide enough that I could feel the muscles stretch.
“Say yes. Tell me your mine.”
My heart felt like a caged butterfly. If I said no, I’d lose him. I could feel it.
But what would be so different about our relationship if I said yes?
I would get to be close to my mood stabilizer. It brought me closer to my overall goal. Wasn’t that reason enough?
“I’m yours,” I nearly whispered, hoping I wasn’t making another massive mistake.
He was pushing inside me on my next breath. A ragged moan reverberated from my chest, feeling the pleasurable burn that came with his thick cock sliding inside me.
“Oh, god,” I breathed, as he fed my pussy more and more of him inch by inch until I was filled to capacity. I happily accepted the pain that came with it.
He loomed over me with his muscular forearms braced on either side of my head. “Tell me you want me.” He thrust forward, pushing his cock into an erogenous zone.
“I want you, just you.” I nearly pleaded as he began rocking in and out of me. I hadn’t expected this from him. I thought he’d be fast and hard. This was rough, yet soft and languid.
“Fuck, your pussy is so tight, Elena.” My name rolled off his tongue, and he picked his momentum up. I grabbed his firm ass pulling him into me as deep as I could. Unabashed moans filled the air. I could hear him sliding in and out, feel the slickness dripping from me and coating his dick and balls. I relished in how good we felt together.
He captured my lower lip and bit down, increasing the pace of his thrusts. I wrapped my legs around his waist, angling my hips. The orgasm hit me forcefully and unexpectedly.
My moans sounded like breathy sobs as I buried my face in his neck, arching into him and repeating his name like a chant.
He dropped his forehead to mine, fucking me harder, letting out a small groan, stilling as his cock twitched and he came inside me.
Slowly, he pulled away and positioned himself on his back. I dropped my hand and traced a pattern over his tattoo once I caught my breath.
“What does this mean?”
“It’s from a myth. Old Money Roulette. It was a game of sorts. Think of a deck of cards. How many are inside?”
“Twenty?” I guessed, wondering where he was going with this.
“Twenty-four, but close enough. In that deck, there are three cards that single-handedly trump the others.”
“Oookay,” I drew out, still lost.
“Just like a deck of cards, there’s a ranking system––a hierarchy. Naturally, Old Money is the house you want to be in, and then there’s your queen of diamond, king of hearts, and ace of spades.”
I began to understand somewhat. Something tickled the back of my mind, a memory of my father I couldn’t see clearly that was triggered by the name of his game.
“So what’s the objective?” I asked, now fully intrigued.
“Simple. Make the opposing house fold.”
I side-eyed him and shifted. It wasn’t some huge secret that New Money would be the weakest of the houses–which was precisely what my family was.
“And how do they go about this?”
“Seduction, mind-games, murder, manipulation,” he shrugged, taking the back of my hand and kissing it. “The queen of diamonds represents you. Beautiful and powerful on her own,” he continued. “Unsure of what she can do.”
“But still not the strongest in the deck, hierarchy, whatever,” I finished.
“See, you’ll be a natural in no time,” he said..
“A natural?” I questioned with more than a little amusement.
