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The bastard is so arrogant and self-assured, he knew there was no way I’d beat him. That’s why he chose chess.
Knight probably plays the damn game all the time. That’s why it’s here, set up in his office, ready to be played.
Knight played me, played on my desperation to be heard, and played on my hopes.
“You lost. I won,” he reminds me, his voice rising higher with every syllable spoken. “So, now I get to pickanythingfrom you.”
I stare at him for a few seconds, mentally adding this moment to the ever-growing list of worst mistakes I’ve ever made in my life.
“This isn’t fair.” My voice is as frail as shattered glass. “You knew I’d lose.”
He raises his hand, opens his palm, and shakes his head. The expression on his face softens, feigning innocence. But I can see straight through his bullshit.
“I knew no such thing.” He observes me through lowered lashes.
“Yes, you did.”
“Pray do tell. Tell me how I’d know you’d lose, Mon Cherie? Am I psychic, now?” He dips his head, and a lock of his hair falls over his eye. “For all I know you could have been some chess wiz in high school.”
He knows I wasn’t anything of the sort. Also, this argument is fruitless and stupid. He set me up.
“Regardless…” The wanton look in his eyes is a sign that I’m about to see more of the real him. “I won, so now I want my prize.”
I stifle an enraged growl and summon my last drop of courage, preparing myself to hear his prize. I just hate that I know, whateveritis, will only be something to further humiliate me. That is all Knight Grayson has ever done since I’ve met him. It would be unbecoming of him to prove me wrong.
“Okay. What do you want from me?”
He puts out his cigar in the ashtray. I watch the smoke wither and wane, along with the embers on the butt of the cigar.
Dark lust sneaks into his eyes when he looks at me, and he sets his shoulders back as if gearing up for something. Me. My retaliation.
“I want you to suck my cock, naked. Then I want you to ride my face so I can feast on your pussy until you come.”
My insides turn to stone, becoming no different from the lifeless sculptures in his workshop.
I gasp and push to my feet, my legs feeling like they’re barely beneath me.
He can’t be serious. But he is.
The devilish look on his face that could command the host of Hell tells me that he is.
And those words …
Damn it, they’re not that much different from what my characters said to each other in the last chapter ofGirl No.9. But that was fantasy.Fiction. This is very real. He’s real, too, and damnme…the sudden ache between my thighs and beading moisture in my core serve as a reminder of what this man does to me.
The look on his face deepens, wrapping around me like invisible threads of arousal, and I know if I do what he requests, it will push me further down the rabbit hole. It might even be near impossible to climb back out.
I can’t do that to myself.
“No.” My voice echoes in my chest like another heartbeat.
A grin so scandalous it could make the headline of every tabloid slides across his sensual lips. “Sorry, Goddess, that appears to be the wrong answer. I seem to remember you promising meanything.” His tone is colder than ice but melts my insides like boiling lava. “I would have been bound to consider your mother’s designs if you’d won, so you can’t suddenly backpedal because you don’t like my request. Then again, youaregiving me that fuck-me look again, so maybe you do like it.”
My eyes snap wide, and something I don’t want to acknowledge sparks in my chest. Regret. Longing.Truth?
“No. You are such an asshole.” The tremble in my voice makes me sound weaker. “You—”
“If I remember correctly,” he starts talking over me, “term fifteen of ourlegallybinding contract, which we both signed, states you agree to do whatever I request of you while in the pursuit of the activities listed in the terms and conditions. This is what I want. I want you.”
