I snatch my cards up carefully and hold them close to my face. He’s as confident as ever, giving me an extra item of clothing. ‘There is nothing reasonable about bargaining for the power in our relationship.’ I glance down at my cards, seeing two sevens. ‘I’ll twist.’
He slides a card over to me, maintaining his grin. ‘It’s all part of our normal, lady. There you go.’
‘Thank you.’ I reply politely, pulling my card from the floor and placing it with my others. It’s an eight. I dramatically huff and toss them between us. ‘Bust.’ I grumble.
He smiles and turns his own cards over, revealing a Jack and a nine. ‘I think I’ll stick.’ he muses. ‘You lose.’ I shake my head as I watch him put the cards down and slowly crawl towards me, his eyes burning into mine with rapt intention. My heartbeat is quickening at the sight of his prowling frame nearing, and when he’s up close, he slowly raises his hands to the back of my neck. ‘Let’s lose the dress.’ he whispers, pulling the straps free of the knot. ‘Up you get.’
I force myself to stand when all I want to do is collapse onto my back and let him take me right now. He can keep the power. I don’t want it. Ever. I watch with lust filled eyes as he grasps the hem of my dress and lifts it up over my head, standing as he rises and chucking it onto the couch when it’s separated from my body.
Leaning into my ear, he bites my lobe. ‘Lace.’ he murmurs, blowing a soft stream of hot air onto my skin. I tense, despite my best efforts not to, and just like that, he leaves me standing like a built up bag of desire and resumes position on his arse. ‘Sit.’
I close my eyes and collect my senses. I need to be strong because this really is a game to him. I sit back down in my lace and like the complete temptress that I am, I spread my legs wide and lean back on my hands. If he’s going to play games, then so am I. ‘Deal again, Lord.’
The knowing smile that creeps across his handsome face indicates his awareness. His temptress is living up to her reputation. He deals the cards, I cautiously look, and then immediately declare my intention to stick. He nods thoughtfully and turns his own cards over. He has a nine and a Queen. ‘Stick.’ He looks at me, and I grin, chucking my two Kings down cockily before making my way over on my hands and knees.
I straddle his thighs and take the hem of his t-shirt. ‘Lose the t-shirt.’ I whisper, pulling it up. He lifts his arms willingly, and I throw it behind him, sighing and leaning in to kiss his chest. ‘Hmmm, hard.’ I grind myself into his lap wickedly, instigating a sharp intake of breath from him, but then I remove myself from his lap and resume my position across the rug. ‘Deal.’
It’s quite obvious he’s fighting the urge to tackle me to the rug. I can tell from the discreet adjusting of his groin area and the vicious biting of his lip. He’s really concentrating, and I’m really loving it. The view is improving with each hand I win, too. Just one more, and he’s mine, power and all.
He deals again, and I sweep my cards up, quickly calculating a total of fourteen. ‘Twist, please.’ I gesture for him to pass a card. A two. Totaclass="underline" sixteen. Crap, I really don’t know what to do now. ‘Stick. No twist!’ He goes to pass me another card on a smile. ‘No! No, I’ll stick.’ I wave away the card, and his smile turns into a grin.
‘Indecisive?’ he asks, taking his leaning body back upright, putting way too much emphasis on that chest.
I blink back my peeping eyes, determined not to lose my concentration. I’m not being distracted, but it’s hellish resisting the urge to steal a look. Or even just gawp at it. ‘No, I’m sticking.’ I affirm snootily.
‘Okay,’ He’s desperately fighting a smile as he turns his cards over. ‘Hmmm, sixteen.’ he muses. ‘What to do?’
I shrug. ‘Your call.’ I don’t reinforce his words from our trial run. I’m dying to, but I don’t. I want to see how Mr Amazing at everything plays this one.
‘I’ll twist.’ he says, turning a card over.
I don’t know how, but I manage to keep a straight face when he reveals a six. ‘Oh dear.’ I whisper, taking my eyes from his cards, up his torso, his neck, and then onto his lovely face. ‘You risked it.’ I chuck my cards at him—the ones that collectively total sixteen. ‘I didn’t. Lose the shorts.’
He examines my cards on a faint curve of his lips, shaking his head. ‘You beat me, baby.’
‘I have the power.’ I start crawling my way over to him, not wanting to delay getting my hands on him. That was the longest card game ever. ‘How do you feel about that?’ I un-zip the fly of his shorts.
He doesn’t try to stop me. He pushes his back into the couch to raise his butt so I can negotiate them down his thighs. With the revealing of his arousal, I struggle to contain myself.
‘I’ll ask you the same question.’ he rumbles, low, throatily and with one hundred per cent sex in his tone.
‘I feel powerful.’ I throw his shorts over his head and take the pack of cards from his hand, placing them neatly to one side.
He reaches forward and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, dragging it, his lips parting his eyes flicking to mine. ‘What has my little temptress got planned?’
I should push his hand away, but I don’t. ‘She’s going to surrender the power.’ I whisper, placing my hands on his thighs and reaching up until we’re touching noses. ‘What does my God say to that?’
He smiles, that glorious smile. ‘Your God says his temptress has learnt well.’ His big hands curl around my wrists and pull my hands up to rest on his shoulders. ‘Your God says his temptress won’t regret surrendering to him.’ His lips press to mine, and his tongue takes a slow sweep through my mouth. ‘But this God and his temptress both know how our normal relationship works.’ He cups me over my lace knickers and rests his forehead on mine. ‘And it works perfectly.’
I go rigid, but bear down on his palm to get some friction. ‘You’re perfect.’ My lips find his and my hands automatically seek out his hair. I’m yanking at it again. I just can’t help it.
‘I know.’ he mumbles around my demanding lips, sliding his hands around my waist and onto my bum. ‘I thought you surrendered the power.’
I couldn’t stop if my life depended on it, and I’m mentally praying on all things holy that he doesn’t stamp his authority because I’m desperate, craving, needing. ‘Please don’t stop me.’ I’m completely unashamed, still driving my tongue into his mouth.
He groans, pulling me into him and showing no sign of halting this. He’s letting me have my way with him. ‘You know I can’t say no to you.’
‘Yes, you can.’ I argue between firm, deep lashes of my tongue, although I’m stupid to remind him of this right now. He often says no, when I’m tired or if he’s really trampling me.
‘Not now.’ He’s standing with me wrapped around him, and I don’t even know it’s happened. I’m too consumed, but when the cool night air attacks my bare back, I’m pulling myself into his body, holding tighter and kissing harder. My brain isn’t given any space to think about where we’re going. I don’t care.
The rushing sound of the night waves gently lapping at the shore line is the first thing I hear. Then I smell the salty essence of the Mediterranean. There’s a chill in the air, but the warmth of his body fit snuggly to mine eliminates any discomfort. I’m burning up, and I don’t think even the Antarctic would cool me off. The wooden sleepers are taken with care as he carries me down to the sea’s edge, but he doesn’t take me into the water. He kneels and places me down on the soft, damp sand, ensuring our lips remain locked the entire time. My hands are wandering all over his muscular frame, my legs are writhing beneath him, and I’m fast losing my breath, my laboured breathing not helped when a gentle wave gushes up and breaks around my sprawled body, surrounding me in a shallow puddle of cool, salty sea water. My shocked, quiet yelp isn’t containable, my fingernails dig into his biceps and my back arches to try and escape the freshness, my lace covered breasts pushing into his bare chest. My burnt up state has instantly cooled.