All the King’s Horses (Grandmaster’s Duology #1)

Chapter 1

His fingertips are like icicles.

Pressing against my bare skin, they shock every fiber of my body awake with senses I wasn’t expecting immediately. Stunned by the sudden contact, a harsh breath escapes my mouth with a loud gasp. He presses his front up against mine, making me aware of everything he has to offer, egging me into a wanton submission that I only allow at this moment.

I haven't gathered the nerve to touch him– Technically, I shouldn’t because it would be breaking the rules of our unspoken game. However, I can feel the stiff muscles beneath his clothing that seem to be accentuated currently. It’s as if the more I deny myself, the more they come towards me, beckoning me. I crave the urge to give in but resist.

His actions fog my brain more than usual, and I love it.

There's something tantalizing about what we’re doing. While I do my best not to succumb to my instincts, these slight actions have my insides churning anxiously. It causes my innermost feminine parts to pulse with a need– A yearning. Crying out from the merest whispers of his breath that are making me ache beyond anything I’ve ever allowed from him.

Maybe it was the time that we spent apart.

With gentle expertise, he leads me backward to the wall blindly, where I let him lift me off my feet and onto the thin console table. A rough knock against the wall echoes through the apartment as I scoot back, permitting him access to move in closer. Immediately, he does. The hard bulge that presses against me makes a pulsating feeling vibrate through my center.

It hadn't been more than five minutes since we'd gotten off the elevator, and the instant we entered the house, he’d pounced on me like prey. The entire night, he’d made comments and hints of how sexy I was, how much he’d missed me, and that I had kept him waiting. He’d made it clear how the night would end, and I couldn’t dispute it. To add intensity to the situation, I would excite him with little touches and caresses, then pull away, teasing him to a point I knew would drive him almost crazy, then retract and become aloof and distant.

Trapping him in my cat-and-mouse game by empowering him with the belief that he’s the cat.

Engulfed at the moment at hand, his quick, rough kisses that play over my neck make my breath catch in my throat, and the warmth that has settled in my stomach spreads to my privates like wildfire.

He's like an addiction. I want him– Need him.

In a feeble attempt to maintain minimal contact, I lean my head back against the wall, close my eyes, and allow his mouth to wander to my cleavage. I'm not sure what game we are playing or how we got here, but I know I've lost the instant I touch him with my hands.

And I won’t lose.

With stealth, his hands work their way up my mini dress and tease the front of my thong that's wet with proof of my excitement. His lips return to mine, and I can't hold back the moan that escapes when he plunges his fingers into me without warning, my thong still a barrier between us.

This feels so good, and though we just fucked a few hours ago after his shift ended, I'm still ready for another round or two.

His tongue flicks over my bottom lip, and I open my mouth, aware of what he wants. As he teases and tastes me, his tongue consuming my mouth, I revel in the intoxicating taste of bourbon that resonates on his tongue, begging him for more while I keep my hands still.

"You're a stubborn little one, aren't you?" He questions. His breath is hot against my lips as he traces them with his tongue. I take his bottom lip between my teeth gently and suck it for a second instead of responding, relishing in his groan of pleasure.

My chuckle dies on my lips and falls into a loud moan when he pulls the front of my thong aside and pushes the same two fingers into me roughly before he pulls them out. Adeptly, he removes them entirely, taking my thong off before I realize it, and plunges the digits back inside me. The console table hits the wall repeatedly from the force of his finger fucking that rock me back with each thrust.

I can't get enough.

Each thrust takes me higher. Each moan I emit pushes me closer to crashing down into the depths of an orgasm I’m forcefully withholding.

Fuck.

I want to touch him. To guide his fingers into me and watch the passion that takes over his face as I come on his fingers. Instead, I bite my lip and place my right foot on the table to give him better access.

This game is going to be the death of me.

Thrust after thrust, he strokes inside me, and I come closer to the edge of release. The heat of his front is pressed against me, and the heat ignites every part of me that begs for release. Gingerly, he pulls the thin spaghetti strap of my dress down to release one of my breasts. His mouth, hot and wet, covers my breast, taking my nipple that hardened from the brisk air into his mouth.

Sensation takes over me. The rhythmic tapping of the table against the wall, coupled with his fingers and mouth, sends me into a spiraled fit. My head falls back, my chest arches forward, my nipple still being suckled, and I surrender with a controlled scream.

As I come down from my euphoric high, panting like an animal that needs water, our eyes meet, speaking words our mouths don’t. I smile as a hard moan escapes me, and my insides clench around his fingers.

He grins at me like the Cheshire cat. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

When I don't answer, he thrusts upwards inside me roughly, his palm crashing against my clit, and I almost crumble. "Fuck, I hate you," I whisper.

I’m still unable to touch him. Though I came, he still hasn't.

I watch intently as he withdraws his fingers. His thumb strokes my clit, warming my insides again in an agonizing way. My freshly manicured hands dig into the table when I realize he’s not finished.

Why is he torturing me? I can't even pull his hands away to make him stop.

My body shudders under the pressure he applies. My legs tighten over his hand, and my thighs beg him to pull away.

He leans in. "You can give up."

His breath is warm against my ears, his tone husky. In response, I turn my head to look at him. My body convulses as though I’m having a seizure, and I come a second time, crying out against his skin. To stop from touching, I kiss him. The soft, breathy pecks instantly turn into hot, passionate kisses that vibrate throughout the hallway. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, and I welcome the distraction.

Finally, his hand moves from between my thighs, leaving the space that it had previously filled empty. His hands draw my knees apart, and he positions himself between my legs. It takes only a second before he enters me. This time, his shaft fills me, stretching me more.

A cry escapes my mouth on his lips, and when I pull away to breathe, his right hand turns me back to face him. He holds my face captive between his pointer and thumb, my scent that still coats his fingers, enveloping the air around us. We stare at each other as the tapping of the console table against the wall begins again, mesmerized by our fucking.

He's so fucking beautiful and primal.

I lick the side of his neck, tasting the sweat that has started to bud there, then kiss the same spot. My legs instinctively wrap around his back, and my feet push his pants down.

His hand moves to my throat, his fingers clasp around it, choking me lightly. "Come for me." He pants. “Take this cock.”

The words are my undoing. As he drives into me hard, my head hits the wall, and my insides shatter. I come in another convulsing fit.

My breath is strained and harsh, my body damp with perspiration, and my pussy still wet and yearning for more.

I open my eyes to see he’s staring at me in an adoring way. He kisses me. "You win." Casually, his fingers that were inside me trace the rim of my lips before he places them in my mouth, and I suck, tasting myself on him.

****

Soft, sensual kisses wake me.

Still in a sleepy daze that could overtake and lull me back to a time I loved, I roll from my stomach to my side to be greeted by the sight of Blaine, who is wide awake.

Briefly startled, I sigh. "Blaine." His gray eyes respond to my greeting, making him look like a lost puppy. I hate the emotions I see in them.

"Gorgeous." He leans in to kiss my neck. "How'd you sleep?" He trails the same kisses that woke me down my clothed front, each one searing me to my core until I roll on my back and give him better access in my sleepiness.

Against the pillows, I shrug. I force myself to wake up fully. To say the words that he won’t like. “You need to leave. You shouldn’t have stayed.”

My voice croaks.

He lifts his head and looks at me in question. I already know what’s coming. “Really, Echo? This shit, again?”

A distant part of me wants to console and reassure him that it's not him. It’s me.

But we both already know that.

It’s always been me.

I close myself off. “You stayed too long.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I started to leave after you fell asleep, but then you seemed to be having a bad dream. So, I stayed. You stopped crying the instant I held you.”

Fuck.

For a moment, I can’t meet his knowing stare. When I finally do, my mind is made up. “It’s over, Blaine,”

I tell him coldly.

We knew that this was coming. He knew from the start that I was only in this for sex and that I didn’t want any attachment. He knew that we could never be more, and he overstepped. I should’ve seen this coming. There were hints. Sure, they were subtle, but they were definitely there.

Why did they always overstep?

For the longest time, a silence stretches between us. I throw my legs over the side of my bed and stand. My oversized bedtime shirt that falls to the top of my thighs covers what most don’t see. I bend over and start to gather Blaine’s clothes for him.

I have no one to blame but myself. I got sloppy and careless. If I had kept him at a distance like I knew I should have, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now. I wouldn’t be ending the one extraordinary fuck I had lined up for the past three months. Instead, I had let my lapse of judgment take over, allowing myself to become accustomed to being with one person only.

Blaine stares at me, a mixture of hurt and anger marring his beautiful features as I place his clothes in his arms. “You’re ending this because I stayed over?”

I look over my shoulder at the sun peeking through the darkness. “You know the rules, Blaine. No spendi–”

“Yeah,”

he interrupts me, “no spending the night. No dates. No attachments. No questions. It’s just- I thought we might have been past that.”

I’ve heard this before. Next, he’ll tell me that we had something special.

Had being the keyword.

“I thought you wanted more, Ec’.”

His eyes beg me to admit that I feel something for him. And I would be wrong to deny that I do. But it’s not what he would want to hear.

I look Blaine square in the eyes. “You thought wrong, Blaine. This has only ever been sex for me.”

He rolls his eyes. I watch as he tosses his clothes to the side on the bed and starts to get dressed. “No, I didn’t.”

He pulls his pants up, piercing eyes staring at me. “You feel something for me, whether you want to admit it.”

His shirt is next. “We went on a fuckin’ date last night.”

I shake my head. “We have rules for a reason.”

“We?”

Blaine swears under his breath. “Who is we? You and me?”

Fully clothed aside from his shoes, he steps towards me, and I look up at him. His eyes plead with me to take this conversation back, and I know if I told him to forget it, he would. He would give in to my every whim and desire. He would justify my wayward attitude with some excuse that he’d keep to himself.

“You’re right. There’s no we.”

I say, looking up at him.

Silence.

Nobody mentions how uncomfortable an awkward silence is or how much it screams in the short time that passes.

“You’re broken, Ec’, and as much as it fuckin’ sucks for me, I’ve accepted that. I’ve let you push me away, and I stand still, just waiting for you. When you call, I come. I let you make the rules, you make the terms, you decide when and where we meet up, and I take it. I’ve never asked any questions. I’ve never asked where all your scars came from, where you disappear for days or weeks. I never ask about your past, what your plans are for the future, or why you don’t have friends.”

Blaine looks around my room. “Hell, I don’t even ask why you are still living out of boxes. I don’t ask you because I don’t care. I just want you.”

His hand reaches out, cupping my cheek, and I lean into it, closing my eyes even though I shouldn’t.

Blaine will always be the closest I get to home and warmth, and I may relish this moment forever. Yet that might have been the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

After I take a second, I open my eyes, retract my cheek from his gentle hold, and steel myself against anything else he has to say. “Blaine, get the fuck out.”