Chapter 9 #2
But why? In whose interest was it to drag this random guy into debt, when he couldn’t possibly ever repay such a large sum? There was no point in doing that, unless one wanted him hurt by the lender.
Which is how Dalton ended up in the basement of the mansion, and if it wasn’t for the messages on his Grindr account he’d be… nothing.
He wouldn’t exist anymore.
“Do you have enemies?” I ask, sliding off my slippers to rest my feet on the ledge stabilizing the table.
He frowns as he’s thinking, so transparent it’s baffling that he says he’s good at poker. I didn’t even need to prod him to tell me the whole story.
“I don’t think so. There’s the odd ex who might be unhappy things didn’t work out, or some guy I beat up when I still did cage fighting, but there’s no one in particular I have beef with. I mean, my landlord hates my guts, but right back at him.”
He’s offering me so much information on a silver platter I struggle to connect it all into a concise picture of Dalton. I can’t help my mind being stuck on “ex”. I want every ex of his dead.
“Well, that’s definitely something to explore. Normally, no one would offer you such a big loan without checking your finances first,” I assure him, licking the sauce off my fork as Dalton wolfs down the last of his chicken. He is so voracious.
I hope that’s how badly he’ll want to consume me once the drug kicks in.
“In any case, you are now technically debt-free, but is gambling something you do frequently, or was that a one-off?”
He smirks and grabs a piece of bread out of the little basket between us to get all the sauce off his plate. “Why? Are you worried I’ll gamble away my husband’s fortune?”
He winks at me, which is cute in its smugness, I have to give him that. He’s my prisoner, and yet already he’s playful. I have to admire that.
“I will be giving you an allowance in the future, and if you ever borrow money from someone else again, I will see that as cheating,” I tell him with a straight face and have some more wine.
Dalton cocks his head and mirrors my gesture, gobbling down half a glass in one go. Savage. But good for me, as alcohol will amplify the effect of the aphrodisiac.
“You’re… for real? You want to marry?” Is he red from the warm food or blushing at the idea? Either way, I want to lick him.
“Why wouldn’t I? You are handsome, we’re a match in bed.
What else could I want?” I ask, because now that my family knows, there’s no reason to make my life unnecessarily complicated.
We will get to know each other now, and unless it turns out his personality is repulsive, having him seems like the perfect solution to my long-standing issues.
A man of my own.
In my house.
And everyone knows.
I lick my lips and swallow, getting excited at the thought of Dalton being here, whenever I want. Of finally getting to explore my needs for real, and having an outlet for them.
Something I’ve craved all along but didn’t want to face.
His smile widens, and he grabs the tiramisu I placed between us, but then also passes me mine. “Weird way to propose, but okay.” His pupils are a bit dilated when he looks at me. Is the drug kicking in, or is he just happy to be here? “I’m guessing we’re getting a prenup?”
He’s adorable.
I laugh, leaning back in my chair and finishing the wine in my glass. “Oh, we are not getting divorced. Ever,” I tell him with a wide grin.
“But what if either of us—”
“No, if you become my husband, I will not be letting you go.”
Is it an unhinged thing to say to a man I’ve known two days? Maybe, but we will iron out the wrinkles.
He packs a massive spoonful of tiramisu into his mouth as he watches me with wide eyes, not even blinking.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some kind of forever bachelor who snubs relationships.
I’ve actually wanted one. No, this works, this really works.
How about you? Any deadly Mafia exes in the wings that I should be aware of?
” As he asks, he nudges my foot with his under the table.
So much for denying me dick.
I’ve won.
“Ah, no one you should be concerned about. I only dated people from outside… my work circles,” I tell him, but while this isn’t a lie, I’m not planning on opening up about my past. The last thing I need is him knowing my vulnerabilities, so he could exploit them once our bond inevitably grows.
And he is definitely not finding out that I’ve never had anyone I’d call a boyfriend, or that no one before him got to top me.
I’ll make sure that he’s happy, and we will surely enjoy our time together, because why the hell wouldn’t we? He might not be the kind of man I’d happily see at my mother’s side, but he is what I want.
But since knowledge is power, I do want to know everything about him, so I ask, “How about you? Are you out?” I couldn’t exactly work that out from his Grindr messages.
He laughs and nudges me again, getting that sultry look in his eyes, his neck reddening.
“Oh yeah. You know, I did wrestling from an early age, and… well, I worked out pretty quickly that I’m gay.
Can’t say my dad was happy about it when he found out, but since I was not good at hiding, I just went with it, and since I was big, nobody dared fuck with me.
Lots of guys wanted to wrestle me after hours, if you know what I mean?
” Dalton opens a button at his collar. “Is it hot in here? I still have a bit of a thing for those wrestling costumes.”
I imagine him in one, wrestling me down to a mat, and suddenly I’m into them too.
“Maybe a bit,” I lie and pop two buttons of my shirt, revealing a bit of my chest. Pride swells inside me when he notices, and the heat of his gaze scorches my flesh.
This is what dreams are made of.
He desires me. And while, right now, he is under the influence of a drug, his body didn’t lie to me when we fucked that first time. I’m just breaking his resolve faster than it would have done on its own.
“So… what happened? How did you find out you liked men? Did you get hard for another wrestler?” I whisper as my own body responds to the fantasy woven in my head. When I move my foot over the floor and touch his, the electric shock gives me a shiver.
Unless he has the willpower of a medieval monk, we will be fucking in a matter of minutes, whether he knows it or not.
“God yes…” Dalton mumbles, eating his tiramisu even faster, as if he needs to demolish it before he’s ready to admit that he’s hard for me.
Because he most likely is by now. If I reached under the table, would I find his erection wetting his pants with pre-cum already?
“Once I was more aware of what to do, I got so horny with another guy I just ripped the back of his singlet, and drilled right in, because it turned out he got himself ready before coming to wrestle me. I guess I had a reputation. I held him in a lock and pinned him to the mat with my dick until I pumped his ass full of my cum.”
Dalton’s so flushed that if he wasn’t hard before, he surely is now. I bet he forgot he denied me his dick yesterday. I can’t keep myself from smirking as I move my foot up the side of his calf, and he whimpers, eyes zeroing in on me immediately. They’re so dark now, so very lusty.
“Oh, to be that other wrestler…”
Dalton bites his lip and slides his hand under the table where he grips my foot. Even his fingers are hot. “Come to think of it, he looked a bit like you. Just the way I like. Strong, handsome, pretty lips…”
I’m still in control, but he is trying to wrestle it from me with each word whispered in that warm, husky voice, with each stroke of his hand up my leg.
I’m about to burn alive, and I’ll walk into the flames with my arms open.
“My lips? What do you like most about them?” I ask, attempting to keep the fever out of my voice.
It’s power play. I could make a move, and he’d probably fold, but since it’s him who wanted to deny me his dick, he needs to be the one to offer. I may be cheating, but there’s no rules in love and war.
Dalton reaches over the table, all too close to the half-melted candle, and his thick thumb brushes my lip. “You had… a bit of cream there,” he says, but once he wipes what’s likely not even there, he slides his finger under my top lip.
Now I’m hard too.
And as I open my mouth ever so slightly, he pushes his way in. The touch of his rough fingertip on my tongue almost makes me whimper, but I need to remain in control of this game, so instead of just yielding, I meet his gaze and gently press my tongue to the digit.
It’s all on offer, Dalton. Just say the word, break the spell, and get your dick sucked.
He gets up, opening the buttons of his shirt, and the tent in his pants couldn’t be more obvious. He’s panting, all his attention on me, and he circles the table like a lion approaching prey, but he has no idea I’m the one luring him into snares.
Dalton strokes my face, crotch level with my mouth. “Want to finish what we started in the cabin…?” His eyes are filled with so much lust I want to drizzle it over my tiramisu and eat it.
Yes.
Fuck, yes.
“Since I served you dinner, it’s only appropriate that you’re the one to offer me my dessert,” I rasp, voice almost too quiet, but his lips quiver when he hears me.
He can’t open his pants fast enough, and since I didn’t get him any, he’s not wearing underwear. His dick is out in all its swollen glory, rigid, pointing at me and desperate to be sucked.
“All yours,” Dalton rasps and pulls my face against it with a groan filled with need only I can satisfy. It slides along my cheekbone, leaving behind the sticky musk of pre-cum, and I greedily close my hand around the base while the other slides up those firm, hairy abs.
Is this heaven? Because it sure feels like it.