Chapter Twenty #2
His stomach plummeted. If he told her and he failed, he’d regret it.
He couldn’t play with that kind of pressure sitting on his chest. He’d let her down.
His own pride held him hostage on that front.
If she knew that he was being forced to bet their future on a card game, she would be devastated, heartbroken.
It was cruel, what he had to do to try to win her.
He just couldn’t bear her knowing. Not unless he won.
Then at least he’d have so much more to offer her—their freedom from the Den, escape from her father, a real chance to make the dream they shared come true.
“I can’t tell you. Ask me something else.”
She folded her arms and kneeled. “I don’t want anything else but that. Why can’t I play a part in this if it involves me? It does involve me, doesn’t it?”
“In a way.”
“What does that mean?”
Tristan sighed wearily. This was not how he imagined the night closing after an evening of cards and a brilliant epiphany that gave him blasted hope.
He thought he could wake her with his tongue and maybe they’d continue with other wicked things but not a disagreement and her evident disappointment in him.
“I wish I had something better to offer. I’m trying. That’s all I’m willing to say.”
“And I wish I had some control of my life.”
“Don’t we all? The truth is there is very little we can control in our lives. What we can seems—” He had an idea. “You want to take control?”
“Yes,” she bit out.
He got off the bed, her wary glare following his movements. He took the curtain tassels and returned to the bed, but near the wooden headboard. He bound his wrist with one blue rope and lay down.
“Tie the other.”
“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion.
“I’m giving you full control of me. Tie my other hand and I will be entirely reliant on your mercy.”
“How can you do this?”
“I trust you not to do me bodily harm.”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out. He offered her the other rope.
“This is absurd.”
“Tie me down and then see where this goes. Give it a chance. You might find you like having total control of me.”
She cinched the cord around his wrist and then tied an admirable knot around the bedpost.
“Where did you learn that knot?”
“Now what?” she asked as she knelt beside him.
“Do whatever you want.”
“So I could lay down and fall asleep and leave you like this to be discovered by Matilda?”
“You could, if that is what you wish. It would be even more embarrassing if I were naked.”
She looked over his body, her gaze snagging on his groin. Being tied down and at her mercy might be exciting him more than he anticipated.
“Why don’t I make you tell me what I want to know?”
“Because I’m going to trust that you won’t if I ask you not to. But like this, I can’t stop you. I’m betting you’re not a fan of torture, Flick.”
She put her hand on his thigh and blood surged to his cock.
Please touch me. Believe me.
She reached for the buttons of his trousers and undid them, freeing his cock.
She wiggled his trousers lower, and Tristan lifted his hips to help.
He bit his tongue, not wanting to tell her what to do.
She wanted control, and she could have it.
He wouldn’t let his mind run away with what he wished might happen.
She was, after all, a woman with a scientific mind that leaned toward medicine.
She might take this chance to study him for intellectual purposes.
But he bloody prayed she did not. He wanted her sweet tongue and hot mouth wrapped around his cock.
She could torture him all she wanted like that.
She gripped him with one hand, teasing his bollocks with the other. Tristan bit his tongue, but he couldn’t stop the reflexive thrust of his hips.
Her gaze snapped to his face. “This seems more pleasant for you than me.”
“I can’t help it, love. Just looking at you makes me hard. Now your hands are on me. I’m in heaven.”
“I once heard Fran discussing something with another maid.”
“Oh?”
“It sounded abhorrent.”
His hopes dissipated.
“But now I’m curious. After the way you kiss me, and the way you react when I stroke you . . .”
“Whatever you feel like doing, I promise I will love it.”
She shook her head at him, but her lips twitched with a smile. She bent over him and touched the tip of her tongue to the crown of his cock. He closed his eyes. If he watched her take him inside her mouth, he might combust and end this game before it even started.
She teased him with short, exploratory licks, moving her hands up and down his shaft while he fought against moving his hips. She wrapped her lips around the side of him and a groan caught in his throat, the words for what he wanted fighting to get out, but this was for her, not him.
She licked up the side of him and then, before his held breath gave out, she took his head into her mouth.
“You’re so perfect, love. I love you,” he blurted.
She huffed a breath against him, as she played with the depth of her mouth.
He would not force himself deeper. He had an iron lock on that urge.
He’d let her do what she wanted, and it would always be enough.
He could easily let his desires run rampant with thoughts of spilling on her tongue or her pert pink nipples.
It would take very little for him to climax, but he held back.
She oscillated between licking and sucking on him, massaging his balls, and kissing the ticklish skin around his pelvis. He started to sweat, his muscles locked to keep from moving, when she stopped altogether.
He opened his eyes. She stared at his cock, then, she got to her knees and lifted her nightgown to her waist. A shudder of need overtook him as she straddled his hips, his cock nudging her curls, the tip glistening with her wetness.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“What do I do?” she asked, placing her hands on his lower chest.
“To summarize, you just have to sit. Slowly. Feel your way through it.”
She closed her eyes as she moved herself along his length, teasing the sensitive nub with the blunt head of his cock.
A shivery sigh slipped out of her. She’d coated him in her arousal and when he thought she might change her mind, she straightened and found the right angle to center him at her entrance.
He watched her, half mad with need and concern.
She lowered, her expression switching from curious and wary to wonder as she sank down.
She stopped when she hit friction, adjusting and tilting her hips at different angles until she could lower further.
She sat fully and Tristan held his breath as he waited.
She shifted, then rocked, then leaned over him and found an angle that made her breath catch.
She stayed like that, riding him, taking her pleasure and Tristan was sure at some point he might fall unconscious from holding back his own release, but he’d do it for her.
He couldn’t come inside her. He wouldn’t put her in that situation.
There was always a chance, a slim chance, when he timed his release and pulled out, but he knew his own control.
However, tied down, he couldn’t pull out of her.
He just had to wait and commit to not climaxing at all.
She collapsed against him, writhing her hips, her nails biting into his skin.
“That’s it, love. You’re so beautiful sitting on my cock.”
“Tristan,” she moaned, “I’m falling apart.”
“Ride me, Flick. Take all the pleasure you want from me. I’m yours. Completely yours.”
Her back bowed and she buried her face in his neck. She trembled, grinding her hips against his, moaning, and crying his name until she stilled, her panting breath beating against his neck.
“Love, you have to get off or I’m going to come inside you, and frankly, while in better circumstances that would be perfect, right now we’re not in the best position to have a baby.”
She sat up, eyes wide, and slid off him. “What do I do?”
“You can finish me, or I can finish myself. Your choice, love.”
She took hold of him, sliding her hand over his slick cock and it only took three pumps before the release he’d been holding back overtook him.
He lay there panting, his hands numb, and his head dizzy.
She released his hands and then returned to bed with a damp cloth.
He let her clean him, as it seemed she still wanted to be in charge of their encounter.
When she was done, she lay beside him, and he pulled the blanket over them.
“I can leave if you want me to.”
“Don’t you dare.” She lay her cheek on his chest and Tristan smiled as he settled back and put his arm around her.
“Whenever you’re cross with me, you can tie me up,” he said and then he yawned.
“Is this a bargain? Should I have you sign a contract?”
He chuckled. “All you have to do is ask. I’m happily at your mercy.”
And if all went as planned, he’d be signing a marriage license, which was its own kind of contract.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He tried to see her face, but it was angled away and too dark. He kissed the top of her head.
“I love you. Don’t worry, Flick. Soon this will all be over.
” She didn’t reply. Her breathing was deep and even now and she’d fallen asleep.
He lay there, staring up at the ceiling as thoughts of tomorrow clanged around his head.
The game had been set for tomorrow evening, his opponents, other than Lord Hugstead, were still unknown.
One game of cards would determine the path for the rest of his life.
But he had Lady Luck in his arms. He couldn’t lose.