Chapter 2
I growled through gritted teeth, “You’re going to take my damn cock like the little whore you are. That’s it, baby, keep stroking me. Show me how much you can take.” The filth continued to pour out of my mouth between each labored breath.
The strained words never graced the ears of my obsession as I stood alone in my shower, my hand furiously working over my raging erection.
Every damn stroke sent a surge of pleasure that fed my obsession.
It wasn’t just about the feeling itself, it was about her.
My fucking goddess that lived to torment my dick from within the deep recesses of my mind.
Feeling myself drawing closer to my release, I braced a hand against the slate wall in front of me. The scalding water beat against my back, the muscles drawn taut from the familiar coil on the verge of snapping.
My eyes remained screwed shut, I needed to latch onto the memory of the way her lips curved, how her fingers traced over my markings, and—fuck—that sound she made that landed somewhere between a gasp and moan.
Crafting my fantasy from memories of my vision, I imagined my Little Spade handling my thick cock. I could almost hear her sinfully sweet sounds inside my head as she cried out my name over and over.
Ace, Ace, Ace…
One final downward twist of my hand on my cock, and my body violently shuddered, hips rigidly jerking as thick white lines of my cum spurted from the swollen head. Across my back, the faint glow of red hellfire illuminated the swirling patterns of runes usually invisible on my tanned skin.
Every time my body underwent extreme physical exertion, whether from raising my demon to the surface or splitting a girl open on my cock, the incandescent rivers on my skin flickered to life.
The crimson glow created a map of symbols specific to the original seven Knights.
It was a trait that had women lining up to spread their legs and beg me for more.
Being a Knight of Hell had its perks, especially when it came to the pleasures of flesh and sin.
After the pulsing of my cock halted, I sighed in desperate relief, but I knew it would be short-lived. Nothing and no one ever satisfied my intense desire for my Little Spade. It was an unending need that consumed me.
With my eyes still closed, the vision of the undeniable beauty continued to fill my mind.
I had foreseen her coming into my casino—into my life—two years ago.
The imagery of her red hair diluted by the blonde tones in it, her intense blue eyes, and her quirky smile was burned permanently behind my retinas.
Precognition was such a fucking bitch sometimes, never giving me all the finer details.
The ability had been bestowed on me by the universe at a young age.
Since then, I had perfected my craft over a hundred years.
It was what made owning a casino an easy venture to choose; the house always won.
It didn’t matter who set foot on my floor—fae, cambion, Charlie the fucking Unicorn, or any other supernatural entity—I could read them all.
Unfortunately, being a seer wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
There were a lot of details that got lost in translation.
Dates, names, and precise locations often were obscure.
That meant I had to rely on the context of the imagery that flashed across my mind’s eye.
I supposed that meant you couldn’t always call a spade a spade.
A couple of years ago, I had been out on a run in the sweltering summer heat in the open desert when the start of my obsession began.
The vision slammed violently into my mind’s eye, the impact physically dropping me to my knees.
It showed her sitting inside my casino, defying the odds that were strategically against her.
There was something unique about her, but I couldn’t pinpoint it from the scene in my head alone.
Ever since that day, I’d been waiting for her to fulfill all of my darkest needs.
There wasn’t a day that I didn’t ask myself if today would be the day.
All I knew was that someday she would walk into Sevenfold and I would claim her as mine.
My Little Spade would be on her knees, begging me with those crystalline blue hues that haunted my dreams. There was no part of her that I wouldn’t possess.
Fuck, I’m getting hard again.
Why was it that I couldn’t get this girl out of my brain no matter how many times I jacked off?
It would be really damn nice if my paranormal talent could provide that answer.
Instead, the wait turned out to be the longest and most frustrating seven hundred and seventy-seven days.
Could you have blue balls if you were constantly jerking it?
Unlikely, but my nutsack wasn’t getting the memo to stop fucking aching.
Forcing myself to think of anything that could have my dick retreat into a softer state, I finished my shower and walked into my bedroom with a towel loosely wrapped around my waist.
Today was going to be a busy day down on the casino floor, and I wanted to keep a watchful eye over my pride and joy.
We were hosting Sevenfold’s inaugural invitation-only blackjack tournament for the most elite players in Superbia.
At the conclusion of the tournament, the last player remaining had a chance to either walk away, double their money, or lose it all in a single hand against yours truly. Winner took all.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t fucking lose.
Getting dressed in one of my many tailored suits, I took care to ensure there wasn’t a single wrinkle in sight.
My appearance was one of many things I refused to compromise on.
Around here, looks were everything. Mud goblins could go squander their shiny pebbles elsewhere.
Like getting their greedy little dicks off at The Gilded Veil, a pretentious kink and taboo hotel two blocks away.
Keeping things simple today, I chose an all-black ensemble. The silver cufflinks in the shape of a spade were the only things that deviated from my dark and charming appearance. I adjusted the suspenders over my shoulders before thrusting my arms into the sleeves of my suit jacket.
Taking a look in the mirror, I ran my fingers over the dark strands of hair that were locked in place with just enough product.
Without a little gel, the longer hairs on the top of my head would fall in front of my evergreen eyes.
I gazed at my reflection, and my hand ran over my square jaw as I examined my neatly groomed, week-old scruff.
With one more adjustment to the collar of my jacket over the black dress shirt, I turned to leave before remembering one last accessory. Pivoting on my heel, I walked to my nightstand and picked up the black playing card with silver lettering.
I smiled to myself knowingly. I could never leave home without my lucky Ace of Spades.
Whistling an upbeat tune to myself, I flipped the card between my fingers, comforted by the glide of the silky protective film keeping the card from getting scuffed up.
After a few rotations of the ace, I tucked it securely into the inner pocket of my jacket and left my penthouse suite located twenty-five floors above the casino.
On my way out the door, I flashed my trademark smile, and waved to Julissa as I stepped into the hall. Approaching my private elevator, I reminded her, “Don’t forget to switch out the flowers in the spare bedroom today. They are looking a little wilted.”
“Of course, Mr. Reynard,” she replied with a polite smile.
The housekeeper waved her hand in a circular motion over the top of her cart of supplies.
As the air blurred underneath her palm, suddenly a fresh set of bubblegum pink amaryllis blooms appeared.
Employing a witch as a maid proved to be quite beneficial.
They may have been pricey, but they were efficient, had great attention to detail, and didn’t ask stupid questions.
Questions like why I required a fresh bouquet to be maintained in an empty room.
Satisfied with the blossoms she seemed to draw from thin air, I continued to the elevator doors. I hoped my Little Spade would appreciate the freshly cut stems I always had on hand for whenever she arrived. Whether that day was today or three years from now, I wouldn’t be caught dead unprepared.
A few minutes later, the ding of the elevator announced my arrival on the ground floor of Sevenfold.
The doors slid open, and my ears were filled with the hustle and bustle of my kingdom.
The roulette wheel ticked, slots sang, crystal glasses clinked, but my favorite sound?
The groans of patrons as they discovered their financial undoing.
Alright, first things first.
Rubbing my hands together, I made my way to the teller windows, checking in with the head cashier to find a satisfactory start to the day.
Afterwards, I met up with my lead host who would be coordinating tonight’s tournament.
Even without relying on my foresight, I was positive that with each detail firmly nailed down, this event would be nothing short of perfection, putting me on fucking cloud nine.
At the far end of the table games, I approached the pit boss, Levi.
Demons were fickle creatures. Some preferred to strut around like uncivilized heathens in their unmasked demon form, and others chose to maintain an illusion over their natural state.
Levi fell into the latter category, he appeared like most any other run-of-the-mill human.
Though if you looked hard enough, you could see the yellowing of his eyes that betrayed his true species beneath the facade.
As for me, my vanity demanded that I keep up a polished outer appearance. It was a matter of professionalism and survival. I preferred to keep up the mirage of a more human aesthetic rather than some underworld sludgeling. For security reasons, I demanded the same polished look of all my employees.