Oh, fuck.
So good.
I’m royally flushed!
"Now, what do you do if someone raises?" Before I can register his words, he angles his hips, sliding against that spot that winds my muscles like a coil.
"I raise them back!"
"Not so quick. You need to evaluate. Aretheybluffing, or do they really have a good hand? Is yours better? Make them simmer on your contemplation. Make them” —the hand on my hip snakes around my waist, down my trembling abdomen, to my clit where he circles and plays—“squirm."
"Oh..."A throaty moan falls through my parted lips. "I have a good hand... I raise. A very—" I gasp, and he thrusts. Plays. Thrust. Plays. "Very." Thrust. "Good hand."
Fucking hell.
Without so much as an uneven breath or an insolent groan to offer me, he claims me with the same targeted and meticulous attention he gives all his endeavours.
His warm breath hits my sweaty neck. "Your pretty little pussy loves my cock, sweet girl. The way you clench. The way you shudder. You can’t bluff me, even though your orgasm depends on it.”
Moaning, letting it all out while he holds the perfect poker-apathy, my orgasm swells within, causing my hips to work incircles—forwards to grace his fingers on my clit and backwards to meet his steady, detached but perfect drives.
My thighs tremble.
"Try again,” he purrs. “Do you like your cards?"
Hm. Cards, sure, sure.
I close my eyes as pleasure bubbles through my body, so close to boiling, so uncompromising and arrowed.
"You're so wet for me," he says as the slapping of his hips, the wet noise of him pounding into my wet channel, wild sex noises seem louder than usual because of his annoyingly still breath and even tone.
I want to come
"I want to raise," I beg. “I have a good hand, Sir. I do.”Ugh,I don’t want to play anymore. Want to come.
I feel his smile on my neck. "Try again."
You win, Sir.
You win.
"Tell me I can come,” I gasp and mewl, but can’t seem to allow myself to come undone. Need his permission. Need him to say the game is over. “That I don't have to pretend. I want to come.”
"Do you have a good hand?"
"No, it’s crap. Please, Sir, let me come."
His low chuckle vibrates through me, a physical sensation that travels from his chest to my spine. "Come."
Pleasure boils over within me, my visiongoing black but for stars and bliss. My nails dig into the felt sohardthey ache while my inner walls pulse and clencharound Sir’s huge, thick cock. Each thrust now sends aftershocks rolling up my spine, stealingmybreath, sanity,and leavingnothingbut broken gasps and trembling limbs and a terrible, terrible poker hand.
His hand leaves my clit, possessing my other hip as heworks inside me, before holding himself deep and growling out his own release.
"Fuck, sweet girl." His voice breaks with emotion. The first crack in his poker-face since we started this game. While his cock pulses inside me, his forehead meets the top of my head. “Good girl,” he praises, panting. “That’s better.”
He lifts his head. “Now as you walk amongst those fuckers tonight, endearing them, letting them enjoy your pretty face and perfect legs, while you eat and drink with them, share your giggles and sweet smiles, you will feel my cum sliding into your knickers to remind you who owns you.”
I blush. “Yes, Sir.”
