I set my glass down and let the smile slide away like a curtain. The easy, indulgent version of me left the room—replaced by the part that liked order, dominance, results.
“Next round,” I said. No invitation in it, only command. This time I didn’t blink when she matched my bets. I didn’t let a muscle give away my play. I watched her the whole way, mapping the little tells she didn’t know she had: the way herthroat worked when she was about to bluff, the tiny flare of her nostrils when she held a good card.
When the cards hit the table and mine beat hers clean, I let the chips slide toward me and felt that cold satisfaction settle in my chest.
“You cheated,” she accused, half-protest, half-plea.
“Maybe I let you win the first time,” I said, voice quiet, close enough that only she could hear. “I don’t play to lose.” My hand found hers across the felt, fingers closing around hers in a grip that was more possession than comfort.
Her chin tilted stubbornly, eyes sparking in challenge. “Then you’d better get used to disappointment,” she whispered back, though her fingers curled tighter around mine instead of pulling away.
That fire in Tessa—her need to push me, test me, even when she knew better—made the hunger in me twist. She wanted to defy me. She wanted me to prove her wrong. And I would.
I didn’t give her another moment. My other hand came up to cradle the back of her neck, tilting her face toward mine. I crushed my mouth to hers, hard and claiming, letting the tension explode into heat. Her lips parted against mine, fingers threading through my hair as if she’d been waiting for this, daring me to lose control. Every nerve in me screamed, every instinct shouted that she was mine, that I would take her, here, now, before the world even had a chance to breathe.
When we finally broke apart, just enough to breathe, her lashes were wet, her cheeks flushed, and that stubborn spark in her eyes had deepened into something darker—want, curiosity, and something that mirrored my own hunger perfectly. I held her hand, fingers still entwined with hers, knowing the next move in our game wouldn’t be gentle. Not by a long shot.
The idea of waiting to fuck her was agonizing. Every second I held back made my cock ache more. If it were up to me, I wouldlay her across this poker table, push her dress up, and claim her in front of the entire room—make the world watch as she trembled beneath me, as she became mine in every sense of the word.
“We,” I said, trying to contain my heavy breathing. “Are leaving.”
Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise, excitement, and that ever-present spark of defiance flaring in them. I let my hand tighten slightly around hers, letting the weight of my grip remind her that she wasn’t walking away from me tonight.
Without another word, I stood and led Tessa through the velvet-draped hallways, past curious glances and whispered bets, each step a promise that the night was far from over. The hum of the lounge faded behind us, replaced by the charged silence between us, heavy with want, defiance, and something dark that neither of us could deny.
And as the door closed behind us, I let a small, cruel smile tug at my lips. The game wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
Chapter 18
Tessa
The car was quiet except for the hum of the engine, but the heat building between Felix and me was deafening. His hand rested lightly on my thigh at first, innocent enough—or so I tried to tell myself—but then it moved, slow and deliberate, inching closer, tracing a line that set my core on fire.
I bit my lip, trying to steady my breathing, my heart hammering like a drum I couldn’t control. Every nerve in my body was alive, every brush of his fingers against me sending a shock straight through my center.
The rational part of me wanted to push back, wanted to stop him, but the pull of him was magnetic, irresistible. Felix didn’t speak, but his eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror, a dark promise dancing in their depths. My fingers curled in my lap, my knuckles white as I tried to keep some shred of composure.
I tried to swallow, tried to tell myself to stay calm, but heat pooled low in my belly, tightening with every inch he gained.My fingers pressed against my own legs, gripping the seat, but it wasn’t enough to anchor me. His touch was fire, tracing paths I didn’t even know I wanted explored.
His eyes caught mine in the mirror, dark and dangerous, and the smirk tugging at his lips made my knees weaken. Every subtle press of his fingers made it impossible to think clearly, impossible to focus on anything but him—him and the maddening, delicious tease of what he was about to do.
Felix’s thumb gently teased the outside of my clothed panties, sending tingles all the way through me, and I gasped, unable to contain it. The sound seemed to spark something within him, because his hand moved faster, trailing along the thin fabric until he reached the bare skin of my inner thigh. His thumb circled slowly, so soft, so gentle, even as my heart raced wildly.
“I bet could make you come before we even got home,” he murmured. “I can feel how wet you are through your panties.”
My breath hitched, every muscle clenched tight, and I couldn't deny the truth of his words. My cheeks flushed hot as he continued his slow journey upward, his hand sliding higher and higher until it finally found its target. Heat surged through me as his thumb pressed against my already swollen clit, circling it slowly at first, then harder, faster.
Felix’s eyes flicked between me and the road, and I should have worried about him crashing—but I was too lost in the way he made me feel. I arched my back into his touch, unable to contain myself any longer. I was lost in this feeling, in him, and there was no going back now.
"Felix," I whispered, my voice hoarse with need. "Please."
Each thrust of his fingers inside me was punctuated by his thumb's repetitive circling of my clit, and suddenly, it was too much. I cried out his name one last time, shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. The car sped up, engine roaring as if echoing my own cries of release.
Even as I came down from the edge, he didn’t let go. His fingers lingered, wet and slick, and then—deliberately—he brought them to his mouth, sucking and licking me clean. The intimate, possessive action made my knees weak all over again, and heat flared through me, reminding me how completely he owned me, even in the aftermath of my release.
The roar of the engine faded as we pulled up to the brownstone, but my body was still on fire, every nerve singing from the way he’d claimed me.
Felix’s hand slid possessively along my thigh, pressing me closer to him. His lips brushed my ear, voice low and rough. “Plan on being up all night,” he murmured, and I knew he meant it. Every word dripped with ownership, a promise that I was his—and he had no intention of letting me go.
