Page 42 of Pride: Kneel Before None

What I found there between her legs left me smirking with satisfaction.

Definitely arousal. Her cunt was dripping enough to soak her panties.

Withdrawing my hand, I delivered the next five consecutive spanks to the meat of her ass in quick succession. Each one landed, sharp and full of dark promises for later.

Eve’s gasps were punctuated by her hand grabbing at the line of keys to brace herself, providing quite the musical composition. Dissonant notes paired with the high-pitched noises coming from her throat created a sublime symphony with me as its composer.

The Ace Reynard Symphony No. 7 in Scarlet Major had a nice ring to it if I said so myself.

Refusing to leave my Little Spade on anything but a high note, I soothed my hand over the most tender spots. To help alleviate the sting with a notable distraction, I pressed down on her hips to let my dick’s insistent presence prod at her lower belly.

Delicate whimpers fell from Eve’s lips to a point where I was forced to cut my aftercare short. Wrecking her virginity here in the middle of the restaurant would have been a spectacle worth garnering attention. Selfishly, I wanted to keep that moment to myself.

Once upright, her hands tugged at her dress with frantic movements. Restoring her modesty, she jabbed one manicured nail straight to the center of my chest.

“We are leaving,” she hissed in a low voice.

I sat there a moment longer to soak in the sight of her like this before pushing off the piano bench onto my feet. Reaching inside my suit jacket, I gathered a folded wad of cash and dropped it onto the line of ivory keys. The paper bills subsequently scattered, several fluttering to the floor.

“After you.” I extended an arm in the direction of the exit with the chivalry of a knight who traded steel armor for tailored luxury. Though my actual armor remained in pristine condition back at the penthouse, it was more ceremonial pageantry than a uniform.

The gesture didn’t go ignored. Eve straightened up and stalked off ahead of me. I paced several steps behind her, giving her room to breathe during her childish tantrum.

Also, the view wasn’t bad either. My head canted to one side as I admired the sway of her hips with each indignant step.

Once outside The Veil, she folded her arms tightly beneath the swell of her breasts as she looked around the strip yawning with nightlife and just beginning to awaken for the evening.

“Where to?” she asked in a clipped tone that wasn’t unexpected, given how our dinner plans concluded.

Stepping up next to her, my hand hovered at the small of her back just close enough to let her feel the heat of my presence while I pointed to a neon-lit structure.

The massive pitchfork was gaudy as fuck, but it acted as an effective landmark for the Forked Tongue Casino. The owner was about as cheesy as the name of the joint.

“You see that? It belongs to a friend of mine. I owe him a visit.”

So did my fists for swindling funds from my pocket. Lucky for me, I intended to collect with interest with an assist from my Little Spade.

Keeping Eve close during our brief stroll over to the gambling establishment, I explained her role in all of this.

She stopped to face me while we waited for the traffic light to change and give us the right to cross the street without being run over.

“That’s a horrible plan.” Her critique may have been valid if it weren’t for one minor detail she wasn’t privy to.

“Oh?” I feigned ignorance.

Her hip cocked to one side, and I knew she was geared up to launch into a grand speech that would mean absolutely nothing.

Yet I listened like the kind and patient man I was, up until the second word out of her mouth. At which point, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in close until my mouth was on hers.

The kiss was rough, nothing designed to coax romance, and everything that preceded every deadly sin in the book.

Pulling back, my thumb caressed over the side of her neck in a mockery of tenderness. “Stick to the plan.”

The inside of the Forked Tongue was about as gaudy as you could get. The walls were cramped with too many mementos and trinkets, colors clashed, and the air smelled like Satan’s ass crack. However, the scent may have been an intentional draw for some of Superbia’s less refined individuals.

Eve took her seat at the roulette table. The wheel looked like the remnants of a bicycle tire after a hit-and-run, after being dumped at the bottom of a lake. Yes, it lacked balance—but more importantly, it was a visual offense that made my business instincts recoil on principle.

“This is stupid,” my Little Spade muttered.