Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

KC hummed at whatever the boy was telling him. “You raise a good point.” Meanwhile, his fingers were just there, stroking the length of Noa’s bottom as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. He might as well have been rubbing the boy’s arm or leg.

Kingsley leaned back, the motion stealing my attention, and I glanced his way to find him staring at me with a knowing look in his eyes.

Caught you.

I swallowed hard and dropped my gaze to the table.

I needed to regroup. Kingsley and KC were clearly skilled in what they were doing if they’d managed to disarm me so fast. Even if this was make-believe, my self-confidence was wavering. Perhaps they could reach into my mind and wreak havoc.

What an absolutely tantalizing thought.

“All right.” KC patted the young man’s bottom, to which the boy left his Daddy’s lap. “Noa here is a bit peeved. He believes Franklin is purposely shielding himself with the table, effectively robbing our audience of a show.” His gaze shifted to me. “How do you respond to that, Franklin?”

I blanched. Too many responses welled up at once, so I pressed my lips together in a thin line. That wretched boy! I couldn’t help but toss him a quick, impatient look. Why would he accuse me of such a thing?

“Did you just glare at KC’s property?” Kingsley asked with a frown.

“No! No, I did not glare.” I punctuated every word and felt flustered all over again. Did I even stand a damn chance in this room?

“I thought he glared,” Noa replied frankly. “It proves my point. He’s a meanie. I wanna see his cock, Daddy.”

He shoved me in two different directions with that. One, he could see my cock whenever he wanted—he could play with it too—and two, I was not a…meanie. And he was definitely not on my side. In my online research, I’d gotten the impression that submissives tended to stick together.

Kingsley tapped a finger on the notebook. “Let’s add ungrateful and deceitful to the list. Then the whore can stop playing games and pull out his chair. We don’t allow our toys to hide.”

My face caught on fire once more, and I swallowed my chagrin and scooted out a foot or two. They were just going to keep on adding things to the list. There was nothing I could do about it.

“You might want to help him, baby boy,” KC told Noa. “He acts as if he doesn’t want to be here.”

“I do,” I insisted. I swiftly removed my hands from my lap. “I promise—”

“We don’t trust liars,” Kingsley drawled.

Noa skipped over to me, and I gasped or stuttered a breath, and I stared with wide eyes as he tugged at my cock to make sure it was visible for everyone. Oh my God, his fingers on me, his tactless, greedy touch—he was all but stroking me.

“O-oh,” I groaned. More, please. More, please. Sweet, darling boy. All rational thought left my brain. Whatever they accused me of, I could confess. It didn’t matter anymore.

Noa let out a laugh and backed away from me. “Look how fast he got horny, Daddy. He’s like me. Can’t control himself.”

I sucked in a breath and missed his touch already. The look I sent him next had no traces of a glare or impatience. I eye-fucked him. I wondered what it would be like to sink my cock into his small bottom, if he’d let me, or what it would be like to be denied by him. He could come on my face, laugh at me, call me a slutty old man—whatever he desired. I’d agree to anything.

“We better move on,” Kingsley murmured. “I don’t think the whore has many brain cells left.”

No, I fucking did not. I just wanted to get fucked. Fucked, fucked, fucked.

“Let’s go with one of the more serious infractions,” KC said. “Franklin, the night you met Kingsley in a bar—under false pretenses—did you or did you not tell him that Tate had already found multiple other partners?”

That was the coldest shower I could receive. My stomach dropped, frustration and guilt gripped my heart in a vise, and…I could confess. I could say yes, I’d said something to that effect. Or I could say no, because he was twisting the truth too much.

“I’d been under the impression that Tate had been with others after the breakup, yes—because that’s what he’d mentioned. A group-play event,” I said. “But last weekend, he told me he’d left the event early.”

“Did you correct your mistake?” KC prodded. “Did you tell Kingsley that Tate hadn’t made it that far?”

I clenched my jaw. “No, Sir.”

“Why not?”

“And why did you let me know he’d been with others in the first place?” Kingsley added. “You told me Tate hadn’t crossed any lines while we’d been together. That he would never go behind my back. But for some reason, you wanted to add that he’d had other partners after the breakup.”