SEXT

“Deal,” I said, and I hoped my voice didn’t give away my winning hand, the quiver of excitement almost too much to disguise.

Zayne grinned. “So, you accept this raise in stakes?”

“I do,” I replied.

“Good,” he answered. “Consider us both all in, then.” Then it came time for us to reveal our hands. I spread mine on the table with a smirk. His eyes widened, his lips parting for a moment. I resisted the urge to laugh. He really didn’t know what I had up my sleeve.

“You’re getting better at this,” he muttered, a begrudgingly appreciative tone in his voice. But then he lowered his hand and spread his cards in response, grinning.

Royal flush.

Shit.

“You’re impossible,” I groaned.

He laughed. “Admit it, you love it. Now, I believe my hour starts now…” His gaze swept over me.

“Unfair,” I added with a pout.

He lifted an eyebrow, suddenly stern. “Did I say you could speak?”

I snapped my mouth shut, though I continued to glare at him.

He laughed. “Mm, the sore loser look doesn’t suit you. Stand up, Clove.”

I rose from the table, pushing the chair back as I did. His gaze swept down again, over the casual T-shirt and pair of his boxer shorts I’d donned for dinner. We didn’t stand on ceremony that weekend, not with all the stripping we’d been doing whenever possible. His gaze lingered on my top.

“Take off your shirt.”

I stripped it off without a word and dropped it beside the table. I had no bra on, having already lost that in a prior round, so my breasts were immediately exposed, my nipples hardening in the chilly evening air.

He stood up and raised a hand, and I tensed in anticipation of his warm touch. But he didn’t quite touch me, not yet. He let his hand hover an inch from my chest, tracing circles through the air just inches from me.

“Touch your breasts,” he said.

I lifted my hands to cup my breasts from beneath, and squeezed them, massaging them lightly, pressing them together between my palms.

“Harder.”

I clenched my fists around my skin, watched the way my nipples hardened even further at the sensation.

“Now run your hands down your body, slowly.”

I trailed my hands down my sides, as slow as I could, tracing my ribcage, my waist, my hips. I hesitated at the boxer waistband, looked up at Zayne.

“Take those off too,” he said, his voice gone low and dark with lust. I could tell from the hard bulge in his pants that he was enjoying this every bit as much as I was.

I pushed the boxers down slowly, letting them snag on my hipbones before they finally fell to reveal my mound. They dropped to my knees, then my ankles, and I stepped out of them easily.

“Spread your legs,” Zayne said.

I swallowed hard, but obeyed him, standing with my feet shoulder-width apart.

“Arms out, too” he added.

I spread them wide to either side of me, feeling like I was on display.

When he finally touched me, I couldn’t help but jolt with the surprise of it. His warm skin against mine felt like an electric shock, his rough palms grazing my nipples before his hands clenched around my breasts and squeezed, the way I had a moment ago, but harder, rougher. I began to rock in place slightly, unable to help myself, swaying toward him with every rough grope of my breasts.

“Hold still,” he commanded, and it took effort to still myself, to balance on my feet in one position and let him take whatever he wanted from me.

He ran his hands down my back next, stepping closer to do it. He was close enough that the bulge in his boxers grazed my belly, and I sucked in a deep breath at the sudden skim of his cock against my bare, flat stomach. His hands, on the other hand, kept moving, running down the plane of my back, tracing my spine to my ass, which he gripped so hard I was sure he’d leave bruises. He pulled me up against him and crushed his cock against my belly so I was pinned there against him, my arms and legs spread, trying hard to keep my balance, to keep breathing normally, to keep my racing heart from driving me wild, right over the edge.

Fuck, I was soaking wet already.

He slapped my ass as he stepped back, an appreciative grin on his face. “Good girl,” he murmured, stepping aside to walk slowly around me. “Are you enjoying yourself, Clove?” he asked, his voice a whisper at my ear as he paused beside me, and trailed one finger along my outstretched arm, raising goosebumps the whole way along. “You can answer,” he added when I didn’t reply, because I’d learned my lesson about the speaking thing once already.

“Yes,” I breathed, and he chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. Fuck. What was he going to do to me?