Master Of Games

by Sienna Snow

  “Pierce. Oh God. Pierce.”

  He knelt between my splayed legs and pulled the vibrating cock out of my dripping pussy then replaced it with the crest of his rigid shaft. My body continued to float on the release that wasn’t quite satisfying.

  “Do you want this, baby?”

  “Yes. I need you.”

  “Do you?”

  I clutched my fingers against the cuffs, tossing my head back and forth. “Yes. Please. It’s not enough without you.”

  My mind, heart, and body ached for him. Why was he doing this to me?

  He slammed into me, my back bowing but unable to do anything but take his hard, relentless assault. He sank in and out of my swollen, aching tissue. His thighs rubbed along mine with each thrust, but he kept the rest of his body distant from mine.

  I ached for more. The orgasm from moments earlier was only half of what I needed. I wanted to feel the connection, the slide of skin, the heat of his body—the taste of his lips. What we’d shared every day since all of this began—except today.

  “Please, I need more. I need…”

  “I know what you need. But you won’t get it. I want you to know what it feels like. I want you to know how much it hurts to ache for something that is right there but you can’t ever reach.”

  He pounded my sex, working me until I was climbing again. Then we both shattered simultaneously, calling each other’s names but feeling unfulfilled.

  I barely registered when Pierce removed the handcuffs or when he rubbed the feeling back into my limbs. I remained silent as he cleaned my body, rubbed a salve on my skin and then pulled me against him.

  This was not how it was supposed to be with us. The kink, the games, the pain was deeper with emotions and need wrapped all around it. What we’d done felt cold, detached.

  I turned to my side.

  “This wasn’t about the club, was it?”

  He lifted the arm covering his face and looked at me. “No, it wasn’t.”

  There was a hint of resignation in his voice I couldn’t understand.

  “Then what was it about?”

  “You tell me.”

  Propping myself on one arm, I said, “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit.” He rolled off the bed and walked toward the bathroom.

  I followed behind him, grabbing one of his shirts from the back of a chair and slipping it on. “What the hell does that mean?”

  He seized me, pinning me against the wall. “It means you’re biding your time until you have to leave. You’re expecting it to end. You said as much on the phone this morning. The only fucking times you’ve been honest with me were when you were drunk or in a scene.”

  “You listened to my conversation with Lucas?”

  “I came out behind you but you didn’t notice.”

  Fuck. I forgot. He was fluent in Greek.

  “Did you love Thanos so much that you would let a group of men who seem to despise you run your life? You’re not giving us a real chance.”

  “It’s complicated. I have to protect…”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  He released me and walked farther into the giant bathroom and toward the shower. He turned on the faucet and then stepped back, resting his forehead against the outer stone wall.

  “What does it matter? I should have known better. I forced you into this. A child for a child. I’m the bastard who offered you the deal.”

  I winced inside.

  “You’re free. I won’t force you to give me another child. I won’t force you to be something to me that you don’t want to be. All I ask is that you let me have some sort of relationship with Christopher. I think it’s better if we stay away from each other unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  A numbness washed over me. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. The last thing I wanted was for this to end.

  “Pierce,” I said in a soft whisper, “I don’t want what we have to stop.”

  “God, Amelia. I’m trying to do the right thing. I won’t let you destroy me again.” He gripped the stone edge of the shower wall. His fingers were white from the intensity of the pressure.

  Slowing moving behind him, I slid my palm over his stomach, feeling the muscles clench as I pressed my body to his and my lips to his spine, just under the tattoo that covered his upper back.

  “I don’t want to hurt you. I want to be with you.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as I can.” It was all I could promise.

  “What about Christopher? He’ll be here soon. What are we going to tell him?”

  “At first, nothing about who you really are.” Pierce’s stance stiffened, so I continued, “Then in the future, when he’s old enough to handle it, we’ll tell him the truth. He all but hero-worships you. He wants to beat your record. So we’ll have dinner together the day after he comes to town. You can get to know him.”

  “And Stavros’s claim to Christopher? To you?”

  “For now, it’ll remain the way it is. But in the future—I don’t know.”

  My body filled with regret, knowing I wanted Pierce more than I ever wanted Stavros. Logically I knew Stavros had never gotten over his first wife. He’d loved me, but in a different way.

  At that moment, Pierce turned, taking me into his arms. He held me as I let the sadness release.

  “Am I always going to have to compete against a dead man?”

  How could I explain that there was no competition, he had always come first in my heart?

  I tilted my head to look at his breathtaking face. “Pierce. Stavros isn’t here. I’m with you.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.” I rose onto my tiptoes, kissing the frown from his lips.

  The instant our mouths touched, a fire ignited. We began to devour each other, tasting, savoring, consuming. Our tongues dueled, unable to get enough.

  “Pierce,” I gasped and then went back for more.

  I loved the taste of his kiss, intoxicating and all-consuming.

  A groan rumbled from his chest as he cupped my ass, lifting me up against the hard ridge of his growing cock. I instinctively wrapped my legs around him, rolling my hips so the head of his erection slid along the damp length of my cleft.

  He carried me into the shower stall, pushing my back to the tiled wall. The steaming spray cascaded down our bodies. Pierce lowered me to my feet without freeing my lips.

  He tore the soaked shirt from my body. His need was almost overwhelming, and there was no way I would consider stopping the onslaught.

  His mouth trailed down my neck and chest, licking and nipping until he was facing my slick pussy. He licked his lips and then descended. His tongue pushed between my folds. Lifting both of my legs, he set them on his shoulders and continued to consume me. He circled and flicked at my clitoral nub, making it strain and ache.

  I had no control, and I had no desire to do anything but let him take charge of my body. I grabbed hold of the showerhead with one hand and threaded the other into his hair.

  Water pounded over my skin, adding to the erotic feel of Pierce. The low pulsing deep in my core grew harder, spurring the start of my orgasm.

  The second Pierce’s fingers pushed into my pussy and curled upward toward the hidden bundle of nerves, I detonated.

  “Oh, Pierce.” I clenched his thick ebony tresses in a relentless grip as waves of ecstasy poured over me.

  Slowly, Pierce rose, still holding me up, and positioned the thick purple crown of his cock at my entrance.

  He held my gaze as he thrust forward.

  Something in that moment shifted between us. As if the past, the present, and the future were tied to each other.

  I slid my arms around his shoulders and drew him closer, kissing him with all the emotion and love I felt for him. He responded in turn. We moved together, loving each other like never before. This time when we came, it was deeper, more passionate, emotional, and soul fulfilling.

  Chapter Eighteen
/>   Amelia

  * * *

  A couple of weeks after my drunken night out with the girls and my fight with Pierce, I sat on the benches in the Lykaios training facility reviewing a binder filled with open promo spots Thanos Sports was negotiating to fill before the fight in a little over five weeks. I had a handful of high-maintenance sponsors who I knew would sign but needed a bit of hand-holding that took more energy than I truly had to spare.

  Plus, Pierce was out of town and I was sexually frustrated.

  “So is it serious, or are you scratching an itch?” Apollo said as he approached me.

  Apollo wiped his sweat-covered face with the towel draped across his shoulders and set a local gossip-column page next to me. Front and center was a photo of Pierce and me at dinner two nights ago. His face was too close to mine to be platonic but showing no other outward signs of what was actually happening under the tablecloth.

  The headline read: “Definitely More Than Friends.”

  I could almost feel the slow strokes of Pierce’s fingers across the damp crotch of my thong. He’d teased me nonstop throughout dinner, never going further than the slow, sensual torture of his hand. I’d been nearly out of my mind to come. Then the bastard had taken me back to my penthouse and all but pushed me inside, only saying one word—“Training”—before he shut the door in my face and left me there, overheated and desperate to come.

  I’d had the urge to handle the situation myself, but knew I wouldn’t get the relief I craved no matter how many times I made myself come. Now the asshole was in New York for an important meeting, and I was here working and needing relief.

  Fuck training. I hate training.

  Taking a calming breath, I traced the photo with my fingertip and said, “It’s complicated.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. I’ve known you far too long. I’ve seen the subtle changes over the last month. Whatever is happening is way deeper than anything I’ve ever seen with you, and that includes your relationship with Stavros.”

  I closed my eyes for a brief second, unable to deny the truth of Apollo’s words.

  What was I supposed to say? That this was more than an itch, it was an unquenchable need to be with, to fuck, to love Pierce Lykaios. I had to get him out of my system before I returned to my sweet conservative life in Greece. A life that I dreaded more and more with each passing day.

  How was I supposed to pretend I didn’t have the need for the submission, the discipline, the pain-laced pleasure I felt under Pierce’s hands? Or the freedom to let him control my world? How was I supposed to go back to a business where every decision I made was questioned because of my sex? Or having to create a company I loved as a way to rebel against the back-assed views of the people around me?

  Something had changed on a fundamental level between Pierce and me since that fight at his penthouse. Our private life had made its way into the public.

  The world knew we were together. And the games we played were now in plain sight. However, unless we called attention to it, no one would know I was living the lifestyle I had no doubt I’d have lived in if Pierce and I had never broken up.

  “Are you going to answer me?” Irritation laced Apollo’s words.

  “He was my first love. Some of those feelings never die.”

  “It is way more than rekindled childhood romance. I’m not blind.” He crossed his giant biceps and glared down at me. “You two have way too much history. And not the happy kind. I don’t want your heart broken.”

  “If you’re about to lecture me on my sex life, sit down. I’m getting a crick in my neck.”

  He threw his towel on the metal bleacher and stepped across the first row, straddling the bench.

  “Ame.” He ran a hand through his barely there hair. “How the hell do I say this?”

  I frowned. “Just say whatever you have to say.”

  “What if he’s trying to get back at you for marrying Stavros?”

  “You think he’s going to make me fall in love with him and then dump me?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him. I know his history. He all but imploded after you left him. He lost his sports career and had to go to rehab.”

  I didn’t want to think too long on his words. I harbored enough guilt about the past as it was, especially after hearing nearly those same things from Pierce’s lips.

  “I’m not responsible for another person’s actions. I was eighteen at the time. I could barely handle my own choices.”

  “Dammit, Amelia, I’m not defending him. I just want you to know he could be finding a way to get back at you.”

  “Your concern is noted.”

  “There’s something else that I’m not sure you’re aware of.” He shifted as if what he was about to say made him uncomfortable.

  “Just say it.”

  “That man is into all kinds of kinky shit. He may keep it low-key, but anyone who knows him is aware of his proclivity. He likes pain, he likes control. Hell, he owns kink clubs. Are you sure you can handle it?”

  My cheeks immediately heated. How many people knew about Pierce’s bedroom preferences, or the clubs? A pang of jealousy prickled the back of my neck as visions of all those women I’d seen over the years on his arm flashed before me.

  I pushed down the irritation and held Apollo’s gaze as I said, “Who do you think it started with? We were each other’s firsts.”

  He winced in response. “That was not what I expected to hear you say. Fuck.” He rubbed his eyes. “There are some things I don’t want in my head, and images of you bound, gagged, and paddled aren’t one of them.”

  “You asked,” I said, envisioning exactly what Apollo said and feeling my unsatisfied core clench.

  Dammit, Pierce. I swear I’ll make you pay.

  “I did. To my regret, I did.”

  In the distance I overheard Neya’s coach shouting pointers to her.

  Setting my papers to the side, I leaned my arms on my knees and rested my chin on my hands. I focused on the sparring match between Neya and one of her coaches. She moved better than I could have ever imagined doing in my youth. That girl was living the dream I’d had.

  “You really can’t be shocked by this. You went to that club in Paris with Stavros and me. I’ve never hidden my interests from you.”

  “I guess I always put you in the slot of the curious spectator, not a participant. I loved Stavros. God rest his soul, but the man was as vanilla as they came, despite the playboy reputation of his pre-Amelia years.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk at the last part. Stavros had a notorious past of supposed parties, orgies, and jet-setting. All of which was a front for the ultra-private man who used the outside view of himself as a shield to keep people away.

  “Should I put you in the same slot, Apollo? Spectator until the right Mistress comes along?”

  His eyes widened.

  “I’m well aware of what all of you are into.” I gestured toward Neya.

  Neya was rumored to be a well-known Mistress in Barcelona. It could explain the constant tension between her and Apollo. Maybe one day they’d act on the attraction and put the team out of their misery.

  “My sex life is not the topic of discussion.”

  “What is it you really want to know, Apollo?”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  I closed my eyes for a second. “Yes. I never stopped. Now that we’re together again, it’s more intense than ever.”

  “Well, shit. What are you going to do?”

  “Do about what?”

  “After the fight are you coming back with us or staying?”

  His question startled me. That was definitely not what I expected him to ask.

  “What makes you think I’ll stay? No matter how much I want it to be otherwise, my relationship with Pierce is temporary.”

  Now if only I could convince my heart of the same fact.

  “Excluding this thing with you and Lykaios, I’ve never seen you as at peace as you are here. I
t’s like you’re home. Greece was never the place for you.”

  “I was born in Greece. I’m Greek.”

  “But you grew up here. You’re as American as they come. When you fit somewhere, you just fit.”

  Apollo was right. I was home. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed the US and especially Sin City until I came back.

  Over the last few weeks, I’d easily reconnected with the city, the lifestyle here, and some of my old childhood friends, even making new business contacts through them.

  Some had suggested I branch out and give the Lykaios brothers a run for their money in the sporting-event arena. The idea had merit since I had just as many contacts as they did, but it would also mean uprooting Christopher.

  All he’d ever known was Greece. He’d have to assimilate here as I’d had to do. Plus there was the matter of Stavros’s family, who adored Christopher. Could I take him from them?

  Christopher wasn’t the only obstacle. My parents lived in Greece. I’d have to arrange for them to follow me. Then there was Thanos International. I truly wanted no part of it, but it was something Stavros had left in my care for Christopher.

  God, I was so fucked.

  “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” Apollo’s statement broke into my thoughts.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I want to retire.”

  What? He was really all over the place today. He had to be kidding. MMA was his life.

  I studied his face and realized he was dead serious.

  “When did you make the decision?”

  “I haven’t made any decision. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.” He looked toward Neya. “I’m getting old, and I’d rather leave at the top of my game.”

  “You’re that confident about beating Hugo.”

  He gave me the cocky grin the magazines loved to photograph. “The boy is good. He’ll probably beat my record one day, but he’s not there. He knows it as much as I do.”

  I lifted a brow. “Then why’d you agree to this? I get the purse for this match is exorbitant, but you can live like Midas off your endorsements and past winnings for the rest of your life without ever touching the prize money from this match.”