Stevie wriggled until Hank’s finger was in past the second knuckle. When Hank tired of the game, he withdrew his finger and shifted himself until the head of his cock was nestled between the boy’s cheeks.
As he eased himself inside, Stevie gasped, “You’re so big and hard, Sir.”
Hank didn’t give the boy a chance to adjust. Let him earn his fee. Let him suffer. Hank took hold of the boy’s hips and thrust inside him, desperate for release, for oblivion.
“Ease up,” Stevie cried, no longer sounding quite so girlish. “It’s too much, man.”
Lust blended with fury at Stevie’s audacity. Hank let go of one hip so he could grab a handful of Stevie’s hair, which he used to yank back his head. “Thought you were a total pain slut, boy. You want your tip, you gotta earn it.”
“Yes, Sir,” Stevie gasped. He was the same as everyone else in the world—he could be bought and sold if the price was right.
The image of that loser, Luca, staring with those big cow eyes at Reese, rudely intruded into Hank’s brain. He rammed Stevie hard. As Stevie cried out, Hank reached around his narrow body, closed his hand around his swinging balls, and squeezed.
“Ah,” Stevie cried. “That hurts, Sir.”
Hank squeezed harder. “Good. Just focus on the money, boy.”
“Yes, Sir,” Stevie gasped.
Hank rutted a while longer, still gripping the delicate plums of Stevie’s testicles in his hand. Eventually bored with the torture, Hank let go and reached for Stevie’s throat. He wrapped his fingers around Stevie’s long, graceful neck, gripping hard just below the jaw.
“Oh,” Stevie moaned. “I love to be choked, Sir.”
Hank didn’t care what Stevie loved, but he got off on the control. He held Stevie fast by the throat as he slammed his cock into his ass. He was in the groove now. He was in the zone…
Finally, his mind emptied into white, hot blankness as he was at last able to lose himself in the pure physicality of the moment. He was nothing but a cock, and this boy nothing but a hole to be ravaged, plundered and controlled.
Hank moved like a piston inside him, his hand still around Stevie’s throat. After a while, Stevie started to struggle, trying to twist away, but Hank was by far the stronger of the two. It was only when Stevie bucked against him that Hank came to his senses and released the boy’s throat, though he remained buried to the hilt inside him.
Stevie drew in a huge, rasping breath. Twisting back, his eyes wild, he demanded, “What the fuck’re you doin’, man? You almost choked me out! I didn’t sign up for this. Let me up.”
Power ripped through Hank’s blood like pure cocaine. “I’ll let you up when I’m done with you,” he snarled. “You want your tip, you keep your mouth shut and do your job.” He punctuated his command with an especially savage thrust and Stevie grunted in pain.
Hank’s balls tightened and he could feel the semen rising. The rush of his absolute control over the twink blended with the rage that seethed just below the surface. “Take it, Reese,” he grunted as he finally climaxed. “I own you. You’re mine.”
After a moment, he let go of Stevie and pulled out. Stevie sagged down to the carpet, his pale body covered in a sheen of sweat, his face hidden in a tangle of hair. For a brief moment, the constant stranglehold of anger that had claimed Hank since Reese’s defection eased its clutch. He felt almost happy. Getting to his feet, he disposed of the used condom and pulled on his jeans.
Stevie hadn’t moved.
Hank prodded him with his bare foot. “Hey. Get up.”
The guy rolled slowly over onto his back. He was frowning, his pale eyebrows drawn down to form a V over narrowed eyes. “You hurt me,” he whined.
Hank smiled and shrugged. “You took it like a man, Stevie. I’ll be calling for you by name next time.” He dropped three hundred-dollar bills onto Stevie’s stomach. Though he continued to frown, Stevie closed his fists around the bills.
With the boy sent away and several fingers of Remy Martin 1738 Cognac coursing its way through his veins, Hank fell into his bed at last, refusing to let regret and loss worm their way back into his consciousness. Reese had left him. Big fucking deal. He’d find someone new. Plenty more fish in the sea.
He closed his eyes, drifting at last into a hard-won sleep.
Romance Unbound Publishing
Dangerous Games
Games of the Heart - Book 1
Claire Thompson
Edited by
Donna Fisk & Jae Ashley
Fine Line Edit – Gabriella Wolek, Linda Marie, Janice Owen
Cover Art by Mayhem Cover Creations
Based on the novel Wicked Hearts, vastly revised and expanded
© Copyright 2019 Claire Thompson
The Shape of Your Body © Ed Sheeran 2019
All rights reserved
Dangerous Games Page 21