Page 56 of Play Dirty

I grab his hair with both hands. Fist it, and the moment he opens his mouth, I force my way down his throat.

I do not hear his gagging, or his whimpering, or his choking.

Because I do not care.

He needs to learn so many lessons, and tonight’s lesson is crucial.

If he wants to dish it out, he needs to learn to take it too.

I press his face up to my stomach. I reach down, grab my balls, and lift them up to his mouth. Make him try to—no. Force him to fit them inside his mouth.

“Look at me,” I say, jerking his head as he pulls back to gasp for breath.

Alexander forces his eyes open and lifts them up to meet mine.

I have to wonder what’s going through his mind. Is the draw of that power over Augustine so overwhelming that he will put up with… this?

Obviously that answer is yes.

His face is red and blotchy, his eyes watering from the effort of not blinking.

I smile as I bend down, my cock slipping out of his mouth, allowing his stifled gasps of air to turn into long, deep inhalations.

I kiss him on the lips, waiting for him to kiss me back. It takes several seconds, but he finally does. It’s lacking the passion he had before I tried to throat-fuck him, but it’s an acceptable effort.

“Thank you,” I say, whispering the words past his lips. “That was very nice. Should we invite Augustine to join us?”

He backs off my kiss and turns his head to look at his wife.

She is shell-shocked. Eyes wide, hand between her legs pressed flat against her clit. Still now, like she stopped pleasuring herself at some point and forgot what she was doing.

I find that quite adorable.

“Yes or no?” I ask him. “I mean, I’m pretty sure we can have fun without her. So—”

“Yes,” Alexander says. “Come here, August.”

“Don’t move, Augustine,” I say. “He’s not in charge anymore. Understand?”

“Fuck you,” Alexander says. “She’s my wife.” I grip Alexander’s face hard. He resists this time, hands flying up, smacking against my forearms and breaking my hold. “She’s my fucking wife, Wells.”

“She might be,” I say. “But I’m her master now.”

“Just—” Augustine is standing now. “Just go along, Alexander. This is what you wanted too, remember? We need to find a way forward and this… this might be it. This might be our last chance.”

Alexander is near his limit tonight because he gets to his feet. I follow him and back off a few paces to give him the space he needs to think straight. Or… well, not straight. If this guy was thinking straight he’d have never brought his wife over here. Never come to Denver at all.

“Augustine,” I say, making a come-here motion with my finger.

She steps forward, slowly. Carefully. Like she might spook Alexander away.

She’s here for him. It’s so clearly written on her face right now, a little stab of pain shoots through my cold, black heart. She’s here to save him from himself. Even if it means she has to temporarily forgive me. Has to look past what I did to them. Has to bow to my sickness and games.

I’m just about to open my mouth and say enough—to stop this before it starts, to save her from herself—when she is close enough to me to take my hand.

Which she does. Carefully. Like I’m dangerous. Like I’m the wild animal in this room, and not her husband. Like I might explode and kill us all.

She looks up into my eyes, her expression going from blank and impassive to soft and seductive. Her hand comes up to my cheek and she smiles as she strokes me.