Holding The Cards by Joey W. Hill Read Free Book Online

upon you."
    Thomas grew pale, but Lauren suspected she knew where the blood had gone by Marcus's appreciative chuckle. He eased forward again. Without any self-consciousness, he fondled his sub's groin, stroking the tightly packaged treasure there. "Keep your legs open for me," he said, so soft, but the steel of it thrummed through Lauren's own thighs. Her hand was tight on the rail, perspiration making her grasp slick.
    Such behavior was expected in a D/s Club, but unsettling for a novice. The boy was not used to this intense level of play, she could tell, and he was mesmerized and terrified by it, ready for it before he knew he was ready for it. Embracing it.
    "Are you mine, or not?" Marcus said, his voice an octave more stern. "Or do I need to whip you, to remind you who your Master is, and how quickly you should move to obey him?"
    Thomas pushed back his chair, muffling a groan as Marcus's skillful fingers gave him a hard stroke. He stood.
    "Keep your eyes on me, pet," Marcus settled back with his wine, "and it will not be so difficult. Or, perhaps you should watch the lovely Mistress in the balcony, who is being pleasured by the very sight of you."
    Thomas's gaze shifted up and met Lauren's. She let an appreciative smile toy on her lips, keeping her eyes steady and expectant upon him, though it startled her to know Marcus had known she was watching. Marcus lifted his glass to her and she inclined her head, but they both instantly turned their attention back to Thomas.
    He bit his lip, shrugged out of the coat.
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    "Slowly," Marcus barked, attracting the attention of two nearby tables. "You wish to please me, do you not? You have a beautiful body. Let them all enjoy watching it, but know it belongs only to me."
    A subtle message of where the line was drawn, Lauren noted with approval. Thomas let the coat fall to the chair and undid the tie, careful this time not to rush, his eyes back on Marcus.
    "It took me forever to tie this damn thing," he joked awkwardly.
    "I will help you put it back on, dear heart. Or perhaps I'll run it beneath your chair and tie your wrists so you are helpless to me during your meal, and I will feed you, and stroke your cock at my leisure. Would you like that?"
    Thomas stopped, his fingers hovering at the collar of his shirt, and met his Master's eyes. That silent moment, determining what he could bear and what he wanted. What he wanted was becoming rather plain, despite the generous cut of the elegant trousers.
    "I thought as much," Marcus said, his gaze following Lauren's and discomfiting Thomas further. "Perhaps that is what I should do. But for now, the shirt, please."
    Thomas darted a glance about, saw he definitely had the attention of the nearby tables. His fingers fumbled the first two buttons, but then he took a deep breath, met Marcus's gaze and held it, letting it encompass and steady him.
    It was always absorbing to Lauren, the way a man undressed; particularly when he was wearing formal wear. The way the crisp white shirt pulled over broad shoulders, how the starched button side curved like water along the contours of firm pectorals. The surprising delicacy of the wrist bones contrasting, in his case, with broad palms and long, capable fingers. Total male, total art. The dip of the head, the unconscious tense hold of the jaw as he worked the buttons free, the exposed nape. She wished she was standing close enough to inhale him, the soaps or colognes he used. Gay men knew how to enhance their own male scent so well, garnishing it with musks that underscored their masculinity, the blatant sexuality of it. Regardless of sexual preference, men were inherently primitive beings, and Lauren enjoyed them all the more for it. And watching a beautiful male such as this was like watching a work of art be formed under a Master's hand. It was an accurate description of what she was watching.
    He shrugged out of