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

the shirt, so nervous he forgot about the cuffs. When he realized he was stuck, his arms trapped at his sides in the sleeves, he made to slide the shirt back onto his shoulders to remedy the situation.
    "No," Marcus stopped him. "I'll do the rest."
    He reached forward, slid the belt tongue from its loop and through the buckle. His elegant wrists brushed the top of Thomas's erection beneath the pants, and Thomas sucked in a breath. A smile played on Marcus's lips, acknowledging Thomas's torture, his internal war between embarrassment and desire.
    He worked the belt free of the tooth and then unhooked the trousers, lowering the zipper no more than an inch or two, just so the fine summer wool would drop lower on the young man's slim hips. He appeared to be wearing black briefs, perhaps thong or Brazilian cut, and his abdomen was well defined.
    "Put your hands at your sides," Marcus instructed, noticing how Thomas had his elbows bent, his hands reflexively clenched up near his waist. Marcus's gaze flicked over the neighboring tables, and up to Lauren.
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    "Is he not beautiful?"
    There was a heated murmur of assent, and the back of Thomas's neck, exposed by his closely cropped hair, flushed even redder under gazes of appreciative desire.
    Marcus nodded, and sat back to take a sip from his wine glass. He studied his companion, allowing Lauren and the other diners a leisurely perusal. The waiter came back, refilled Marcus's glass, not looking at Thomas, though he stood between the two men for a moment. Thomas waited, suffering and aroused, while Marcus took another drink, sat the glass back down, touched a napkin to his lips. Then he lifted the gold chain from the table and leaned forward.
    He ran it around Thomas's lean bare waist, adjusting the length so it indeed rode low on Thomas's hip bones, and left a fine double strand about two inches long hanging below the fastening, which appeared to be a flat engraved disk.
    Thomas's head bent, nuzzling Marcus's fall of hair, his fingers clenching with the obvious desire to touch."There, now," Marcus slid the chain around, adjusting it so the dangling tips lay in that indentation where the spine ended and the vulnerable separation of buttocks began. "Once fastened as I have fastened it, it can only be unlocked by a key," he held it up for Thomas's inspection before placing it in his pocket. "But it is not unbreakable." Marcus's eyes were steady. "Should you ever desire to cast away your bindings, then you need only break the chain and leave it where I can find it. You understand? And there will be nothing messy between us. I will accept it as your farewell, and wish you nothing but joy and happiness. The engraving on the lock is simple," he palmed the disk, his fingers caressing Thomas's heated skin, and held the gold oval up for his inspection. "Mine."
    Things had become very still at the surrounding tables during Marcus's speech. It was the point in the game they all knew, shared and sought. It was that moment when, even if there were a hundred others in the room, it was just the two of them. Thomas suddenly leaned forward, pressed his lips to Marcus's. It was a touch of lips only, as his arms were still bound by his shirt. Lauren saw the curve of spine, the slope of his buttocks in the loose ride of the pants. Thomas lifted his head, adoration shining from them.
    "Yes, Master."
    "Well, then." Marcus cleared his throat after a moment. He stood up and adjusted the shirt back on Thomas's shoulders, buttoning it down the lean chest, his fingers caressing, his face only an inch from his lover's. He was not touching him in any overtly sexual way, but the act of redressing him, not allowing him to tend himself, was expressive in its eroticism. Lauren felt damp all over, in and out. His hips brushed Thomas's aroused crotch with casual indifference, but not inattention.
    Marcus refastened the trousers, belted