No Holds Barred by Paris Brandon Page B

scared little flip that she’d finally gone too far.
    “Why hasn’t anyone ever locked you in a tower before and turned you into their love slave?”
    “Probably because I’ve never told anyone the things I’ve told you,” she said softly, her heart careening into a different rhythm, thrumming in her ears.
    He flipped the sketch pad closed, threw it on the rug by his chair, and ripped the condom packet open with his teeth. She stretched again as he stalked toward her. She lifted her arms but instead of coming down he straddled the narrow chaise, dragged her legs toward him flipping them up over his thighs before he grabbed her hips and guided himself into her. There was nothing to do but hold on, clutch the sides of the chaise and give herself up to Jake’s furious thrust, watch his eyes glitter with need, desire.
    Afterward, he lowered them both to the couch, waited until her tremors subsided then began again, slowly, methodically. As his hair brushed over her breasts Ella’s only coherent thought was that Jake Truhorn was addictive. And instead of frightening her she found it exciting.
    They walked back to the house carrying their clothes, letting the late September breeze cool them until Ella shivered. Jake scooped her up and carried her into the house, slamming the door shut with his foot before putting her down and kissing her senseless.
    “How do you feel about games?” he asked and his B-movie evil genius grin was back.
    “What haven’t we played yet?” she laughed, holding onto his broad shoulders, happier than she could ever remember being.
    “Sex toy poker.”
    * * * * *
    Jake had made it up, down to the hand-lettered white tiles that a friend had fired for him, stacked inside an ornately carved box he’d bought in a market in Marrakesh. He shuffled the tiles around on top of the glossy black coffee table while she finished drying off from her shower. He’d already assembled his “chips” and poured them each a glass of wine by the time she hurried up the stairs to retrieve her toys.
    “You know I’ve had a lot of years to collect these things don’t you?” she called from the loft bedroom before he heard her on the stairs coming back down.
    “Antique sex toys are worth double the points,” he said easily before he thought better of it.
    She only laughed. “I am so going to beat the pants off of you.”
    “That would be strip poker, my love.” He turned and flashed a cheeky smile right before his mouth went dry. She was wearing only a long white bath sheet tied toga style around her shoulder that would have appeared much more chic if she hadn’t been carrying a dark black sack with girly pink letters too twisted to make out.
    She sat down, opening the sack. The first toy she drew out was a slim pink jelly dildo that she snapped into a black leather harness.
    He squirmed before he could stop himself. “Where the hell did you get that?”
    “I won it at one of those sexy lingerie parties. What do you think?”
    He shook his head. “I’ll let you know as soon as some of my blood rushes back to my brain.”
    “So, what are the rules tonight?”
    “First hand is standard draw, second lowball and the third is you play the hand you’re dealt. Two out of three gets first pick of the toys and how they’re used.”
    “So what are the tiles for?”
    “The tiles are a guideline for the bet. No tiles required for the ante.”
    She grinned and placed a pair of silver nipple clamps on the gleaming surface of the coffee table. He matched it with a bottle of vanilla massage oil, shuffled the cards, mint-condition peek-a-boo nudes circa 1950 and dealt the first hand.
    She drew one card and the edge of her lip curled. He drew three, completed a flush, all spades and picked up a tile. Get lost in a dream, relive a wicked scene. Jake slid a DVD, its black and white hand-drawn cover, definitely art-house. The Quiet Maid was a silent erotic thriller, modern film noir.
    Ella saw his movie with The