It all started as a little competition between us, one that was never really about winning or losing. He’s always had this intense, focused look in his eyes that made my heart race every time we locked gazes. So when I suggested a game of poker with a little twist, I knew what I was getting into… or at least, I thought I did.

The stakes? My complete submission if I lost, or his if I won. The catch? He’s a seasoned player, and I… well, let’s just say I’ve never won a hand in my life. But the idea of losing on purpose sent a rush of excitement through me. I played along, pretending to give it my best, while secretly making sure each card I picked led me closer to defeat.

When I finally lost, his grin was dark and victorious. “Strip,” he said softly, his voice commanding without a hint of hesitation. I shivered, biting my lip, but did as I was told. Every piece of clothing I took off felt like a small surrender, and by the time I was bare in front of him, I could barely keep my legs steady.

He leaned back, watching me with that predatory look, and I knew that any illusion of control I thought I had was long gone. “On your knees,” he murmured, and I felt a surge of arousal as I knelt before him, completely exposed.

He didn’t touch me, didn’t move. He just looked down at me, his gaze devouring every inch of my body. “Beg,” he said softly, and a thrill shot through me. I whispered my pleas, telling him how badly I wanted him, how I’d do anything just to feel him against me.

He took his time, making me squirm under his scrutiny until finally, his hand tightened in my hair, yanking my head back. “If you’re going to act like a desperate slut,” he murmured, voice dripping with dark intent, “then I’m going to fuck you like one.”

With a rough tug, he pulled me onto the bed, flipping me onto my stomach with a strength that made my heart race. The next thing I knew, his hand cracked across my ass, sending a shock of pain and pleasure coursing through me. I gasped, clenching the sheets, my entire body trembling as he spanked me again, then again, each slap harder than the last.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the reddened skin. “So fucking eager. I bet you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” I breathed, my voice shaking. “Anything.”

“Good,” he growled. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”

The next thing I felt was his fingers sliding between my legs, teasing me until I was squirming, desperate for more. But he didn’t give in. No, he kept me on the edge, bringing me close only to pull away, over and over, until I was panting, begging him to just take me.

When he finally did, plunging into me with one hard thrust, I couldn’t hold back the cry that tore from my throat. He was relentless, driving into me with a force that made my entire body quake. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure and pain crashing through me, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it.

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice low and rough, and I shattered. My release ripped through me, leaving me a trembling mess beneath him. But he didn’t stop. He kept going, pushing me further and further until I was gasping, sobbing, begging for mercy.

When he finally came, filling me with a low groan, I was completely spent, my body limp and aching. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

And in that moment, I knew he was right. I’d lost more than just a game tonight—I’d lost myself to him.