Page 26 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)

Twelve

MATT

M att awoke with the usual snap to alertness that had always served him well in his empire of lights and luck.

But today, the edges of his world seemed dipped in a more vibrant hue, the shadows chased away by the presence of the one who lay beside him.

Life before Andy was a painting magnificent yet static; life with Andy was like watching the colors dance.

He turned to observe the young man beside him, a silent exhale escaping his lips as he took in the sight.

Andy lay there, a vision of serene beauty amid the tangled sheets, gold-kissed by the morning sun streaming through the half-drawn curtains.

His ebony hair sprawled across the pillow like dark silk, framing his face—the light casting gentle glimmers of gold in his eyes even as they remained closed in slumber.

Matt marveled at how even unconscious, Andy could stir such fascination within him.

A glance at the clock told Matt he had time before his day truly began, and he intended to spend it indulging in his new favorite pastime. He leaned over, lips hovering just above Andy’s, drinking in the moment before committing to memory every contour of his sleeping companion’s face.

Matt then brushed a stray lock of hair from Andy’s forehead and began kissing him softly.

His lips touched Andy’s forehead first, featherlight and reverent.

Then he moved lower, pressing kisses along Andy’s temples, cheeks, and finally his lips.

Oh, those lips—soft yet firm, yielding yet strong. Matt savored each touch, each taste.

Andy stirred slightly but didn’t wake up.

That was just fine by Matt; he had more ground to cover.

His kisses traveled down to Andy’s throat, where he could feel the pulse beating steadily under his mouth.

He lingered there, tasting the faint saltiness of Andy’s skin mixed with the scent of sleep and something uniquely Andy.

Matt’s mouth continued its journey southward, planting kisses along Andy’s collarbone and down to his chest rising and falling with even breaths, to skin smooth but marked with love bites.

And there, like cherries ripe for plucking, were Andy’s nipples.

Cute? A word too innocent for what they sparked in Matt—a desire bordering on reverence.

Matt captured one with his mouth, his tongue teasing lightly at first, then with more purpose. The groan that rumbled from deep within Andy was music to Matt’s ears—low and husky and still tethered to dreams. Yet still, Andy did not wake.

That only encouraged Matt further. He continued teasing and toying with the nipple in his mouth while his fingers found its twin and began mimicking the same gentle torment.

With every lick and nip, Matt felt a rush of satisfaction course through him.

This was what mornings should be—filled with unhurried indulgence and intimate moments that turned time into something precious.

Matt lingered for a moment longer, savoring the reaction he drew from Andy’s chest. The nipple in his mouth had peaked into a rosy hardness, a testament to his skillful ministrations.

Reluctantly, he released it and trailed his lips lower, planting kisses down the toned plane of Andy’s abs, each one a step closer to the heat that beckoned him with silent siren calls.

Then he arrived at his ultimate destination.

There it was—a proclamation of desire, bold and unashamed even in slumber.

Matt paused, taking in the sight of Andy’s cock, a rush of amazement surged through him.

Even in sleep, Andy responded to his touch with such beautiful fervor.

The cock was indeed cute in its earnestness, yet there was nothing cute about what Matt intended to do next.

“Quite the morning glory you’ve got,” he murmured to himself with a chuckle. It seemed Andy’s body was just as eager to engage in their silent dialogue as Matt was.

Eyelids fluttered open above him—half-asleep, half-awake—and golden-brown eyes met his gaze. “You’re still a cocky bastard even in dreams,” Andy murmured, his voice rough with sleep and something else—desire?

Matt couldn’t help but flash a devilish grin at that comment. Oh, if only Andy knew this was no dream.

Matt chuckled around Andy’s cock before pulling off briefly.

“Dreams? Oh sweetheart, this is far better than any dream.” Then he dove back in with renewed vigor, sucking and licking with an intensity that made Andy shudder beneath him.

Matt could feel every tremor, every twitch of pleasure coursing through Andy’s body.

When he felt the familiar tension building in Andy’s length, he doubled down on his efforts, sucking harder.

Andy came with a strangled cry, and Matt drank down every drop of his release, savoring it like fine wine. He then moved quickly but carefully, repositioning Andy so that he sat on his lap, back pressed firmly against his broad chest, their hard cocks lined up perfectly.

With Andy nestled in his embrace, Matt began stroking both their cocks with a leisurely, deliberate rhythm.

Each slow stroke brought a wave of pleasure, making Andy squirm and sigh against him.

The younger man was so docile like this, pliant and responsive.

Matt couldn’t help but find him utterly adorable—a side of Andy he hadn’t anticipated but now relished.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said.

Andy hummed a response, a vibration against Matt’s chest that sent a shiver down his spine. With lips brushing Andy’s ear, he couldn’t resist the urge to tease. “So I’m a cocky bastard?”

A shiver racked Andy’s frame, deliciously drowsy, still caught in the tether between dreams and wakefulness.

He snuggled closer, his face buried in the warmth of Matt’s chest as if seeking shelter, his voice muffled but clear enough to hear.

“Not just a cocky bastard,” he murmured, “but arrogant, insufferable, insatiable, and infuriating.”

A chuckle rumbled deep within Matt’s chest, vibrating through to Andy’s cheek. He increased the pace of his stroking just a bit, enough to draw out a soft groan from Andy. The young man squirmed even more, every movement adding to Matt’s own pleasure.

“And yet,” Andy continued, his voice strained with rising pleasure, “you’re the cocky bastard who rocks my world.”

Matt raised an eyebrow at that declaration. “I rock your world?”

Andy nodded weakly, then turned to capture Matt’s lips in a kiss. That was all the invitation Matt needed. He plunged his tongue into Andy’s mouth, deepening the kiss with an urgency that matched the pace of his strokes.

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, hips grinding against each other as Matt’s hand worked them both toward climax. Each stroke was an exploration of pleasure—a map they both knew well yet discovered anew every time.

Andy shuddered first, moaning into Matt’s mouth as he came hard. The sound and feel of it pushed Matt over the edge as well; he came with a groan that reverberated through both their bodies.

Spent but sated, Andy fell back into deep sleep almost immediately after his orgasm subsided. His breathing evened out, soft and steady against Matt’s chest.

Matt couldn’t help but laugh softly at how quickly Andy drifted off again. He pressed another kiss to Andy’s temple and pulled him closer, relishing the warmth of their shared post-climactic glow.

Moments later, with reluctance threading through his veins, Matt carefully disentangled himself from Andy’s slumberous embrace.

The sight of him, so peaceful, so damned irresistible in repose, almost convinced Matt to call in sick—a billionaire’s version of playing hooky.

But empires, especially those built on sin and spectacle, didn’t run themselves.

Matt laid Andy back on the bed and tucked him in, ensuring comfort would cradle him in Matt’s absence. A shower beckoned next—hot, steamy rivulets washing away the remnants of their dawn dalliance.

When he emerged from the shower, Matt was every inch the man who commanded boardrooms and brokered fortunes.

His suit was cut so sharply it could slice through stock market indices.

It clung to his form with an intimacy reserved for lovers or Italian tailors of repute.

The tie—a bold stripe that screamed confidence without uttering a sound.

Before departing, he leaned over Andy once more, pressing a kiss to his forehead that lingered like a promise. He scribbled a note quickly but with care: Take it easy, gorgeous. I’ll see you at dinner after work.

Outside the penthouse, Bruno stood as immovable as fate itself.

“Contact me if anything happens,” Matt said with a tilt of his head toward the closed door behind him.

Bruno nodded once—a movement as efficient as it was understood, no words wasted between men who traded in actions.

In his office, Matt found himself swallowed by the voracious beast called work. Emails stacked upon meetings perched upon calls in an endless game of corporate Jenga. His attention danced from spreadsheets to strategy sessions with the grace of a ballet dancer doing taxes—elegant yet exacting.

Lunch arrived with the understated opulence that marked everything in Matt’s world. The plate before him bore culinary artistry—a lobster bisque that whispered tales of the sea and a steak seared to such perfection it could’ve been deemed an eighth wonder.

Matt spared a moment to savor a bite that melted on his tongue like butter on a hot skillet before diving back into the fray. Time was currency in his realm—and lunch was merely a luxurious pit stop in his race against it. Between bites, he dialed James’ number.

James picked up on the second ring. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Caine himself.” James’ voice carried that familiar edge of mockery.

“And here I thought you’d be too busy counting your money,” Matt retorted smoothly.

“Counting yours is more entertaining,” James quipped back without missing a beat.

Matt chuckled, savoring their banter like fine wine. “How’s that latest venture treating you?”

“Let’s just say it’s keeping me entertained,” James replied, then shifted gears as smoothly as Matt himself did when driving one of his luxury cars. “But I assume you didn’t call just for my sparkling company.”

“You assume correctly,” Matt said, glancing at his watch before leaning back in his chair. “Wanted to update you on our mutual interest. You’ll be pleased to know I have our dear Andy tucked away safely. Your young debtor is quite the handful.”

“That’s good,” James replied.

Matt asked, “How are you going about retrieving that elusive two million? Last I checked, Andy’s pockets were more barren than a desert.”

James chuckled. “That’s the million-dollar question—or should I say two million? I’m touching base with his sister Mia Donovan.” James’ voice held the smooth assurance of a man used to getting his way. “Negotiations, you know.”

Matt tapped a finger on the mahogany desk—a drumbeat to his thoughts. “You think his sister is sitting on a gold mine? From what I’ve gathered, she’s more likely to offer us her piggy bank contents. Look, I’ll pay off Andy’s debt myself. Consider it an investment in… future potential.”

A bark of laughter erupted from James’ end. “Investment? Or has our dear Andy put some sort of spell on you?”

Matt grinned, leaning forward. “If by spell you mean there’s a spark… Yes, he lights up something fierce within me.” He admitted it with a casualness that belatedly surprised even himself.

“Ah,” James said knowingly. “I see you’ve been keeping busy in more ways than one.”

“Yes, well,” Matt continued, undeterred by the implication. “I’m also sponsoring Andy’s app development. It shows promise.”

“Good on you,” James replied with genuine approval. “It has potential.”

“Keep me posted on how things go with Mia,” Matt said. “And let me know if you decide to accept my offer.”

“I will,” James assured him before the call ended.

Matt hung up and leaned back once more, staring at the skyline but seeing only Andy’s face—defiant yet so very captivating—etched in his mind’s eye like a tattoo he’d never regret.