Page 77 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)
Thirty-One
MATT
U nable to resist such delicious audacity, Matt burst out laughing and pulled Andy close, planting a firm kiss on those smart-mouthed lips. Andy’s squeal of delight quickly morphed into a pained yelp that reminded Matt that his feisty firecracker was still more bruised than a clearance sale peach.
“Whoa there, Eager McBeaver,” Matt murmured, gentling his grip and cupping Andy’s face. “Ten minutes. I’ll double your time limit since you’re so… ambitious with that mouth of yours.”
Andy’s smirk could’ve powered the entire Las Vegas Strip. “Keep your charity, Mr. Moneybags. Five minutes is all I need to make you see stars without your penthouse view.” Then, with a theatrical ‘mwah’ that would put Broadway to shame, he began his southbound expedition.
Each kiss was like a winning poker hand, calculated to make Matt fold.
Andy’s tongue wrote promises that would make a romance novelist blush, turning Matt’s body into his personal playground.
When he reached Matt’s nipples, alternating between kitten licks and love bites, Matt’s groans could’ve registered on the Richter scale.
Matt watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Andy worked his way down, that clever tongue mapping his abs like they were the lost city of El Dorado. His fingers tangled in Andy’s hair, each muscle twitching like it was auditioning for a dance show.
When Andy finally reached ground zero, he stared at Matt’s impressive equipment with all the wide-eyed innocence of a cat in a canary shop. “Well, well, well,” he breathed, “looks like someone’s ready to make a substantial deposit. Five minutes is all it’ll take to empty this particular account.”
Matt’s laughter rumbled like thunder. “Care to put your money where your mouth is, sweetheart?”
“Oh, I’ll put something where my mouth is,” Andy shot back with a grin sharp enough to cut diamonds. “Five minutes or less, guaranteed delivery.”
“Try half an hour,” Matt countered, enjoying how Andy’s eyes bulged like he’d just suggested they relocate the Bellagio fountain to Mars.
“You’re not serious.”
“Dead serious,” Matt purred, his thumb tracing Andy’s bottom lip like it was fine art. “What’s wrong? Performance anxiety?”
“I’ll show you performance,” Andy declared with the determination of a caffeine-addicted student during finals week. But when he opened wide for the main event, his ambition wrote a check his gag reflex couldn’t cash—managing only the tip before his eyes started watering like a fountain show.
Matt chuckled fondly, stroking Andy’s hair. “Easy there, Speed Racer,” he soothed, voice warm with affection and amusement. “This isn’t the Indy 500. We’ve got all night for you to work on your… oral presentations.”
Andy’s determination blazed brighter than the Vegas skyline. “This is definitely a time thing,” Andy declared with the confidence of a card counter at a blackjack table. “Five minutes or less, Mr. Billionaire. Welcome to Andy’s Express—where satisfaction is guaranteed or your money back.”
Andy dove back in with the fervor of a man trying to win the World Series of Oral, his pride on the line and his mouth working overtime.
His lips wrapped around Matt’s cock like he was trying to win a gold medal in dedication, his tongue conducting a symphony of pleasure that would’ve made Mozart jealous.
Matt watched, utterly captivated by the sight of Andy between his legs.
So fucking adorable in his concentration, Andy’s pretty gold-brown eyes glanced up occasionally with a determination that could’ve powered the entire Strip.
Each flick and swirl of his tongue sent sparks through Matt’s system like a slot machine hitting the jackpot, while those clever hands played Matt’s body like a perfectly tuned instrument.
Andy’s performance was nothing short of spectacular—a blur of wet heat and eager enthusiasm that had Matt’s toes curling into the sheets.
But like the House, Matt never lost his edge.
Fifteen minutes ticked by, and Andy finally released him with a wet pop, panting like he’d just sprinted the length of the Strip in July.
“This is ridiculous,” Andy huffed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re cheating somehow. What did you do, swallow a bottle of Viagra? Or is this some sort of billionaire-exclusive endurance upgrade I don’t know about?”
Gathering his exhausted firecracker into his arms, Matt couldn’t suppress his triumphant grin. “Looks like I win the bet,” he purred, voice rich with affection. “Time to collect my winnings. That’s how gambling works, or did they not cover that in Blow Jobs 101?”
Andy squirmed in his embrace like a cat being told it’s bath time. “Funny, I don’t remember signing any contract about prizes. Did you slip that clause in while I was busy trying to suck your soul out through your cock?”
“That’s true,” Matt conceded, his hands mapping Andy’s body like a favorite territory. “But since it’s a bet, the winner has to claim something. House rules, baby. Even the penny slots pay out eventually.”
“Fine,” Andy huffed with mock exasperation. “What’s your pleasure then, Casino Royale? Want me to comp you a room?”
Matt’s answer was a slow, wicked smile. “How about we finish off making each other come together? The sun’s about to crash our party, and unlike some unemployed oral enthusiasts I know, I actually have an empire to run today.”
Andy’s eager nod could’ve given a bobblehead doll competition.
Matt moved with ease, positioning Andy on all fours before enveloping him from behind like a living blanket of muscle and heat.
He slipped his cock between Andy’s thighs, groaning at the perfect friction as he wrapped his hand around Andy’s eager length.
“This is nice,” Matt murmured against Andy’s nape, his voice a low growl. “Squeeze those thighs tighter for me, baby. Yeah… good boy.”
As they moved together in a rhythm that would’ve made dance instructors jealous, Andy managed to ask between gasps, “You really don’t want anything else for winning? No trophy? No victory lap around the penthouse?”
“So you want to get me something else?” Matt teased, nipping at Andy’s ear. “Careful there, tiger. Last time someone offered me a consolation prize, I ended up owning half the Strip. But we can definitely… negotiate terms after this performance review.”
Matt claimed Andy’s lips with the intensity of a desert storm, his kiss hard and deep as if trying to merge their souls.
The taste of Andy was more intoxicating than the finest whiskey in his casino’s vault, and the little sounds he made were sweeter than any jackpot chime.
His hand worked Andy’s cock with the precision of a master craftsman, each stroke a deliberate symphony designed to drive his lover wild.
Their bodies moved together in a perfect dance—a wild, passionate rhythm that had them both spiraling toward oblivion.
The friction between Andy’s thighs was exquisite torture, the heat of their bodies mingling like the perfect blend of pleasure and need.
Matt’s thrusts grew hotter and harder, his hand matching the tempo as if he was trying to set a new world record.
Each stroke of Matt’s hand was calculated to drive Andy crazy—a slide up, a twist at the crown, a gentle squeeze that had Andy gasping and arching beneath him. The tension built between them like a gathering storm, each move bringing them closer to the edge of paradise.
When they finally came, it was like the world exploded into stardust—a maelstrom of sensation that left them clinging to each other as if they could stop time itself.
Matt felt the shudder that ran through Andy’s body, heard the moan that spilled from those well-kissed lips, and knew this was better than all his billions combined.
Spent and sated, Andy collapsed onto the bed, sprawling out like a cat that got both the cream and the canary. Matt followed him down, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of Andy’s neck before rolling them over so Andy lay atop him, their sweat-slicked skin creating the perfect slide of limbs.
“Well, that was worth every torturous second of celibacy,” Matt murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Just wait until you’re fully healed, pet. I’ll show you what a week of pent-up creativity can really do.” He squeezed Andy’s ass appreciatively, earning a delightful wiggle in response.
Andy’s chuckle vibrated against Matt’s chest. “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about the ties and light bondage, Mr. Control Freak,” he reminded with a wicked glint in his eye.
“After how you tortured me last time, I’ve been taking notes.
Consider this your official notice—revenge will be served hot, bothered, and thoroughly tied up. ”
Matt threw his head back and laughed, the sound bouncing off the penthouse walls. “Looking forward to being at your mercy,” he purred, capturing those teasing lips in another kiss that promised future delights. “Should I update my insurance policy first?”
With one final, lingering caress, Matt rolled Andy onto his back and swung his legs out of bed. His muscles sang with postcoital bliss as he stretched, fully aware of Andy’s appreciative gaze on his naked form. “Time for this workaholic to earn his keep,” he announced, heading for the shower.
“No rest for the wicked, huh?” Andy called out sarcastically, propping himself up on his elbows like a debauched angel. “What’s on today’s agenda? World domination? Corrupting more innocent boys?”
Matt shot him a roguish grin over his shoulder. “World domination’s on hold—got a board meeting at ten. As for corrupting…” His eyes sparkled with promise. “Between the two of us, you’re definitely the one with the PhD in wickedness, sweetheart.”