Crossing Lines Chapter 84

**Noah**

Holy shit.

If I’d thought my *outfit* was the big event of the evening, I was dead wrong. In the short time we’d been at the club, Aiden had been offered a damn job as a Master, I’d been “invited” to play with what might as well have been the goddess of Olympus, *and* I’d just been branded with a video game name. Half hour down… a few more to go.

And my cock—trapped and furious in its cage—was ready to file an official complaint.

Master Hale clapped Aiden on the shoulder, his voice warm. “Mr. A, we’re gathering in the game hall. Monthly poker. I’d be honored if you and your boy joined us.”

Poker. Great. Because being collared and crawling in front of a crowd wasn’t humiliating enough—I was about to be a party trick at a card table too.

“Yes,” Aiden answered smoothly, like this was the most natural thing in the world. “We’d be happy to.”

To my absolute dismay, I watched Luna and her Master move to join us. Her silver fishnet clung to her like it was welded on, every step she took calculated. And me? I wanted to sink into the floor.

Her Master—sharp-eyed and smug—smiled thin. “I hope you don’t mind if we sit in. Luna loves to observe.”

Of course she did. Of course she was going to sit there with those amber eyes flicking my way every chance she got, while my brain and my dick teamed up to make my life miserable.

We were led to Hale’s favorite poker table. I crawled at Aiden’s side, struggling to keep pace, my knees already screaming from the marble floor. By the time he sat, I was panting, my cage tight, but I stayed at his feet like I belonged there—and mostly because I was freaking out a little around all these people.

Eyes turned instantly. Comments, whispers, a laugh or two. I felt the heat of their stares crawling over me.

“Welcome, Mr. A,” one of the men drawled, chips clicking between his fingers. “And who is this beauty you’ve brought to heel?”

“This is his gorgeous sub, Xion,” Master Hale volunteered.

The woman to Aiden’s right reached out, dragging a long, lacquered nail slow down my spine, stopping just above the thong strap. “Exquisite. Pale and smooth like alabaster…”

My breath hitched. I stayed still, jaw clenched, pretending it didn’t make every nerve fire.

Then the man on the left leaned forward with a grin. “Let’s see if he’s as flawless everywhere else…” His hand shifted lower, fingers brushing dangerously close, trying to slip between my cheeks—

I flinched hard, head snapping up to Aiden.

“Hands off,” Aiden said, his voice sharp enough to cut. The leash jerked tight, pulling me up until I was kneeling, his grip in my hair. His gaze swept the table with that deadly calm of his. “He’s mine. No one touches him.”

Heat burned in my chest, hotter than the shame. Pride. Because I was his. All his.

Aiden tugged me closer, brushed his mouth over mine—a soft kiss, firm enough to stake a claim—and I melted into it despite the eyes. God, I wanted to crawl under the table, between his legs, anywhere just to belong to him.

The game started. Cards slapped, chips clinked, whiskey glasses filled and emptied. The air was thick with smoke and money, talk bouncing across the table about stocks, politics, and bullshit I barely understood.

I tried to keep up, to listen. It was weird—hearing Masters laugh like “ordinary” men, talking about their jobs, their wives, their lives outside these walls. Some wore crisp uniforms, others expensive suits. I spotted a few wedding rings gleaming under the lights. Lust clearly didn’t give a damn about professions or vows.

I knelt silent, a fixture at Aiden’s feet, my cock throbbing miserably in its cage. Every so often, someone’s eyes dragged down to me. I knew what they saw: Mr. A’s boy. A display. A pet.

Across the table, movement caught my eye. Luna—kneeling at her Master’s side—tilted her head, her lips forming a silent “*Are you okay*?” under the table’s edge.

My chest tightened. I took a deep, shaky breath and gave the smallest nod, mouthing back, “*I’m okay.*”

Halfway into the game, Aiden laid down a hand strong enough to make the table murmur. He didn’t gloat—just leaned back, collected his winnings with the kind of quiet authority that shut everyone else up.

Then, out of nowhere, he tugged the leash and pulled me up, straight to his mouth. His lips crashed over mine, sudden and claiming. Heat flared through me. For one dizzy second, I forgot the table, forgot the audience—I just kissed him back. Hard.

A ripple of laughter and low encouragement ran around us. Someone called, “That’s it, Mr. A, show him off.”

My face burned under the mask. Aiden’s tongue pressed into my mouth, his hand firm on the back of my neck. The kiss deepened, shameless, until my cock felt like it might split the cage—and so would Aiden’s.

When he finally broke the kiss, lips brushing mine, I crawled back to take my stance at his right side.

The exchange—and the fire still flickering in Aiden’s eyes—must’ve caught Master Roman’s attention. His voice slid across the table, smooth as oil. “Luna, love, perhaps you’d like to congratulate Mr. A for that hand… and welcome him properly?”

What?

*The hell she is.*

Before Aiden could even open his mouth, I scrambled forward on instinct, crawling straight between his legs. Without asking—and obviously without thinking—I parked myself directly in front of his crotch like a human barricade, shooting Luna my best *don’t you fucking dare* glare.

By the time reality smacked me—realizing exactly what I’d just done—it was too late.

Aiden’s gaze burned down into me. Controlled. Dangerous. Almost amused.

“Thank you for the kind offer,” he said smoothly, eyes still on me, “but it seems my submissive is… extremely eager tonight. And I’d hate to deny him.”

Oh, fuck.

Then, with deliberate calm, he slid his hand into my hair and pressed me down.

Down, toward his belt.

My heart slammed.

He unbuckled with one hand, still holding his cards with the other. The zipper parted, the thick heat of him filling my vision. I glanced up, breathless. He gave the slightest nod.

I obeyed.

My hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slow, reverent. My tongue flicked over the head, teasing, tasting salt and power.

“That’s it, my boy,” he murmured, low enough for just me, even as he threw in chips with his free hand. “Now take it slow… keep me warm.”

Shame clawed at me. Everyone knew. Everyone could see. But fuck if I was gonna let anybody else get between my man’s legs….

I slid down on him, lips sealing tight, taking him inch by inch. He sighed, almost lazily, and card chatter resumed as if nothing obscene were happening under the table.

I worked him with my mouth—slow, gentle suctions, tongue tracing along his length. He threaded his fingers into my hair, tugging occasionally, a silent command to adjust my pace.

Here and there, he rewarded me with a soft groan, a hand ruffling through my curls like I was his favorite pet. Each sound went straight to my chest, flooding me with that dangerous mix of humiliation and bliss.

The table roared when another man caught a lucky hand, but I barely heard it. My world had narrowed to one thing—him, in my mouth, owning me completely while the world watched.