Free Holding The Cards by Joey W. Hill

on a more serious point. "He was eager to please, never messing up, working for treats, regardless of whose hand gave them."
    Lauren's eyes darkened, but Maria kept on. "You were looking for the lion, the one who obeyed because he knew the reward for obedience was you. Not some treat from your hand, but you, everything, body, mind and soul. He knows he's bigger and stronger, but he'll concede your dominance and lower his eyes because you make him want to do it. Even so, he'll still occasionally test you, because that's the nature of the lion. That's what you were wanting, and that's the only thing that's going to work for you."

    * * * * *
Maria hadn't needed to tell her that finding that man would involve a game of high stakes.
    She took a bite herself, and her eyes fell shut as a savory marriage of onion, pepper, soy and a mysterious dash of other spices awoke her taste buds. "This is marvelous. How did you make something this good in a half hour?"
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    "Well, technically, you can reach orgasm in less than a minute, and think how wonderful that is," Marcus, pointed out.
    Josh grinned, and Lauren conceded the point with a wave of the fork. "I'm getting very little food here,"
    Josh nodded to the plate.
    Lauren snorted and slid another forkful of sautéed vegetables into his mouth. "Marcus, we're waiting for your wicked tale."
    "A wicked tale,” Marcus mused, took a chunk of French bread from the board on the table, and smiled.
    "The word itself calls it to mind. When I was seven, I had a dog named Winslow."
    "Winslow?" Josh turned his head and Lauren bumped the fork against his chin, splattering his left pectoral with brown sauce.
    "Oops," she took her index and middle fingers and wiped them over the spot, gathering up the moisture.
    Her fingernails scraped his warm skin. She caught one of the drips alongside his nipple and traced the curve as she scooped up the liquid. The crinkled skin around it became taut at her touch and she brought the fingers toward her lips.
    Josh reached out and manacled her wrist, pulling her fingers away from her mouth and taking them to his, drawing them into the warm cavern and sucking off the brown liquid, tracing his tongue lightly over the delicate skin between the two fingers. The movement of his tongue was not like the flick of a flame, but a slow pressure that rubbed each taste bud against the crevices of her finger joints like moist sand trickling over bare skin.
    Lauren managed not to swallow her own tongue, barely. She began to draw her hand away. Her heart bumped up into her throat when he did not respond to the pressure, holding her slim wrist captured in his grasp for the space of several irregular beats before his grip loosened. Lauren tapped her moistened finger against his bottom lip reprovingly. "It's my card, Josh. I'm feeding you."
    "It rather looked like that's what you were doing," Marcus observed dryly. "Do you want me to continue, or can I just enjoy the floorshow?"
    Josh chuckled and Lauren smiled at the way it took ten years off his serious face. "No," she tossed her hair back. "I want to hear the story about Winslow."
    "Winslow was a wonderful dog who unfortunately had a penchant for chasing cars."
    "That dog's name was not Winslow," Josh shifted his intense gaze off her, allowing Lauren to take a deep, steadying breath without his scrutiny. "No kid names their dog Winslow."
    "All right, if you insist on mundane authenticity, it was Petey."
    "Like the Little Rascals?"
    "Of course," Marcus sighed. "I suppose I was as monotonous and tritely cliched as all children. Petey was the best I could do."
    "Does he always play the world-weary urbanite?" Lauren asked.
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    Josh nodded. "Only in front of guests. Once he gets used to you, you'll see his real personality. Iowa farm boy."
    "No way," Lauren laughed at