”"Why? If you already know, why must I say those words?" Because it will turn me on."We were stumbling into a new game; the roles were reversing. Her submission lit a fire in me and I felt a surge of power. I was stronger and demanding, more dominant with her. We were playing off each other's secret desires and, instinctively, I pushed her, believing she wanted me to break her will.Faith's eyes grew wide and she quivered under my gaze. The game had taken an unexpected twist and she struggled with her shyness for a long moment before finally wilting under my stare. "I want you to fuck me."My blood instantly boiled at her admission and I pressed my lips to hers, kissing her hard. Faith's arms encircled my neck and she kissed with an equal passion. The chemistry we shared flared between us and I was tempted to take her right there, against the wall. But I was determined to have her on my own terms and I relented."Take me to your bedroom,” I told her between kisses. She groaned softly. As they spoke, Mike listened, and was able to at least learn their names. The old man was named Roger. The other three black haired men were his sons. The first son – Alan – was the largest. He towered over everyone else, his gut distended with a beer belly. His black hair was greasy and thick atop his head. His face was an angry red and spotty. He might have been at least reasonably handsome, if he took care of himself.The second son – James – was the handsomest, because he clearly did take care of himself. His dark hair was styled with gel at the front. His face was clean and unblemished and when he smiled (which he did often) his bright white teeth dazzled. The third and final son – Brent – was completely unremarkable, the classic middle child. He possessed neither the extreme ugliness nor the dazzling beauty that his brothers supplied. Instead he seemed to fade into the background, quiet and unnoticed. As the evening rolled on, more and more men arrived, cluttering up the bar.
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