Game Point (The Power Games Part 4)

By Brynley Blake

She'll do anything to win the games.
He'll do anything to win her.

Roman

The Power Games was my idea to promote my new hotel in Las Vegas, where guests can indulge their darkest fantasies. I never intended to be a contestant.

Then I saw her. Now all bets are off.

Enigmatic and impossibly beautiful, her feistiness intrigues me as much as her innocence. Ava's a girl with infinite layers, and I'm determined to peel away each one until she's bared to me.  Until she's mine.

I want her. And I'll do anything to possess her—body and soul.

 

Ava

When my best friend Emmett suggested I compete on The Power Games with him, I thought he was crazy. Until I realized the BDSM-themed reality show was the perfect opportunity to ruin my stepfather's political career like he ruined my life.

All I have to do is pretend to be a submissive.

Then I'm paired with Roman Castile. Gorgeous as sin with a sadistic streak, he's as intimidating as he is dangerous, yet my body is drawn to his like there's a physical force pulling me in.

He says he can help me win…if I'm willing to give him everything.

The Power Games is a multi-part novel published in five installments:  Pregame, Mind Game, Game Plan, Game Point, and Endgame.

 

*For mature audiences only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kairos Publishing
• Release date: Oct 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215536223

Book preview

Chapter One

Ava

The next morning at breakfast, we find out that, not surprisingly, Rose and Jake have been voted off. I’m sad to see them go, but Rose promises to keep in touch, and she, Tessa, and I agree to plan a girls’ getaway as soon as the show is over. Logan also announces that we’ll be leaving this afternoon for a few days away from the hotel. The women will be traveling to Sonoma for a winery tour, relaxation, and girl bonding while the men are headed to San Francisco for some sort of Dom event—with the couples reuniting for a group event at Logan’s club, the Dominion, on Saturday night before returning to Las Vegas on Sunday morning.

Although part of me, the newly discovered wanton part of me, will miss being with Roman, a bigger part of me needs some space from him to regroup and get my emotions in check. He’d somehow sliced me open the other night, and I’d shared more with him than I’d intended to, more than I’ve ever shared with anyone besides Emmett. Then Roman had had the opportunity to eliminate Emmett—his biggest competition—and he didn’t take it because of me. He’s somehow started to tear down the walls that have protected me for so long, and I’m slightly uncomfortable with the knowledge since I know from experience that being vulnerable means getting hurt. I need to put things in perspective, and the only way that can happen is if I’m away from him and his commanding presence that demands things I don’t want to give.

I sigh as I zip my suitcase, thinking about the past few days of training. Roman has been a demanding master, pushing me to the edge of my limits but never beyond them, and with each kiss, each punishment, each orgasm he exacts from me, I fall deeper into this forbidden abyss. I could use some one-on-one with Tessa, who’s a real submissive, to figure out why the hell I respond the way I do to him. It’s wrong that I get off on being dominated and controlled and even hurt by Roman, although with him the sting of pain never comes without the reward of indescribable pleasure.

I’ll miss you, he says, his voice a low rumble as he crosses the room to me. He lifts my chin, and his lips meet mine sweetly, his tongue sweeping into my mouth possessively as I melt into him.

I’ll miss you too, I say breathlessly.

What is he doing to me?

We walk down to the lobby together, and under the porte cochere he grabs my hand, pulling me against his chest in a bone-crushing hug, his face buried in my hair. I inhale the rugged masculine scent of him and hug him back, holding on to him like he’s a life preserver in a stormy sea. He lets me go and tilts my face up so I’m looking into his steely eyes.

Don’t forget who owns you, he growls. And your orgasms.

He’s so freaking arrogant and high-handed!

You’ll never own me, Roman Castile, I say impishly as I turn to walk to the waiting limousine, the teasing tone of my voice belying my true feelings. Unfortunately, he’s starting to own far too much of me. But I’ll try to save at least one orgasm for you.

I’m still laughing at the look on his face as the limousine pulls away.

By the time our flight lands in Santa Rosa, it’s dinnertime, and we stop at a quaint restaurant called the Girl and the Fig and enjoy delicious food and wine with a French flair on the restaurant’s beautiful outdoor garden patio. There’s an almost celebratory air as we eat and talk and laugh, and I think all of us are somewhat giddy at being able to finally let our hair down and relax a little away from the Helix, the games, and even the Doms themselves, although the ever-present camera crew is still there in the background. Logan has accompanied the Doms to San Francisco, and his wife, Rachel, has come with us. By the time dinner is over, she feels like a friend. Even Rebecca has been almost fun to be with.

After dinner, feeling pleasantly full and slightly buzzed from too much wine, we’re delivered to our accommodations for the night, a boutique hotel that looks like an elegant house with beautifully landscaped grounds and luxuriously furnished rooms. We’ve been assigned roommates, and somehow I got stuck with Rebecca. She’s polite but cool as we’re shown to our room—a cabana suite with its own private patio featuring a fountain and outdoor rain shower—and she immediately disappears into the oversize bathroom to take advantage of the jetted tub, making it clear she’s not interested in spending any time with me.

That’s more than fine with me, and although I’m exhausted, too many thoughts are running through my mind for me to sleep, so I go looking for Tessa. I find her in the hot tub that’s nestled in a nook of the gardens, surrounded by lush, flowering shrubs.

Come on in, she says by way of welcome. The water’s divine. She lifts a glass of wine. And the wine is even better. I brought the whole bottle. You should share it with me so I’m actually functioning for the winery tour tomorrow.

Okay, I say with a smile. I’ll run back and get my swimsuit.

Jeez, Ava, she says with a laugh. Just get in naked. No one’s going to see you except me, and God knows we’ve already spent enough time together naked.

I look at her dubiously, but I’ve grown a little less modest by necessity since I’ve been on the show, and I really don’t want to go back to the icy atmosphere of my room and risk having to talk to Rebecca.

Okay, I say finally, deciding to throw caution to the wind as I quickly take off my clothes and slide into the enveloping warmth of the bubbles.

You’re surprisingly shy about being naked for a submissive. She takes a sip of her wine as she hands the bottle over to me. I’m not judging. Just observing. Roman knows it too. Be careful. Doms like to find your weakness and use it against you, she adds darkly.

I sigh, leaning my head back against the tub as I close my eyes. Why do we let them? Why do we not only allow them to use their power over us, but we actually crave it? Why do we get off on giving ourselves over willingly to their ruthlessness and mercy?

The confusion that has been building since that first clench of arousal the night of the auction comes pouring out in a tumble of words.

I open my eyes to find Tessa staring at me curiously. I asked myself all those things when I first started going to the club in Chicago. I’m an educated, kick-ass professional. I’m an attorney, for heaven’s sake. I’m not supposed to like submitting to a man.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her revelation, but I totally get it. The idea of a strong, intelligent woman wanting to give up control to a man defies logic.

But I love giving a man—the right man—the authority to make me submit, she continues thoughtfully. "Maybe it’s because I have to be a kick-ass professional the rest of the time; it’s a relief to hand the reins to someone else for awhile. Or maybe it’s just how I’m wired. Either way, I’ve come to terms with it. For me, it’s like being on a roller coaster. It’s exciting and scary, and the anticipation as you wait to get on, knowing you can’t get off until the ride is over, is heady. Then you get on and go over the first hill and there’s that rush of adrenaline, and your stomach drops and you love it and hate it because it’s exhilarating and thrilling but it’s also terrifying. But it doesn’t really matter, because there’s nothing you can do but go along for the ride. She shrugs. It’s what makes me feel alive, that ability to dance along the edge of danger but know I’m still safe. And protected."

I stare at her, relief flooding my veins. She has summed up my feelings perfectly. You are beyond wise. Thank you. I take another swig of wine from the bottle, grateful for both her wisdom and her friendship. I look around; there are no cameras here, just the two of us under the starry sky.

I’m new to this, I confess. I came onto the show with Emmett because my summer internship fell through, I had no money and no place to live. I’m not submissive. At least I didn’t think I was. Now I don’t know what to think, and it scares me. I love the things Roman does to me and how he makes me feel, but I don’t know if it’s because it’s him or because I’m really a submissive and would have responded like this to any Dom. But you definitely nailed it. Roman makes me feel alive, even when he hurts me. Especially when he hurts me.

She’s looking at me with her mouth hanging open. Are you serious? Not about the confusion and scared-shitless feeling. That’s completely normal, and I promise you it’ll pass. Or even the part about Roman’s sadistic side making you feel alive, although I’m pretty sure that’s not normal.

I laugh.

You seemed pretty shy and nervous at the beginning, but several of us were on the inexperienced side, and I figured that’s one of the reasons they picked you. You know, diversity. You’ve really never done any of this before you came on the show?

I shake my head with a self-deprecating laugh. Looking back now, I can see how crazy it was to come on the show. God, I was insane! But to be fair, Emmett was supposed to be my partner, and I thought I’d just have to act like a submissive here and there. I’m a pretty decent actress.

I’ll say, she breathes incredulously. So is Emmett even a Dom? She waves her hand dismissively. "Never mind. I know the answer to that. He’s sweeter than Roman, but just as commanding. He’s definitely a Dom. But I really believed he was your Dom. There’s something between you two. He’s so protective of you."

Yeah, he thinks it’s his job to watch out for me. Emmett’s my best friend, and I love him with all my heart, but it’s not like that between us.

She’s looking at me carefully. Are you sure? Neither one of you has feelings for the other?

Absolutely not! I assure her.

But later as I lie awake in bed, her questions haunt me. I’ve always held the woman inside me at bay, never thinking of myself as a sensual being, and Emmett has always respected that. Now that I’ve discovered this part of myself, will anything be different between us? Surely not.

The next morning, a limousine picks all the submissives up and takes us on a tour of the wineries of the region as the camera crew follows us, documenting our adventure. Emmett and Roman were right; the interaction between the contestants is clearly part of what the audience wants, and we give them plenty of material as we candidly discuss our Doms, the Helix, and the games. I’m naturally reticent, and I don’t say much about Roman, but Tessa and Carly tease me about his sadistic tendencies, and I end up defending him, much to the camera crew’s intense interest. The dynamic between the submissives is apparent when we’re all thrown together without our Doms, and it’s clear that Rebecca and Megan are in one camp, and Tessa and I are in the other with Carly diplomatically bridging the two. Although Rebecca is her typical condescending self, Rachel’s presence, along with the camera crew, keeps her vindictive cattiness somewhat at bay, at least until we’re alone in our room getting ready for dinner.

So what’s your angle? she asks conversationally, walking into the bathroom where I’m putting on my makeup.

I don’t know what you mean, I say evenly, keeping my eyes on my reflection in the mirror as I carefully apply a coat of mascara.