Chapter 113
Noah
By the time Saturday evening came around, I was a bit of a wreck.
Apart from the talk–which I was still determined to override by
proving myself–Friday night had been a lot of what I needed.
Takeout Chinese–yes, Chinese–and wait for it… we ate it on the
couch. Like we broke every rule in one night. Well, he did. I’ve been
eating on couches my whole life, unless my dad was home for dinner
and we awkwardly sat at the table together in silence. But eating next
to him, watching a dumb movie, laughing until my ribs hurt, leaning
against him like normal people–apart from the fact that I was naked
-was the closest thing to a “date” we’d ever had.
And to top it all off? He decided to be merciful.
We cleaned up the kitchen together after, me drying dishes while he stacked them. I was buzzing with contentment… and guilt. By the
time we went to bed, I couldn’t hold it anymore.
I grabbed the riding crop from its hook on the wall and carried it over, laying it in his hand before kneeling at the foot of the bed, forehead
low, presenting myself.
He tilted his head, brow arched. “And what is this?”
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My throat went dry, but I forced it out. “I earned two, Sir. One for
cursing earlier. And the other… for kissing you without permission.”
His eyes glinted in the dim light, but his voice came steady, smooth.
“Tempting.”
He leaned in, pressing the crop flat against my chest before tossing it
onto the bed behind me.
“But I can think of a better punishment this time.”
Before I could breathe, he shoved me backward, pinning me against
the mattress, his weight heavy over me. His mouth crashed against
mine, rough and claiming.
The punishment was simple, brutal: mind–blowing sex that wrecked
me completely–without letting me release. Not once.
I would’ve rather had double the strikes. Hell, triple. Anything but
that slow torture of being edged into madness and denied, left
shaking and begging until my throat was raw. And he knew it.
But still–when it was over, when he wrapped me in his arms and
tucked me close against his chest–I didn’t care anymore. The ache
between my legs was nothing compared to the calm that settled over
- me. Just curling into him, safe and claimed, was more pleasure than
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any release could give.
And just like that, my peace was back.
Saturday morning rolled in with our usual rhythm–grooming,
breakfast, the quiet little rituals that had already started to feel like
ours. Only this time it was lighter. Softer.
I couldn’t help thinking he was trying to overcompensate for
whatever the hell was coming that evening.
We swam in his pool to beat the heat, his strokes precise and smooth
while I mostly splashed around, trying not to drown. He smirked
every time I lost a lap. Then we dried off in the sun, lazy and
unhurried, like we didn’t have a clock ticking over our heads.
Later we played Scrabble at the kitchen table. He won–of course he
did, the smug bastard–but not before I tried to argue that “yo” and
“bruh” were actual words. He raised a brow and handed me the
dictionary without saying a thing.
Lunch was easy, both of us in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, stealing bites off each other’s plates. Afterward we sat side by side, listening to some soft music drifting from the speaker while I
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pretended to read and mostly just watched him, broad shoulders
relaxed for once.
It almost felt normal. Too normal. The weight in my chest only grew
heavier as the day dragged on, but it wasn’t until evening that the
tone shifted. He came to me in the bedroom, gaze steady.
“Help me dress,” he said.
The outfit was unmistakable–the Dominium side of him, every
buckle and clasp and gleaming line of leather. My hands shook a little
as I fastened the straps across his chest, the harness snug, the
polished vest fitting like armor.
Comments
R Visitor
1 Comments >
So now he has to suffer because Aiden let someone touch him. Dude… More
7 days ago
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
