Chapter 4 Cade
CADE
I wake up in the morning to bright light filtering through the poorly fitted slats of wood. I blink blearily. Where the fuck am I? And why the fuck are half my muscles screaming at me?
My attention falls on the man in the bed opposite me, and the memories come flooding back. Ah, yes. I was kidnapped by a butterfly who’s holding me hostage for some unknown purpose.
I hope it’s a while before I find out what it is. I want to stretch this out as long as possible.
I rotate my shoulders as much as I can in my bindings.
Fuck. I’ve never been restrained for this long before.
Usually, I just wait until my victim, who’s made the mistake of fucking with me, turns his back before freeing myself.
Even if I were somehow trapped in a way that prevented me from doing so, it wouldn’t matter.
Not when I could count on my brothers coming in to liberate me.
That won’t happen this time, thank fuck. It’d ruin all my plans. Plans involving trying to win Ansel over. To figure out what makes him tick. To persuade him to touch me somewhere. Anywhere. Maybe hurt me a little.
I’ll take whatever I can get.
I study Ansel in the morning sunlight. He looks even younger in sleep, all of the stress he wore the night before long gone. His cheek rests on one of his hands. With his blond hair falling around his face, he doesn’t look like a butterfly.
He looks like an angel. One I want to lead astray and defile.
I want to get closer to him. He’s too far away. But when I shuffle the chair forward, there’s a loud screeching noise.
Ansel’s eyes fly open. He glances around, as bewildered as I was a few moments ago. When he spots me, I don’t think he feels the same warm, fuzzy feelings I experienced.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “It wasn’t a dream.”
“Sorry, butterfly,” I say chirpily. “I’m as real as can be.”
“And as annoying.”
I tut. “Shouldn’t you be more cheerful? You had a bed to sleep in, after all.”
He lowers his hands to glare at me. “Shouldn’t you be more grumpy since you slept in a chair?”
I shrug, ignoring the protest my shoulders give at the movement. “Nah. I’ve always been a morning person. And an evening person, for that matter. I’m just cheerful.”
Ansel stands and stretches. I watch the tiny strip that appears beneath his shirt like a predator. “If I hadn’t already decided you’re fucked up, this would’ve done it for me.”
I’m too busy ogling his lean body to come up with a response. It’s much brighter now than it was in the bar. I’m able to see every delicious inch of him now.
Well, not every inch, but give me time. I’ll get there. I’ll strip him out of his clothes soon enough, revealing those colorful wings in all their glory.
He vanishes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I hear him use the toilet and brush his teeth before stepping into the shower.
That’s interesting. Ansel obviously must’ve brought some toiletries with him. At the very least, he brought his toothbrush.
It tells me two things.
First, Ansel either has been here before or he had supplies in his car.
Second, he’s prepared to be here for a while. Whoever is coming for me isn’t due just yet.
Excellent.
I watch the bathroom door like a hawk. Hopefully, Ansel will come out in a towel with steam billowing around him. I can picture how the water will roll down his chest—
But then the door opens and the illusion is shattered. Ansel clearly dressed in the bathroom. Gone is the sexy outfit he had on at the bar, replaced with skinny jeans and a graphic tee with the words Cutie with a Rootie on it.
Hm, so he’s into computers, hacking maybe. Very intriguing.
I have to admit, the outfit suits him. He looks…cute. Grounded. Like this is what he’s most comfortable in.
He spots me staring and immediately starts to fidget. “Um, I guess you need to use the bathroom?”
“Might be a good idea unless you want me making a mess.”
“No.” He rushes over, pausing beside me. “If I loosen the knots, will you let me re-tighten them?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be the best boy.”
My little adventure with the chair last night loosened my bindings enough that I’m able to easily stand without the rope catching.
Ansel steps back, paling slightly. “Wait, have you not been tied to the chair all night?”
“I was tied around the chair…”
“But you could’ve stood up at any time?” His gaze darts to the bed, and I know what he’s doing.
He’s putting together how few steps there are between where the two of us slept.
How easily I could’ve murdered him in his sleep.
Then he glances at the door. The one that leads to freedom. “Why…why did you stay there all night?”
I shrug. “Because you told me to. I won’t invade your bed until you invite me. And trust me, you will invite me there.”
He ignores that, biting his lower lip. Fuck, how I wish I could bite it too.
“You could’ve killed me. You could’ve escaped. But you didn’t.”
I risk taking a step closer to him. His breath catches as he looks up at me. Even with my hands tied behind my back, I think we both know who’s in control right now.
“I could’ve killed you,” I agree. “But I didn’t. I won’t hurt you unless you ask me to.”
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. He just searches my face for answers I’m already giving him; ones he doesn’t want to believe.
“And I didn’t escape because I don’t want this to be over yet,” I say simply. “It’s the same reason why I didn’t kill you. You’re the most interesting person I’ve met in years, Ansel.”
“You’re insane,” he breathes.
“Maybe, but I’m not the one kidnapping people.” This week, at least. Last week was a different story.
“This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m holding you captive and you’re flirting with me.” He shoves his hair back. “You are flirting with me, right?”
I grin lazily. “If you have to ask, then obviously I’m not doing a good enough job.”
Ansel steps back, shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not doing this. You’re my victim. I’m in charge here.”
“Sure you are, my beautiful butterfly.”
He mutters under his breath before grabbing my bicep again. For someone keen to set boundaries, he sure does like feeling my muscles up a lot. Must mean he’s willing to bend, if not break entirely.
He steers us into the bathroom, and we come to a stop in front of the toilet. My lips twitch at the predicament we find ourselves in. “Are you going to help me out?”
“Of course not,” he snaps. “Surely you can manage peeing on your own?”
“Usually. But usually I don’t have my hands tied behind my back.”
Ansel’s ire falters as a blush creeps up his neck. “Oh.”
“Oh indeed.”
“Umm…” He shuffles, and I take pity on him. This is a steep learning curve, after all.
“You can either untie me—”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Or you can hold my cock.”
Ansel freezes. “I’m definitely not doing that.”
I sigh dramatically. “Then I guess we’re back to me making a mess.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ansel grumbles. “Fine. But don’t make this out to be anything it isn’t.”
My heart speeds up as his slender fingers unbutton my jeans before undoing my zipper. My cock is already hardening before he puts his hand on it.
He shoots me an incredulous look. “You can’t piss with an erection.”
“I know that,” I say in exasperation. “It’s not my fault. You’re touching it. I can’t help but get excited.”
“I’m barely touching you!”
“It’s enough,” I say, my eyes drifting closed at his featherlight touch. “You cockblocked me last night, and now it doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“I didn’t cockblock you.”
I open my eyes to give him a pointed look. “No, you just invited me to fuck you and kidnapped me instead.”
Ansel’s lips twitch—the merest ghost of a smile. “Fair. But stop thinking about that and concentrate. We’ll be here all day otherwise.”
“I don’t mind that,” I murmur as my hips rock forward. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. “Suddenly, pissing is the last thing on my mind.”
Ansel’s breath quickens as his grip tightens. He matches my movements almost automatically. “What are you doing?”
I look over at him with hooded eyes, electricity zipping up my spine. “I think the better question is, what are you doing?”
That snaps him out of the moment. To my utter dismay, he lets go of my cock and steps back. “Stupid. This is fucking stupid.”
The next thing I know, my wrists are being freed and the door is slamming behind him.
I stare at the wood thoughtfully before grinning.
A third date and there’s been peen touching. Made it to second base.
Great progress, if I do say so myself.
When I’m done using the bathroom and cleaning myself up a bit, I saunter out.
I may have used his toothbrush without permission, but he doesn’t need to know.
Ansel is waiting for me, a rope in one hand, his phone in the other.
His lips are moving as he mutters something under his breath, and I cock my head slightly, trying to make out what his nervous murmurings are all about.
My flaccid dick doesn’t quite seem to care what his mouth is saying. It perks up at the sight, and Ansel glowers at me when he sees the tightness in my jeans.
“Back in the chair.”
I hesitate, wanting to push him up against the wall, press his arms over his head, and grind against him.
But I don’t do that. That would destroy the trust I’m building between us.
It’s fragile still, and in need of some tender loving care.
So instead, I do as he says, sitting on the rickety chair and instructing him on how to tie the best knot.
He doesn’t listen to me, leaving my wrists poorly tied together, the ability to escape once more an exciting reality. He really does keep me on my toes.
“Is someone coming to join us?” I ask. It’s a normal question for a victim to ask, but not for the reason I am. I genuinely only care if someone is about to show up and spoil our fun.
Ansel frowns. “Apparently not any time soon.”
Excellent.