Chapter 13
Cain
Patrick’s grief is palpable, and it feeds the possessive demon within me. He never looks at Damon for more than a second or two; meanwhile, I can’t take my eyes off the young man. His features are beautiful, though this version is far more reserved than the man whose photo is in Patrick’s drawer.
Then there’s Liam.
I knew Emilia, albeit not well. But after Patrick cut me off, I had a hard time accepting that he was able to move on, and I’m ashamed to admit that I watched them from a distance, although I doubt Patrick knows that.
Emilia was tolerable because she was a woman.
In my eyes, that made her safe because Patrick would remain mine in the way that mattered most.
But sitting at this table with Liam, the product of Patrick and Emilia’s love, makes my need to reclaim the man next to me almost uncontrollable.
I make polite conversation throughout dinner, gleaning as much information about the men as I can. They ask questions about my career and life in Boston. If I don’t think too much about who they are or what they mean to Patrick, it’s an enjoyable dinner.
Afterward, Liam and Damon attempt to clear the table, but Patrick stops them.
“I’ll take care of that. You boys get on home.”
Liam looks at me with uncertainty in his eyes. Smart man.
“You’re sure? We don’t mind sticking around for a while, do we, D?”
“Whatever you want, baby,” Damon replies, clearly head over heels for Liam.
“Li, I’m fine. Cain and I will pour some bourbon, relive our glory days, and I’ll be in bed by ten,” Patrick says, not mentioning that I’ll be in it with him. “No need to worry.”
I wonder if his son hears the anticipation in his voice the way I do.
“I do worry. You work too hard, and you still probably drink too much.”
That statement makes me cough to cover my laughter. Patrick could down a fifth of vodka in college and still make it to an eight a.m. lecture. The man doesn’t know the definition of too much.
“I’ll make sure he keeps the alcohol to a minimum,” I offer with a smile, knowing I plan to pump him full of something else.
Patrick shoots me a warning glare, and I fight my smile from breaking out across my face wider than it already is.
Everyone says their goodbyes, and as soon as I’m satisfied that Damon and Liam won’t be back, I set my sights on Patrick.
“The audience is gone,” Patrick says. “Say what you came to say and leave me in peace.”
“Peace?” I scoff, knowing he, like me, hasn’t known a moment’s peace since we came into each other’s lives.
“What I can preserve of it at least,” he clarifies.
“Admit it; the only peace you’ve known in the last twenty-five years is when my cock is seated so deeply inside your ass that you feel me in your stomach.”
“Admit that and boost your already inflated ego? I’ll pass.”
I wonder if he knows he’s inching toward me.
“Why don’t we test that theory?” I suggest.
“You said you wanted to say goodbye. So, say it and get out.”
I’d believe that’s how he felt, except he’s gone back to staring at my lips while he talks. It was always his tell. He has a thing for full lips.
“The only thing I plan to say goodbye to tonight is your sanity.”
Gripping Patrick by the back of his neck, I pull him to me. Not only does he not fight me, but his hands fly to my chest, pawing at my shirt, before tearing impatiently at the buttons, sending them flying.
His need does more for my ‘inflated ego’ than any words possibly could.
Last time I was here, I mentally mapped the layout of his house, and I lead him to his bedroom as if I were the owner.
Once we cross the threshold, it’s like we’re twenty-years-old again. He’s far enough out from his heart surgery that I no longer have to treat him with kid gloves, and my body craves his submission like it always has.
I rip Patrick’s shirt over his head before he drops to his knees, ripping my belt open and shoving my suit pants and boxers to my knees.
He dives onto my cock in one fluid motion, like a man starved, causing my hands to fly to the back of his head. His hair is still thick and feels good between my fingers as he bobs on my shaft.
I test the waters, assuming his dry spell outside of our brief encounter the last time I was here is still in full force. I’m a little surprised when he swallows me easily, his gag reflex non-existent even as I press his nose against my pubic bone.
Only when his eyes water and he taps my thigh for breath do I release my hold. I move my hand underneath his chin, forcing his face up to mine.
“So fucking sexy when you’re stuffed full of me,” I tell him honestly.
Patrick beams at the praise and leans back in, dipping his head, pulling one of my balls into his mouth while his hand takes over the motion on my dick.
Whenever Patrick was on his knees, he always made it an act of worship, and I’m delirious with joy that it’s still the case.
He hums his approval, the vibration feeling like heaven against my sensitive skin, and I find myself balancing dangerously on the precipice of my orgasm, just like the last time we were together.
Only this time, I don’t have the excuse of Patrick’s heart surgery to hide my quick release behind. Instead, I pull him from the floor, kick my shoes, socks, and pants off, and tell him to do the same.
As soon as he’s naked, I practically throw him onto the bed.
I haven’t felt this ravenous with a partner since him, and I’ve been with enough people by this point to realize I won’t find it outside of him, either.
“Flip over,” I command, tapping his side. I’m desperate to know if his flavor has changed in the last two and a half decades, or if he’ll be as familiar to my tongue as the Stella I’ve drunk since I was nineteen.
“I think we ought to set some ground rules,” he says, still lying on his back.
“The only rule we’ve ever had is that you do what I say when I say it,” I remind him.
“I’m not twenty-years-old anymore, Cain,” he says angrily.
“But you feel like you are when my cock spills inside you, don’t you?
” I ask. Without waiting for confirmation, I continue my verbal assault.
“It doesn’t matter how old we get, Patrick, you’ve been wired to follow my orders from the start.
” I spit into my palm and stroke his shaft while I talk, dismantling him right before his own eyes.
“You’d do anything to feel my dick inside you one more time, remember?
I believe those were the words you spoke to me the night you tore us apart. ”
His eyes stay glued to where my hand is gliding up and down his dick, making precum pour from his slit.
“I tore us apart? You were killing me! How could you not see that?” he bellows.
“Who said I didn’t see it?” I ask calmly.
This.
This is what I’ve wanted. I need him to fracture in order to know I still hold the power.
I’ve had many partners since we were those kids in college, but no one ever gave themselves to me like Patrick Miller. It isn’t until this moment that I realize that with every partner I’ve had, I’ve been trying to find this, recreate this. Just like him.
Except it can’t be recreated.
It only ever belonged to us.