Chapter Twelve
Kane
Fuck.
This… this is a bad idea. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in life, but this?
This is beyond even my comprehension.
I don’t know what possessed me, but it was like the moment I heard Ryder’s plea, it struck a chord inside of me that I couldn’t ignore.
I don’t want to wait.
Those five words echoed inside of me like a battle cry.
I’ve spent my life waiting for everything I want, and in most cases, I’ve got nothing to show for it.
Nothing but trauma, anxiety, guilt, a penchant for order and discipline, and an inability to get close to people. Even the people I like, and want to be close to.
I told Ryder he deserved more than a quick frotting in the elevator, and I meant that.
Ryder deserves to be praised. Worshipped.
Adored. He’s a bright light. The kind you can’t help but be drawn to, and he might be legitimately the only person I feel like I can let me guard down with, just enough to breathe.
To feel something other than annoyance or remorse, or an unlimited amount of guilt.
Though I think my refusal may have come off wrong. It’s not that I don’t want to devour him in this elevator. It’s that I do. And for the sake of both of us, I need to make sure this doesn’t go sideways. I need to make sure he’s okay.
Because I know I’m not. Not with this aching cock, not with this racing heart, not with this overwhelming desire to loosen the chains I’ve bound myself in.
I want to lose control, and that is dangerous. On so many levels.
There is no satisfaction in urgency and haste.
I know that better than most. The rush of instant gratification isn’t bad, but there’s something to be said about the intensity that comes from waiting.
Holding out until you can’t even stand to be touched.
Until every nerve comes alive from the uncertainty that relief is on the horizon.
It’s been years since I gave anyone that kind of pleasure physically, and that fact is not lost on me. But Ryder is young and impatient, and he thrives on the excitement; I can see that plain as day by the hazy look in his eyes.
His hunger and eagerness are not missed. But something tells me he craves the rush of the moment, the quick jolt of electricity, because he doesn’t know how to be patient. Perhaps because no one has ever been patient with him.
But I know how to be patient. I know that some things are better if you wait. And there is a part of me that is more than intrigued at the idea of driving Ryder right up to that razor’s edge. I bet he would break beautifully for me.
But I also know nothing in this life is certain. The moments we live in are infinitely delicate and fragile; and they are gone in the blink of an eye.
Choosing to remain still in a world of chaos does not mean the chaos subsides. And yet at the first chance Ryder gave me to show him how rewarding patience can be, to lead by example, I crumbled like a house of cards, because his words unlocked a part of me I didn’t know existed.
The minute my lips find his, he parts them for me without hesitation, and I pillage his mouth with my tongue like a goddamn animal.
Like a starving man who’s tasted the nectar of the gods.
A wave of heat and strength overcomes me as I shove him back against the wall, even though there is nowhere else for him to go.
This elevator is small as it is, and I could not be any closer to Ryder, unless our bodies were conjoined or melded together.
But somehow, it’s still not close enough. I need more. I need to feel every inch of Ryder from the inside out. I need to possess him. Consume him.
And yet, somehow, I think even if I carved a home inside of Ryder’s chest and lived there like a damn parasite, it wouldn’t be enough.
Ryder lets out a low groan as I slide my hand around his neck, noting how perfectly my fingers coil around it, how my thumb naturally presses against the underside of his jaw; how his pulse races beneath my palm.
His skin is so soft, yet hard at the same time. His hair tickles the edge of my fingers and I have the strongest urge to run my fingers through it, to grasp it tight in my fist.
His lips are smooth like his skin, and he tastes like bitter coffee; which I don’t hate. I kiss him aggressively, needing to feel his tongue against mine. I bite and suck at his lower lip. My fingers in his hair tighten and his hands on my hips squeeze me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
He whimpers into my mouth and I feel his body shake, feel the throb of his cock through his jeans, and I know he’s trying to be good. But it’s hard.
We both are.
And that truth alone is a sword of guilt as much as it is a kiss of lust.
Ryder meets my tongue with his, responding with equal fervor as he kisses me hard as he shoves me back against the wall, pinning me beneath him as his mouth covets mine.
The surprise renders me speechless, and my cock responds in tandem as a fresh bloom of precum forms against the inside of my boxer briefs.
I moan into his mouth without a second thought, instinct taking over.
I like his aggression more than I should.
I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve never felt anything like the way he makes me feel, and that was before I’d tasted him.
Now I fear I have been poisoned. Because I will never forget how he tastes.
Like bitter coffee and bad decisions, like sunlight and sin.
I break away, looking up at him, at his blown pupils and the familiar haze of lust sparkling in his deep sapphire eyes. I shove him back, equally as hard, needing him to understand what words I can’t express right now.
I need to regain control of this situation or I may do something I will regret. I watch his gaze darken as he licks his lips. The look on his face is some mix of devious and challenging, like he’s debating arguing with me, but isn’t quite sure of his own decision.
I let a low growl out as I make my voice stern, solid. There is no question in my command.
“I’m not going to tell you a third time, Ryder,” I say, finding the voice I didn’t even know I had lost and adjust my cock, making no point in hiding the way my body responds to him. Ryder’s gaze drifts to my hand, before flashing up to my eyes.
“Go home,” I say firmly. “That’s an order.”
I hit the hold button before I change my mind, and the doors open. Thankfully there is no one on this floor waiting for the elevator, but one glance at my watch tells me I’m more than late for group.
Shit!
I don’t say goodbye, nor do I turn around to look at Ryder because if I do, I’ll never make it, and I’d rather not miss an entire group session.
Especially because Carter knows I’m here, so he’s probably wondering what the hell happened to me.
I’ll have to think of something to tell him.
Because I am not telling him that I lost control in that elevator and nearly drove my favorite barista over the edge.
And I liked it. A whole hell of a lot.
I liked the feel of his cock against me, throbbing with need.
I liked his heavy breaths and the way he tried to be so fucking good; to deny himself the pleasure he wanted so badly.
He wanted me to give him permission to come. He wanted to come for me.
I hear those words all the time.
Please let me come, Daddy.
Master K, I want to come.
Please let me come, Sir.
The words aren’t new, and they certainly won’t be the last I hear of them, but… there was something about the way he said them; the way he pleaded with me. I wanted to give him precisely what he wanted. Not because it was my job, or because of obligations, but simply because I wanted to.
Because I want him. More than I think I knew before I walked into this building today.
But now I can’t unknow the truth. Truth is petty like that.
And now that I know the danger Ryder possesses for me, how will I proceed? And for that matter, can we proceed at all?
What if the fresh air clears his head? What if the space breeds remorse and Ryder never wants to see or speak to me again after what happened?
I shove the thoughts aside, because I can’t think about that right now.
I need to leave my shit at the door, like Tim always does.
I stop outside the door to group, peeking in to see if someone’s talking.
I don’t want to interrupt or anything, so I’d rather wait until I see Tim talking to knock and come in.
My breath is still evening out, my heart still racing. I still feel the warmth, the buzz in my veins from his kiss.
I can’t remember the last time I truly kissed a man. It’s been years.
I can assume I have, but I don’t know for sure since every time I’ve slept with someone in the last six years involved me getting black out drunk.
But I just kissed Ryder.
Moments ago.
And I can still feel him on my lips, on my skin, and I’m certainly not drunk.
Not off of alcohol, anyway.
Tim nods and starts talking, and I brace myself for the inevitable and open the door.
“Kane, was starting to think you weren’t coming today,” Tim says as everyone turns to look at me.
Panic and anxiety swell inside me, and heat starts to rise. There’s an ache in my head, and my vision starts to blur.
Oh no.
No, no, this can’t be happening, not now, not—
I feel someone’s hands on my shoulder, and then a familiar voice speaks.
“You good?” Carter asks, and I hear the concern there.
I nod. “Yeah. Just… wicked headache,” I say. “That’s why I’m late.”
I look at Carter briefly, noting the frown on his face. He doesn’t believe me. But he doesn’t have to.
“I’m good,” I say blinking, I ease out of his touch and head over to my seat, which is empty.
Almost as if everyone left it that way on purpose. We don’t have assigned seats or anything, and the group size changes all the time.
I sit in my seat, rubbing my temples as Tim greets me. “Well, glad to have you as always.”