17. Cayenne
Chapter 17
Cayenne
His kiss devours every thought of escape, every plan of sacrifice. One hand stays firm on my throat while the other tangles in my hair, controlling the angle, the depth, the surrender.
“Red stops everything,” he says against my lips. “Yellow slows down. Green means more. Give me a color.”
The tactical demand in the middle of this makes me want to laugh, but his grip tightens slightly. Right. Even now, he needs his control.
“Green,” I breathe, and his eyes darken.
“Good girl.” His thumb strokes over my pulse. “Now let’s see how long you can follow orders.”
The praise shoots straight through me right to my clit. “Thought you said this wasn’t strategy.”
“Everything’s strategy.” He stands, taking me with him like I weigh nothing. “But some battles are worth losing.”
My back hits the wall, his body caging me in. One thigh slides between mine as he pulls back just enough to study my face. “Keep your hands on the wall. Don’t move them unless I say.”
“Or what?”
His smile holds edges. “Or I stop. And we both know you don’t want that.”
He’s right. God help me, he’s right. I press my palms flat against the wall, already aching for his touch.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers down my neck. “Already following orders so beautifully. Been wanting this for months—watching you fight everything except this moment.”
His touch trails lower, tracing my collarbone. “You have no idea how many nights I’ve laid awake planning this. Calculating every touch, every response.” His fingers ghost over my breast, making me arch. “Stay still.”
The command comes sharp, and I freeze. His approval radiates in a low hum.
“Perfect. You fight me on everything else—security protocols, safe houses, basic self-preservation.” His hand cups my breast through my shirt, thumb circling until my nipple peaks. “But here, now? You yield so sweetly.”
“Maybe I—” My words cut off on a gasp as he pinches lightly.
“Did I say you could speak?” His voice drops an octave, rumbling through me until my knees threaten to buckle. “You’ve done enough talking. Enough fighting. Now you’re going to be quiet and take what I give you.”
My skin prickles with goosebumps as his voice drops an octave, blood rushing to the surface until my cheeks burn. His fingertips map coordinates on my skin with military precision—each touch placed like a tactical strike against weak points I didn’t know existed.
“Unless,” his lips brush my ear, “you need to give me a color?”
I shake my head. His chuckle vibrates against my skin.
“Good girl. Now...” His hands find the hem of my shirt. “Let’s see what you’ve been hiding under all that armor.”
Every brush of his fingers as he strips my shirt off feels deliberate, measured. When I start to help, he catches my wrists, pressing them back against the wall.
“What did I say about moving?” His voice drops lower, dangerous. “Keep those hands where I put them, or I stop. Understand?”
I nod, swallowing hard as he steps back to look at me. His eyes rake over my exposed skin like he’s memorizing every detail.
“Beautiful.” His thumb traces the edge of my bra. “But I think we can do better.” He reaches behind me, unhooking it with practiced ease. “Stay still. Let me see you.”
The command in his voice makes me burn, makes me want to move just to see what he’ll do. But I keep my hands pressed to the wall as he slides the straps down my arms.
“There you are.” His hands cup my breasts, thumbs circling until my nipples peak. “So responsive. Been dreaming about how you’d react to my touch.”
When he pinches lightly, my hips buck involuntarily.
“Careful,” he warns, pressing me harder against the wall. “You’re already in trouble for earlier disobedience. Don’t make it worse.”
“What are you going to do about it?” The challenge slips out before I can stop it.
His smile turns predatory. “Oh sweetheart,” one hand slides to my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse jump. “I’m going to take you apart piece by piece until the only word you remember is please .”
My thighs clench involuntarily at his words, a pulse of heat radiating from my core that makes my breath catch and my fingers curl against the wall.
“Already trembling for me.” His thumb hooks under the waistband. “And I’ve barely started. Color?”
“Green,” I manage, though my voice comes out breathless.
“Good.” He releases my throat to strip my leggings down, taking my underwear with them. “Step out.”
I comply, and he rewards me with a brush of his fingers up my inner thigh. “Look how wet you are already. All this from following a few simple commands?”
His touch skims higher, and my hips twitch seeking more. He immediately withdraws his hand.
“What did I say about moving?”
“Please—”
“Already begging?” His laugh holds dark promise. “Oh no, little beta. When I make you beg, you’ll mean it.” His hand returns to my throat, angling my face up. “First, you’re going to show me how well you can obey.”
He kisses me then, hard and demanding, while his other hand slides between my thighs. When his fingers find my clit, I have to fight to keep my hands on the wall.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Fight that urge to move. Show me how good you can be.”
His fingers circle slowly, building pressure that makes my thighs shake. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he slides one finger inside me.
“So tight,” he groans. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock. But first...” He adds another finger, curling them just right. “First you’re going to come for me just like this. Hands on the wall, completely at my mercy.”
The pressure builds as his fingers work me higher, his thumb circling my clit with devastating precision. Every time my hips try to move, he stops, waiting until I’m still before starting again.
“Please,” I gasp when he withdraws his fingers completely.
“Please what?” His voice carries that commanding edge that makes me clench around nothing. “Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want.”
“Please don’t stop.”
“Better.” His fingers return, but slower. Teasing. “But I think you can do better than that. Tell me how it feels, having to stay still while I take you apart.”
“I can’t—” The words break on a moan as he curls his fingers.
“You can.” His other hand tightens on my throat. “And you will. Or I stop completely.”
“It’s torture,” I admit, the words spilling out as his thumb returns to my clit. “Having to keep my hands here, not being able to touch you, to move?—”
“Good girl.” His praise sends shivers down my spine. “Keep talking.”
“Need more,” I manage as he increases the pressure. “Need you to—oh god.”
“Need me to what?” He slows his movements again, drawing out the torment. “Say it.”
“Need you to make me come. Please.”
His groan vibrates against my neck where he presses open-mouthed kisses. “Since you asked so nicely...”
His fingers pick up speed, curling perfectly inside me while his thumb works my clit. The dual sensation combined with being forced to stay still drives me rapidly toward the edge.
“That’s it,” he encourages as my breathing turns ragged. “Fight to keep those hands on the wall. Show me how good you can be for me.”
The pressure builds impossibly high, my thighs trembling with the effort of staying still. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, his teeth graze my ear.
“Come for me. Now.”
The command in his voice combined with a particularly perfect curl of his fingers sends me over the edge. My legs buckle as pleasure crashes through me, but his body keeps me pinned to the wall.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, working me through each wave. “Perfect. Keep those hands exactly where they are.”
I’m trembling by the time the aftershocks fade, but my palms stay pressed to the wall. His chest rumbles with a sound too low to be called a purr, the vibration traveling through the scant space between us. His pupils dilate, irises thinning to mere rings of steel-gray as his shoulders lower a fraction of an inch.
“Look at you, following orders so well.” He withdraws his fingers slowly, making me whimper. “Think you can keep being good for me?”
“Yes,” I manage, though my voice shakes.
“We’ll see.” He steps back just enough to shrug off his leather jacket. The sight of him unbuttoning his shirt with those capable hands makes heat pool low in my belly again. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”
His shirt falls to the floor, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. When his hands move to his belt, my fingers twitch against the wall.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warns, though his voice has gone rough with need. “You move those hands before I say, and I’ll make you wait even longer.”
“That’s cruel.”
“That’s consequences.” The belt slides free with a whisper of leather that makes me shiver. “Now be a good girl and keep watching while I show you exactly what you do to my control.”
His hands move to his zipper with deliberate slowness. Each movement feels calculated to drive me insane, to make my fingers itch against the wall with the need to touch.
“Getting impatient?” He smirks as I shift restlessly. “Good. I want you desperate. Want you thinking about this moment every time you consider running.”
His pants join the rest of our clothes, and my mouth goes dry. He’s gorgeous—all lean muscle and barely contained power. His cock strains against black briefs, a damp spot already forming where the head presses against the fabric.
“See something you like?” He palms himself through the cotton, and I have to bite my lip to keep from begging. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking you’re still wearing too many clothes.”
“Am I?” His thumb hooks in the waistband of his briefs. “Maybe I should keep them on. Make you wait even longer.”
“Please,” the word slips out before I can stop it.
“Please what?” He steps closer, close enough that I can feel his heat but not quite touching. “Be specific.”
“Please let me see you.”
“Better.” He slides the briefs down torturously slow. “But I think you can do better than that.”
“Please.” My voice comes out rough with need. “I want to touch you.”
“Not yet.” He kicks the briefs aside, then steps close enough that his cock brushes my stomach. “First, you’re going to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you. In detail.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but the command in his voice brooks no argument. “I want...”
“Yes?” His hand returns to my throat, thumb stroking over my racing pulse. “Tell me.”
“I want you inside me.” The words come easier as his other hand traces patterns on my hip. “Want you to fuck me until I can’t remember why I ever thought about leaving.”
His grip tightens fractionally. “Continue.”
“Want you to mark me up, make me yours.” Each admission makes his eyes darker. “Want to feel you for days.”
“Good girl.” He rewards me with a brush of his fingers between my thighs. “And how do you want it? Soft?” His touch turns feather-light. “Or hard?” His fingers press more firmly, making me gasp.
“Both. Everything. Please?—”
“Patience.” He withdraws his hand entirely. “You’ll get what you need when I decide you’re ready for it. Now spread your legs wider.”
I comply immediately, earning another stroke of his thumb over my pulse.
“Perfect.” His free hand slides up my inner thigh. “Keep them just like that. Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
His fingers find me again, testing how wet I am. “Still so ready for me. But I don’t think you’re desperate enough yet.”
He drops to his knees suddenly, and my breath catches. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open.
“Keep those hands on the wall,” he reminds me before pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “If you move them, I stop. If you try to rush me, I stop. Understand?”
“Yes,” I manage, though my voice shakes.
“Yes what?”
Heat floods me at his tone. At what he wants me to say. “Yes... sir.”
His approval rumbles against my skin. “Good girl. Now let’s see how long you can follow orders.”
The first swipe of his tongue makes my knees buckle, but his grip keeps me steady. He takes his time, alternating between light teasing licks and firm strokes that make me see stars. Every time I get close, he backs off, keeping me on the edge of pleasure.
“Please,” I gasp when he pulls back completely.
“Please what?” His thumb circles my clit lazily. “Use your words. Tell me exactly what you need.”
“Please make me come. Sir.”
“Not yet.” He stands slowly, pressing his body against mine. His cock slides against my wet heat, making us both groan. “First, you’re going to tell me you’ll stay.”
The demand catches me off guard. “What?”
His hand finds my throat again, squeezing just enough to make my pulse jump. “Tell me you won’t run. That you’ll let us protect you.”
“Ryker—”
“Say it.” His teeth graze my throat where his hand had been. “Promise you’ll stay.”
The demand twists something in my chest. Makes the heat building between us sharper, more dangerous. His cock slides against me again, and my nails scrape against the wall.
“I can’t?—”
“You can.” His hand grips my hip, holding me still as he positions himself. “And you will. Because we both know how badly you want this. Want me.”
The head of his cock presses against my entrance, not quite pushing in. Teasing. Testing. Making me ache.
“Ryker, please?—”
“Three words.” He nips at my pulse point. “Say them, and I’ll give you everything you need. Make you feel so good you forget about running.”
Another slow slide against me, making us both groan. I’m trembling with the effort of keeping my hands on the wall, of not grabbing him and taking what I want.
“I’ll...” The words catch in my throat as he rolls his hips again.
“Yes?” His voice has gone rough with need, but his control holds. “Say it.”
“I’ll stay. Please—” The promise slips out before I can stop it, my inner hacker frantically trying to debug this emotional infiltration. How does he keep bypassing my security protocols with just a look? Please, like I’m begging. Ridiculous. But here we are. “Satisfied now, Commander Control Freak?”
The last word breaks on a gasp as he finally, finally starts to push inside. The stretch is exquisite, perfect, maddening in its slowness.
“Good girl.” He withdraws almost completely before pressing deeper. “Now, was that so hard?”
Before I can answer, he suddenly pulls back. The loss makes me whimper, but his hands are already spinning me around, pressing my chest to the wall.
“Need you like this,” he growls, kicking my legs wider. “Want to feel you take every inch.” His cock slides against me from behind, and I feel something different—the base starting to swell. His knot.
His hand tangles in my hair, turning my head so he can see my face. “You feel that? Feel how bad I want to knot you? Make you take all of me?”
Heat floods me at his words, at the possessive grip in my hair. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.” He starts pushing in again, slower this time. “Going to train this sweet body to take my knot. Get you ready to be bred properly.”
The words send electricity down my spine. His free hand slides around to work my clit as he bottoms out.
“So perfect,” he praises as I clench around him. “So ready to be filled. To be knotted. To be bred.”
His thrusts start slow but deep, each one hitting perfectly. The base of his cock—his growing knot—catches slightly with each movement, making me gasp.
“You want that?” His voice has gone darker, rougher. “Want me to knot you? Fill you up until you’re dripping with it?”
“Please,” I gasp as his knot catches again, stretching me just enough to make me tremble.
His grip tightens in my hair. “Not yet. First, you need to learn to take it properly.” He slows his thrusts, making each one devastatingly deep. “Going to work you open slowly. Train this sweet body to take every inch.”
His other hand leaves my clit, making me whimper at the loss. But then his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back against his chest without breaking his rhythm.
“Feel how deep I can get like this?” He grinds against me, his knot pressing insistently. “How perfectly you’re made to take me?”
Each thrust makes his knot catch more, the stretch burning so good I can barely breathe. His teeth find my shoulder, not quite breaking skin.
“Next time,” he promises against my skin, “I’m going to have you on your knees. Watch you present for me like a good girl while I work you open.”
The image makes me clench around him, drawing out a growl.
“Like that idea?” His hand slides up to my throat. “Being trained to take my knot? Learning to beg for it?”
The pressure builds with each thrust, each catch of his knot threatening to push me over. But just as I near the edge, he stills completely.
“Not yet,” he commands when I try to move. “We’re just getting started.”
He withdraws suddenly, the loss making me cry out. But before I can protest, he’s turning me again, lifting me with ease.
“Wrap your legs around me.” The order comes sharp as he pins me to the wall. “Show me how badly you want my knot.”
I comply immediately, and he rewards me by sliding through my wetness, teasing. His knot feels bigger now, pressing against me with each roll of his hips.
“Please,” I gasp when he continues to deny me what I need.
“Please what?” His eyes are almost black with desire, but his control holds. “Tell me exactly what you’re begging for.”
“Need you inside me. Need—” I break off as he pushes just the tip in before withdrawing.
“Need what?” His voice drops lower, dangerous. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”
“Your knot,” I admit, heat flooding my cheeks. “Need you to fill me up. Make me take it.”
His growl vibrates through both of us. “Good girl.” He starts pushing in again, slower this time. “Going to give you exactly what you need. Train this sweet body to take every inch of my knot. Make you mine.”
When he bottoms out this time, his knot stretches me wider than before. The burn walks that perfect line between pleasure and pain, making me dig my nails into his shoulders.
“That’s it,” he encourages as I adjust to the size. “Take it like you were made for me. Made to be knotted. Made to be bred.”
His hips start moving in a rhythm designed to drive me insane—shallow thrusts that let his knot tease my entrance before pushing deeper each time. My head falls back against the wall, and he immediately takes advantage, mouth finding my throat.
“Look at you,” he murmurs against my pulse. “Fighting so hard to stay in control. To be good.” His next thrust comes harder, making me cry out. “But we both know what you really want.”
“What’s that?” I manage, though my voice shakes as his knot catches again.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and the possession there steals my breath. “To let go. To stop fighting. To let me claim you completely.”
To prove his point, he changes the angle, hitting deeper. Each thrust now has his knot pressing more insistently, threatening to stretch me wider than I’ve ever taken.
“Fuck,” I gasp as pleasure coils tighter.
“Language,” he scolds, though his voice has gone rough. “Good girls ask permission before they swear.” His hand slides between us, finding my clit. “Just like they ask permission before they come.”
The dual sensation of his fingers and his knot has pressure building impossibly fast. “Please?—”
“Not yet.” His thumb circles harder as his thrusts gain force. “Want you desperate first. Want you mindless with need before I knot you properly.”
The crude words from his usually controlled mouth make heat flood me. He feels it, smirks against my throat.
“Like that? Like hearing how badly I want to breed this sweet body?” he thrusts inside of me, the wet sounds echoes around us and driving me higher.
The pressure builds impossibly high as his knot stretches me further than before. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he stills completely.
“You’re not ready,” he says, voice strained with control. “Not yet. Need to train you properly first.”
“Please,” I beg, trying to move against him, but his grip holds me immobile.
“Soon.” His promise comes dark and heavy. “Going to take my time training you to take my knot. Make sure you’re desperate for it.” His thumb circles my clit faster. “But for now...”
He starts moving again, shallower now, his knot teasing but never quite breaching. The denial mixed with pleasure has me seeing stars.
“Come for me,” he commands. “Show me how good you can be without my knot. Prove you deserve to be trained.”
The combination of his words, his touch, and the promise of more sends me over the edge. He follows immediately after, filling me with his release even as his knot pulses just outside where I need it most.
When awareness returns, he’s still holding me against the wall, both of us trembling.
“Next time,” he promises against my throat, “I won’t stop.”
He holds us there for a moment, still joined, his thumb stroking gentle patterns on my hip—such a contrast to his earlier dominance. When he finally eases out of me, the loss makes me whimper.
“Shh,” he soothes, but doesn’t set me down. Instead, he carries me to the bed, laying me against the cool sheets. “Let me take care of you.”
He disappears briefly, returning with a warm cloth. The gentle way he cleans between my thighs makes my chest tight. Makes everything so much harder.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he says, tossing the cloth aside before sliding into bed behind me. His arm bands around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. “Stop planning.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are.” His lips find the spot behind my ear that makes me shiver. “Already trying to figure out how to run after promising to stay.”
“Ryker...”
“Sleep,” he orders, though his voice holds that same edge of command from earlier. “We’ll discuss your terrible plans in the morning.”
But as his breathing evens out behind me, all I can think about is how much harder he just made betraying them all.
And how much I want him to stop me when I try.