Chapter 10 #2
I heard his breath catch, felt his fingers falter.
I couldn't move an inch, completely at his mercy.
But emotionally? I was realizing I had a different kind of power over him, one that had nothing to do with restraints or commands, but with whatever was developing between us that went beyond client and companion.
It was like some weird equalizing force. The more vulnerable I became physically, the more vulnerable he became emotionally.
Maybe that was why he needed the restraints, the control. Because without them, he'd have to face how much of himself he was revealing.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more teasing, he pulled his fingers out. I whimpered at the loss, followed by another shift as Ricard moved in front of me. “Open,” he commanded softly.
I looked up, seeing his cock right in front of my face; hard and thick. I parted my lips, and he slid himself into my mouth with a groan that made my own cock throb in response.
“Good,” Ricard murmured, one hand resting on the back of my head, not pushing, just holding. “Take me.”
I hollowed my cheeks, sucking eagerly as he started off slow, shallow thrusts that grew deeper. The position was awkward since I couldn’t move much, but the restraints added a thrill that left me craving more. His flavor, salt and heat, filled me, pushing me further into a haze of desire.
Ricard's breathing picked up, his thrusts growing more forceful. I relaxed my throat, taking him deeper, wanting to please him.
But just when I thought he might finish this way, he pulled back. His cock slipped from my mouth with a wet sound that would’ve embarrassed me if I weren’t so lost in the moment.
“Not yet,” Ricard said roughly, his breath a little ragged. “You feel so good, mon cher.”
He stepped behind me again, breathing hard, and then I felt the head of his cock pressing at my entrance. Even with the preparation, there was resistance; that moment of hesitation before he pushed past me, groaning as he slid deep inside in one smooth thrust.
God, that fullness. It was overwhelming, yet somehow still not enough. I yanked against the restraints, the leather biting into my wrists as pleasure surged from within me.
Ricard paused, letting me adjust as his hands smoothed over my sides. When he began to move, it started slow, deep strokes that had me gasping as they rubbed against my prostate. His grip tightened on my hips, and his pace picked up, leaving me scrambling for something to hold on to.
“You feel incredible,” he groaned, fingers digging into my flesh as he thrust harder, faster. “So tight. So perfect.”
His voice wrapped around me like a physical caress, making me moan and clench around him, which earned another grunt from him. I lost track of sensation, the way he filled me, the pressure against the bench, the rhythm of his thrusts pushing me as he took control.
“Look at you,” Ricard said, never losing rhythm. “Taking everything I give you. So good for me.”
His praise made me shiver with desire. I strained against the binds as the tension built inside of me, coiling tighter. I was close, teetering on the edge but craving more contact, more friction, more of what he could give.
“Ricard,” I moaned, the heat intensifying with each thrust. “Ricard, please.”
He sank deeper, each thrust hitting that perfect spot, and I welcomed every inch of him, relishing the ache between us. I wanted it all, to feel every inch of him, losing myself in the friction, in the way my body responded to his.
With one last, powerful thrust, Ricard groaned, his body stiffening above me as he came, cock pulsing deep inside.
As that wave of sensation crashed over me, I felt suspended in bliss, fully surrendered to him. There was something powerful about the submission, knowing my bound body had given him that much pleasure.
Time lost meaning as Ricard's hands smoothed over my lower back. The straps fell away one by one, and he lifted me, cradling me against his chest, carrying me to the bed. When the mattress enveloped us, I blinked up at the ceiling, limbs limp, though my cock still ached with need.
Ricard’s silhouette hovered over me, backlit by afternoon light filtering through the curtains. His cock was already hard again, glistening and ready.
“Again?” My voice broke, ragged. My hips ached, but seeing him like that stirred a heat low in my belly.
His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, sending jolts of excitement to every nerve. “Only if you want,” he rumbled, voice thick with desire. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
I should’ve said no, that it was too much. That my head was getting messed up with all of this, separating reality from fantasy. Should’ve wrapped myself up in professionalism like it was armor.
But instead, I arched into his touch, my body giving in before I even thought about it.
“Oui,” Ricard breathed, like it was a prayer. He settled atop me, his mouth crashing down onto mine, all heat and urgency. My legs fell open at his command, and he pressed himself against me. I gasped at the stretch, a heat pulling through me.
“Shh.” He paused, forehead on mine, breaths mingling in the tight space. “I’ve got you.”
“Yeah, you’ve got me,” I replied, feeling a rush of hot flushes.
And then—he thrust into me, deep, pulling everything from me.
This wasn’t gentle; this was wildfire, urgency, hips snapping hard enough that I could feel the bed frame shake.
I clawed at his back, every thrust drawing sounds from me I didn’t even know I could make.
His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing my pulse as his hand slid between us, his thumb circling my leaking cock.
The pressure built like a live wire. My back arched, vision whiting out as I spilled over, painting our bodies in streaks of white. Ricard followed close behind, a choked curse escaping him as he buried himself deep inside.
We collapsed together, tangled up. I half expected him to pull away now, to retreat back into his royal bubble.
Instead, he curled up next to me, kissing my temple and whispering sweet nothings. “Mon trésor,” he murmured. “My treasure.”
Those words cracked something open inside me.
After a while, he slipped back out of bed, leaving me breathless and sated.
He returned with a warm, damp cloth, cleaning me with surprising tenderness. The intimacy of his gestures filled me with something I didn’t know how to name.
“Are you alright?” he asked softly, concern in his voice. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”
“I’m good,” I replied, my voice hoarse. “That was... great.”
Ricard smiled, and it lit up his whole face in a way that made him look younger, softer. “It was,” he agreed, fingers tracing soft patterns on my skin. “I've never experienced anything quite like that before.”
“Me neither,” I admitted. “And I literally work at a sex resort.”
He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked, his fingers still tracing patterns on my skin.
Pause. Companions didn't usually spend the night. But the hopeful note in his voice made the word ‘no’ evaporate from my mind. “Yeah sure, I’ll stay.”
“Good,” he murmured, pulling me close. “I sleep better with you here.”
A warmth spread inside me at that. This was more than just physical attraction. It was deeper. I didn’t want to admit it, but I could feel it.
I was falling for him. Fast and hard, despite every warning bell ringing in my head.
As Ricard drifted off, I lay awake, listening to the steady beat of his heart. I thought of Casey and the promises I made to him. How would I explain these feelings if he knew? Would he understand that while I came to The Ranch for him, I ended up finding something for myself too?
Before his accident, Casey was always telling me to live more, to take risks, to stop overthinking everything. “Life happens outside your comfort zone, little bro,” he'd say before doing something crazy like bungee jumping or asking out the hottest person in the bar.
Now our roles were completely flipped. I was the responsible one, the caretaker, the adult making all the hard choices. I'd come to The Ranch with such tunnel vision—get in, make money for Casey's care, get out. No distractions, no complications. Casey was depending on me to stay focused.
But what would he say if he could see me now?
In three days, Ricard would leave. He'd go back to Avaline, to palaces and protocol and royal duties.
He'd probably attend fancy garden parties with suitable potential partners from good families.
Would he think about me? Would I become just a wild Texas memory, a vacation fling to reminisce about when his real life got too suffocating?
And I would still be here, trying to earn enough to give Casey the care he deserved. Yet—to help my brother heal, I was putting myself in a position to get emotionally wrecked. Casey would hate that. He'd always said his job was to keep me from getting hurt, not the other way around.
But as I lay there, enveloped in Ricard's arms, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way to rewrite the ending of this story. A way to make what felt so right last beyond these walls, beyond this week.
A way to turn a fantasy into something real.