Chapter 19
Ryder
Isat at the picnic table with Connor, watching the creek dance lazily in the sun.
The weather was gorgeous, the sun was warm, and everything was perfect.
But I’ll admit, I was getting a little impatient.
This was Connor’s only day off for a while and we hadn’t seen each other for two weeks.
I’d faithfully worn his cock ring, proving I belonged to him.
I’d even denied myself release for a few days to make sure this meeting would be especially explosive.
But so far, Connor hadn’t made a move. And I was starting to worry that nothing was going to happen.
We’d already spent a couple of hours eating breakfast and talking.
I’d told him stories about my new job at Nelson Ranch, and he’d filled me in on all the drama at my father’s place.
Our conversation had been easy, comfortable in a way I’d never experienced with anyone else.
But now we were just sitting, enjoying the scenery, and my body was practically vibrating with need.
I shifted on the bench, trying to ease the pressure of my jeans against my hardening cock. The metal ring encircling the base made every movement more intense, a constant reminder of who I belonged to.
“Something wrong?” Connor asked, his voice deceptively casual. The slight upturn at the corner of his mouth told me he knew exactly what was bothering me.
“No,” I lied, clearing my throat. “Just enjoying the view.”
“Is that right?” He raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes studying me with that penetrating gaze that always made me feel like he could see right through me. “Because it looks like something’s on your mind.”
I bit my lip, weighing my options. I could be patient, let him set the pace like a good boy. Or I could tell him what I wanted. What I needed.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” I admitted, my voice dropping lower. “About us. About what we might do with a whole day to ourselves.”
Connor took a slow sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim of his mug. “Have you now?”
“Two weeks is a long time,” I said, meeting his gaze. “And I’ve been wearing your ring every day, just like I promised.”
His eyes darkened at that, and I saw his grip tighten on the mug. “Have you touched yourself while wearing it?”
The question sent a jolt of heat straight to my groin. “Yes, sir,” I whispered. “But not for the last three days. I’ve been saving that for you.”
Connor set down his mug with deliberate slowness. The predatory look that crossed his face made my breath catch. In one fluid motion, he stood and moved around the table, stopping directly behind me. I felt his large hand settle on the back of my neck, warm and firm.
“Inside,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. “Now.”
I practically leapt to my feet, my heart pounding with anticipation. Connor followed close behind as I hurried toward the cabin, his presence like a physical weight against my back. As soon as we crossed the threshold, he shut the door and pressed me against it, his body caging mine.
“What exactly have you been thinking about?” he asked, his mouth hovering just above mine, not quite touching. “Tell me, Ryder.”
I swallowed hard, my hands instinctively finding his waist. “I’ve been thinking about you tying me up,” I confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “About being completely at your mercy.”
Connor’s eyes flashed with hunger, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. His hand moved to cup my jaw, thumb pressing against my bottom lip.
“You want to be tied up?” he asked, voice rough with desire. “Completely helpless? At my mercy?”
“Yes,” I breathed, my cock straining painfully against my jeans. “Please, sir.”
He studied me for a long moment, then stepped back. I almost whimpered at the loss of contact until I saw him reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a length of thin, soft rope that I hadn’t even realized he was carrying.
“You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.
“I like to be prepared,” he replied with a dangerous smile. “Take off your shirt.”
My fingers fumbled with the buttons in my eagerness. When I finally got my shirt off, Connor stepped close again, running his hands over my bare chest. His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as his calloused fingers traced my collarbone, my shoulders, and my nipples.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, and I felt myself blush. No one had ever looked at me the way Connor did. He acted like I was something precious, something worth taking his time with. It was like being worshipped in the most intimate way.
“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice dropping into that dom register that made my knees weak.
I obeyed, turning to face the door, my palms flat against the wood. I felt him step close, his chest against my back, his breath hot on my neck.
“Do you trust me, Ryder?” he asked, his lips brushing my ear.
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “Completely.”
I felt the first touch of rope against my skin, cool and smooth as he began to wind it around my chest. He worked with practiced efficiency, creating an intricate harness that wrapped around my torso, framing my pecs and crisscrossing my back.
Each time the rope slid against my skin, I shivered, my arousal building with every knot he tied.
“Where did you learn to do this?” I asked, my voice unsteady as he pulled a section of rope taut across my nipples.
“I told you I used to perform,” he said, his voice low and focused. “Rope was part of my act. Among other things.”
The thought of Connor on stage, working rope with the same confident precision he was using on me now, sent another jolt of desire through my body. I pictured him tying up other men, their muscles straining against bonds similar to the ones he was creating for me.
“Arms behind your back,” he instructed.
I complied, crossing my wrists at the small of my back. Connor secured them efficiently, binding them together in a way that was snug but not painful. The position forced my chest out, making me even more aware of the rope harness encircling my torso.
“How does that feel?” he asked, running his hands over his hands over my bound arms, checking the tension. “Not too tight?”
“It’s perfect,” I managed to say, though my voice was strained. I flexed against the restraints, testing their strength. There was just enough give to be comfortable, but not enough that I could break free. The feeling was intoxicating.
Connor turned me around to face him, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of me. I stood there, my chest harness accentuating my muscles, arms bound behind me, utterly helpless. I felt exposed and vulnerable, yet completely safe in his hands.
“On your knees,” he ordered softly.
I sank down, the wooden floor hard beneath me. Looking up at him from this position felt right, like I was exactly where I belonged. Connor towered over me, powerful and in control. He reached down, running his fingers through my hair before gripping it firmly.
“The rope suits you,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “I love the way you look all tied up. My good boy.”
I whimpered at the praise, my cock throbbing painfully in my jeans. Connor must have noticed because his free hand moved to the front of my pants, palming me through the denim.
“So hard already,” he observed. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about for two weeks? Being on your knees for me?”
“Yes, sir,” I admitted, leaning into his touch. “Every night.”
He smiled, a predatory curve of his lips that made my breath catch.
Slowly, he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down the zipper.
I lifted my hips to help as he tugged them down to my knees, leaving me in just my underwear.
The outline of my cock was clearly visible, the head peeking out above the waistband, already wet with pre-cum.
“Look at you,” he said, hooking his fingers into my underwear. “So eager.”
He pulled the fabric down, releasing my cock. It sprang up, hard and flushed, the silver ring gleaming at the base. Connor’s eyes darkened at the sight, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“You weren’t lying,” he said, running a finger along the underside of my shaft. “You’ve been wearing it faithfully.”
“I promised I would,” I replied, shuddering at his touch. “I’m yours.”
Connor’s expression softened for just a moment, something warm and tender flickering in his eyes before the dominant mask slid back into place. He circled me slowly, admiring his handiwork from all angles. I felt his gaze like a physical touch, hot and heavy on my skin.
“What should I do with you now?” he mused, stopping in front of me again. “I have you all trussed up like a gift. How should I unwrap you?”
I swallowed hard, my cock twitching with need. “Whatever pleases you, sir.”
He grinned. “Good boy.”
His hands moved to his belt, undoing the buckle with deliberate slowness.
The metal clinked as he pulled the leather free, the sound making my mouth water with anticipation.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his hands as they worked open his jeans, revealing the outline of his erection straining against his underwear.
“Open,” he commanded, pulling his thick cock free.
I parted my lips eagerly, my tongue darting out to wet them as he stepped closer. With my arms bound behind me, I couldn’t touch him, couldn’t guide him to my mouth. I was completely at his mercy, exactly as I’d fantasized.
He gripped himself at the base, the thick vein on the side pulsing as he traced the head of his cock across my lips, painting them with pre-cum. I whimpered, trying to chase him with my mouth, but his other hand gripped my hair tightly, holding me in place.
“Patience,” he warned, his voice rough with desire. “You’ll get what I give you when I decide to give it.”