Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 219

Chapter 219

Aiden

Micah was clearly savoring every moment of the scene unfolding before him, basking in the hunger reflected in my eyes. Despite what my heart felt, my body responded instinctively to his ragged breaths, his soft moans, and the way his hips jerked forward, silently pleading for me to take him. Yet, I remained motionless, not daring to make a move. Instead, I simply observed as others gave him the touch I couldn’t provide—each caress a vivid expression of their mutual craving, a delicate interplay of control and surrender that left Micah trembling with anticipation.

I never needed to give a command. The many hands that explored, stroked, and prodded him pushed him closer and closer to the edge of release. All it took was a single glance from me—sharp, warning—to keep him from crossing the line. That quiet authority I held over him and everyone else in the room was undeniable.

When I sensed he had reached his breaking point, I dismissed the onlookers and gave the signal to lower the rigging before he could lose control. As the ropes slackened, his body shuddered under the shifting weight. I carefully unwound him, undoing each knot slowly, making sure not to leave marks that would be misinterpreted.

His skin was flushed, etched faintly with the impressions of every twist and turn I had made. I ran my hand lightly over his shoulder, a touch far gentler than the night’s intensity had warranted.

“Beautiful work, Sir,” he murmured, his voice rough and drained from exertion.

I should have pulled away, kept my distance. But instead, my fingers lingered a moment longer, tracing a final line across his chest before I forced myself to let go.

“You did well,” I said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

His gaze lifted to meet mine, still clouded with fatigue. “Then why did you stay away? I thought maybe you didn’t want me… or that you were upset—”

I was.

No matter how flawless the performance or how striking the silence that followed, my mind was elsewhere—locked onto someone who wasn’t in the room, someone I had lost.

“Who could not want you?” I whispered, brushing my fingers gently along his cheek before turning away, hiding the crack in my composure. “I’m not upset, Micah. Not with you. Come on, it’s time to get some rest.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The drive home was quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of the city beyond the windows. Micah rested his head against the glass, half-asleep, the leash folded neatly in his lap like a sacred, forbidden object.

He tilted his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You make it sound so romantic, Sir.”

“Go shower,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Yes, Sir.” He paused, his gaze flickering toward the hallway as if trying to read the unspoken tension between us. “You sure you don’t want me to… thank you properly for tonight?”

“Micah.”

He chuckled softly. “Fine. Guest room it is.”

We walked down the hall together, the silence between us thick but unspoken. At the door, he stopped, shifting the clothes in his hands.

“Happy New Year, Sir,” he said quietly.