Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Noah

I found myself craving more.

It baffled me how I could feel so terrified, overwhelmed, and yet intensely aroused all at once. I couldn’t explain why surrendering to Aiden gave me a sense of safety unlike anything I’d ever known. Why every strike against my skin only fueled my desire instead of diminishing it.

There were no answers to be found—only Aiden, and the fire he ignited inside me.

The third strike landed suddenly, sharper than the last, just beneath my ribs.

I gasped sharply, arching my back against the mattress, a soft whimper escaping before I could hold it back. The sting burned fiercely, hot and biting, but before the pain could transform into fear, Aiden’s mouth was on me again. He kissed the fresh mark as though it belonged to him, as if he wanted me to feel every contrast: the burn and the balm, the discipline and the devotion.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

I wasn’t sure why. The pain wasn’t unbearable—not really. But something deep inside me was unraveling. Being touched like this, cared for even in the midst of pain, seemed to be rewiring parts of me I hadn’t realized were still broken.

A sob threatened to rise in my throat, but I swallowed it down hard.

The fourth strike landed on my inner thigh.

“Sir—” I cried out before I could stop myself, then flinched the instant the words left my mouth.

A heavy silence settled between us.

Then his voice came, low and gentle, whispering near my ear.

“Do you need to stop?”

“No,” I breathed, barely able to speak. “I—I’m okay.”

“You’re more than okay,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the edge of my jaw. “You’re doing beautifully.”

Something inside me shattered.

The last time I’d cried like this, I’d been alone in that dark closet, biting the inside of my cheek to keep silent. I’d convinced myself that silence was strength, that feeling nothing was the only way to survive.

And now—

Now, trembling beneath someone else’s control, I felt safer than I ever had before.

The final strike hit just above my hip.

I choked on a cry—a mixture of pain and release—and he caught it with a kiss that swallowed the sound whole, undoing me completely.

I was wrecked.

And then his mouth was on me.

Warm. Wet. Devastating.

I gasped so hard it caught in my throat and spilled out as a moan. My fingers clenched tightly around the belt binding my wrists, legs shaking against the restraints.

—

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Crossing Lines