Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83

“They look really good on you,” he murmured, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “I could leave these on you for hours. Maybe next time, we’ll try a silver ring.”

A shiver ran through me, foolish and uncontrollable, and he chuckled softly at my reaction. Then, without warning, the heavy flogger brushed firmly across the clamps, sending a sharp line of electricity through me—pain and pleasure so tightly intertwined that I couldn’t separate them even if I wanted to. My back arched instinctively. The table beneath me groaned under the pressure. He struck again, this time lower, and a fierce tightening gripped my chest, a switch flipping inside me that sent everything rushing downward.

“Sir, please… I need to—”

“No.” His voice was calm, resolute. “You’re not ready yet.”

I curled my toes, trying desperately to hold onto the fragile thread of control. My voice came out rough and strained. “Please help me not—”

“You won’t,” he said firmly. “Trust me. Let go of the fear.”

Right. That was the point. I needed to surrender it all and let him carry the weight. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stop resisting the rising tide inside me. If he said it wouldn’t happen, then it wouldn’t.

The flogger was set aside. The soft whisper of wheels rolled across the floor. The toy chest—yes, I recognized that familiar sound now—its drawers sliding open and closed with tiny metallic clicks. Then silence settled again.

I wanted to curse him and thank him simultaneously.

Instead, I got his mouth.

He kissed me once—quick and fiery—then again, longer and deeper, as if he’d opened a door and allowed me to tumble two steps inside before steadying me with a hand on my jaw. I leaned in for more, and he met me halfway, his tongue sliding slowly until my knees instinctively tried to lift, only to be reminded of my place by the cuffs holding me down. When he pulled away, I foolishly chased the fading warmth in the air.

“Still,” he whispered close to my ear.

“I’m trying,” I admitted, my voice tinged with frustration. “Sir.”

“Good boy.” His words were quiet, satisfied—but they hit harder than any blow ever could.

He switched implements, this time lighter tails—thinner, faster. The touches fell like gentle rain all over my skin, building heat without the friction I craved. He traced the inside of my thighs, and my hips responded, trying to follow the movement. The clamps tugged in rhythm with the rise and fall of my chest.

—

I breathed deeply beneath his hand, feeling the creeping panic I hadn’t even noticed begin to crack and slowly ebb away.

“You think you can make me touch you whenever you want,” he said, his tone more statement than question.

I could have lied. I didn’t. “I thought I could… convince you.”

“Temptation isn’t obedience.”

“I want to learn; I want to please you.” I swallowed hard. “I want… you, Aiden.”

The moment I said his name, the words caught in my throat. He didn’t correct me for using it—didn’t say anything at all. And suddenly, a chilling realization settled over me: what I truly desired might not be what he wanted at all.