Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 84

Chapter 84

Aiden

Those words struck me unexpectedly, like a sudden blow I hadn’t prepared for—I want you, Aiden.

Aiden.

Noah couldn’t see my expression, but I was staring at him as if he’d just handed me a live grenade with a grin, daring me to pull the pin.

This wasn’t the moment for Aiden.

Here, I was Mr. A. Sir. Master. The one who held the reins, who understood every boundary and guarded them like sacred law.

There was so much Mr. A could give Noah: discipline, protection, pleasure, calm… even pure happiness. But maybe what Noah truly craved wasn’t any of those things. And the part that scared me most was the quiet voice of Aiden buried deep beneath the rules and control—the part of me that longed to be wanted, needed, just as much as Mr. A demanded. That part wanted to pull Noah close and offer him all of me—not a fraction, not a role, not the man lurking in the shadows—but every piece of myself.

That was a dangerous thought.

I pushed it down, locked it away.

My thumb brushed his skin—just a fleeting touch, enough to drive him wild—and then I pulled away. The light flogger traced down his inner thighs once more, savoring the tautness in his muscles. Finally, I let it glide so softly over the base of his cock that it was more a promise than a touch. Every fiber of his body strained to follow, but I made the space between us the one thing he couldn’t claim.

“You want so much, Noah… that you make me want too. Just take what I give you,” I whispered. “And don’t you dare come.”

He fought it. I could hear it in the hitch of his breath, see it in the way his body battled between holding on and letting go. One stroke, then I pulled back. Moved to his thighs. Returned with the heavier tails of the flogger across his chest, making the clamps jump and his mind short-circuit. Then I left him alone with the storm inside his head. Every second was a choice—hold or break. Desire burned clean, but fear found no foothold.

I stepped back, letting the flogger fall silent against my thigh as I crossed to the small table at the edge of the room. The faint clink of glass and the soft scrape of a lighter were his only warning.

The first drip of hot oil landed on the top of his foot—wet, heavy, and hotter than I thought he expected. He jerked forward in the cuffs.

“Easy, boy,” I said, steadying my voice. “It can’t hurt you. Soy massage candle. White sage.”

I let the warmth slide slowly down his ankle, curling around the bone before tracing up his shin. He gritted his teeth, caught between resisting and surrendering. Just before it reached the one place I knew he wasn’t ready for, I switched to the other foot. His exhale was shaky, like he’d just survived a storm.

Every time the heat threatened to become too much, I stopped and rubbed it in with long, confident strokes, letting the sting soften into something gentler. “Low melt point,” I told him. “Won’t burn you. Won’t leave a mark.” My voice stayed calm—soothing, but purposeful.

When I finally let the warm oil cascade over his cock, his entire body jolted. The blindfold kept me from seeing his eyes, but the way his breath shattered told me everything. I poured the oil over his balls next, and he broke—sound, breath, the raw edge of need spilling out. I covered his mouth before any noise could escape, my fingers working the oil in until the burn dulled into something almost tender.

“That’s it,” I murmured, stroking until he hardened again. “Breathe. Feel me.”

“Yes, Sir,” he muttered, voice unsteady.

I’d seen him fight tooth and nail for this chance at football. Watched him push to be the quarterback he swore he could become, burying the ghosts his father left behind. He promised himself nothing, and no one would derail that. And yet here he was—cuffed and blindfolded—letting me unravel him piece by piece. Risking everything.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he even realized how far he was letting himself go.

“Sir?” His voice was so soft it almost vanished.

“Yes.”

His head tilted just enough to meet my gaze. “What if… I wouldn’t mind so much if people knew?”

The words were quiet, nearly swallowed by the low hum of music, but my heart jumped as if he’d shouted them.

“What do you mean?” I kept my tone steady, but every instinct inside me was screaming.

Noah’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. He looked down, hesitant. “I mean… maybe here, with you… maybe this is where I really want to be.”

Every red flag in my mind flared at once.

I turned his face toward me, careful but firm. “That is foolish talk. What we have here has nothing to do with your career. You didn’t make it this far for me. You made it for yourself, for your future—and you owe it to yourself and to me to become everything you can be. Is that clear?”

His throat bobbed. “Yes, Sir.” The quiet disappointment in his voice cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

I let my hand fall, then pulled him into my chest anyway, holding him closer than my own rules allowed.

“And Noah,” I added, my voice low against his ear, “while you’re here… never call me Aiden again.”