18. Christian

The rounded edgeof Kale's desk dug into my stomach, and there was a paperclip stuck to my cheek. My pants were around my ankles, my shirt rucked up to the middle of my back, Kale's hand resting softly at the base of my spine. The calm tickle of his fingers against my sweaty skin was a sharp contrast to the painful thwack of the wooden ruler he was using on my ass. My cock was hard and leaking, smashed between the wood and my stomach, and we'd been at it for so long I was starting to worry Kale was going to send me to meet his friends—for the second time—with the heaviest balls I'd ever had.

"You're thinking too loud," he said, landing another strike against the backs of my thighs with the ruler.

I groaned, banging my head against his leather desk pad.

He had to know what I was after. The high from our first time together. That floaty kind of disconnect he'd taken me to with his hand against my ass, but for some reason it evaded me. The scenario was close enough to the same that it should have worked. Running free in a foreign city? Check. With a handsome man who was technically a stranger? Check. Hard enough to mine diamonds with nothing more than my dick? Triple check. Kale had done all the right things, said the correct words, and I'd played along with them, but the goal of it all continued to elude me.

Kale dropped the ruler in front of my face, then threw himself backward into his chair. The wheels rolled over the wood floor, loud as a train. I debated holding my position, but decided to straighten up and tug my pants back over my ass. Turning to face him, I leaned against his desk. There was no way my erection was going back into my pants, and the cradle of my underwear beneath my balls only made me look more endowed. Kale's face was flushed, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his forearms, and a steady trickle of sweat raced down his left temple.

Bless him, the man had tried.

"I'm sorry," I muttered with a shrug. My brain warred between frustrated and exhausted, unsure of where to settle. My knees trembled from the spanking, but my muscles were tired from hovering on the edge of perfection for so long. "I know this isn't what you expected."

Kale scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't…" I gestured weakly, blinking slowly. "Can't get there."

"Get where?"

"I don't know. What's it called?"

His mouth twitched in the corner. "You tell me, Christian. What are you after that you're not getting from me?"

The question was sharp as a spear in my side. I held up both hands, shaking my head so quick it made me dizzy.

"It's not you," I said quickly. "It's not you. It's me. I can't get there."

"Get where?" he asked again.

"That place where it feels so good." I pressed my chin against my chest, staring at my bare toes pointing toward his feet. He was still dressed from the flight, I realized, down to the shoes and the slacks.

"Did it not feel good?" he asked.

I dared a glance up at his face, finding his lower lip pushed out in the tease of a pout that wasn't quite ready to commit.

"It felt really good." I gave my ass a wiggle against the edge of his desk to remind me exactly how good it had felt.

"You're chasing after subspace," Kale said, tilting his head to the side.

"Is that what it's called?"

"Yes," he said simply. "It's a bonus, not a requirement."

"I liked it," I muttered.

"I imagine so." He leaned forward a little bit in his chair, resting his elbows on the tops of his knees. "I'm told it's unmatched."

"Does it not feel that way for you?"

"I get a different kind of high from it," Kale explained. "Sometimes I forget that you come by this naturally, but not on purpose."

My cock was still hard, but not as erect as when he'd been spanking me. I grasped the waistband of my underwear, ready to tuck myself away since we had moved onto the conversation piece of the day, but Kale stopped me with a frown and quick shake of his head.

"I didn't say you could put that away yet," he said softly, and I was immediately hard as steel again. I curled my fingers around the lip of his desk to hold myself up. "Good boy."

My eyes rolled back a little and a soft groan fell out of my mouth.

"You can't force yourself there," he went on, tipping his head back and looking up at me. "That defeats the whole point."

"How do I get there?" I asked.

"By surrendering," he said. "By not trying."

"But I want it."

"You can't fight your way into it, Christian. That's not how it works. Subspace comes from surrendering, from receiving."

"Why was it so easy before?"

"Because you surrendered." He smirked at me, arrogant asshole. "Because you received."

"Only because I didn't know it was a possibility."

"It's not a place for you to go. It's a place for me to take you."

I let out a long breath, looking up at the ceiling of Kale's office. "Why won't you, then?" I grumbled.

"Sometimes it can just be for fun, princess," he murmured, stretching one of his arms toward me. His fingertips danced across my painfully white knuckles, and I flexed my hand. The blood flow surged down my fingers and I managed another groan. "Haven't you enjoyed our time together so far?"

"Of course."

"Hmm?" Kale arched a brow and another rush of blood returned to my cock.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Sheffield."

"I think you've had enough spankings for today," he said, standing slowly. His chair rolled across the floor until it bumped the wall. "I'm ready for you to suck my cock now."

Suddenly, the air was so dry and hot, it was impossible to breathe. I blinked at him a couple of times, because I'd heard the words, and yet…

"Get on your knees, Christian."

I hit the floor before my body even knew what I was doing. Tilting my head back, I stared up at him, a gorgeous gray halo radiating out from behind him. The sky outside was bright from clouds, not sunshine, and he stood out against the pale color like a painting that I could have found in one of the hallways at home. Kale had that aura about him. Regal enough to have been a painting, he was breathtaking. He made quick work of his fly, freeing his substantial erection and pointing his precum-slick tip toward my mouth.

"If it's too much and you can't speak, I want you to tap my thigh twice in a row." He tapped his fingers against the side of his thigh to demonstrate. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Sheffield."

He did this little jerk with his head, mouth ticking up in the corner. It read like a subconscious reaction every time I called him Mr. Sheffield instead of Kale. A silent kind of approval that burned the center of my chest in the best kind of way. I would have been happy for him to always wear that expression, even though there was a quiet part in the back of my mind that wanted to know why I even cared about his reactions.

"This is for me," he said, using his cock to trace the outline of my lips. "Not for you."

I didn't have time to formulate a reply to that because his cock was in my mouth and in my throat before I could blink. With no warning, Kale shoved his entire length past my lips, the short and trimmed hairs around the base of his shaft tickling my nose. I sputtered, my body immediately trying to fight against the intrusion, but he cradled the back of my head with his hand and shushed me.

"Through the nose, princess. You don't need your mouth to breathe, do you?"

I sucked in a desperate breath through my nostrils, and it was nowhere near enough.

"You only need your mouth to get me off. No arguing, no taunting." His exhale sounded like a growl and I huffed a breath against the base of his dick. "Just sucking. There you go. Just like that."

I wanted to suck him, but his erection was lodged so deep in my throat, the only thing I could do was flatten my tongue and focus on measured and steady breaths in and out of my nose.

"You're gorgeous like this," he whispered, still unmoving. The top of his dick pulsed against the roof of my mouth. "My beautiful little prince. My cock slut on his knees."

I groaned around his thickness, the words almost enough to make me come on their own. The lack of air, the ache in my jaw, and the pressure against my tongue all worked together like an aphrodisiac that I was quickly addicted to. There was another feeling then, creeping around the edges, and my eyes went wide at the recognition of it. That soft and hazy kind of float that I'd fallen into our first night together. It wasn't around me, but it was within reach. As soon as I recognized it, though, it was gone. I grumbled a protest around Kale's cock, and he added his other hand to my head.

He worked his fingers through my hair, stroking the strands back from my face and whispering gentle praises at me that I didn't deserve. I'd gotten so close to it again and then lost it. Just like everything else in my life, I made a mockery of it. I was hard and horny, but angry and annoyed, ready to tap out, when he eased his shaft an inch out of my mouth. His cock pressed against my tongue like one of those wooden sticks at the doctor's office.

"This is what you're good for," he said quietly, pushing back in another inch and sealing off my throat with the thick swell of his cock. Out an inch, back in, out, in. A slow and controlled pump of his hips. Blinking through tears, I watched Kale throw his head back, fingers digging into the sides of my head. He was on the brink of something too. I could see it in the tight stretch of his muscles, his entire body coiled like a snake ready to strike.

Between my legs, my own cock leaked copious amounts of precum, slick and warm, down the side of my shaft. I brought one hand to my balls, the other to my cock. I didn't stroke or pull. I simply held myself together. Balls in one hand and cock in the other like some kind of statue…or trophy.

"I'm going to fuck your throat, Christian." Kale petted his fingers through my hair before digging down into a hard grip on either side of my head. "I don't care if you spit or throw up or cry. Short of you tapping out, the only way I'm taking my dick out of your throat is if I come in it. Understand?"

I nodded quickly, tears racing down my cheeks. I'd gotten used to breathing with his cock lodged in my mouth, to the point where I almost found its presence a comfort. I was in his hands, in his care, making him feel good. There were a myriad of feelings to unpack, but Kale gave me time for none of them. I was still mid-nod when he withdrew his cock from my mouth completely.

The air against my tongue and throat was cold, and my body worked on reflex, sucking in a desperate breath. It was too much, too fast, and I started to cough, but Kale was there still, his entire cock shoved back into my throat. The tip of his dick punched the rest of my breath inside, and then he was gone again. In and out with drawn-out snaps of his hips that withdrew him almost to the tip each time before he pushed back in.

My grip around my cock and balls was the first to go, quickly followed by the tension in my jaw. Kale properly skull-fucked me, the gurgling and gagging noises coming out of my mouth some of the most indecent things I'd ever heard in my life. The layer of tears in my eyes was so thick I couldn't even see his face above me. I could barely make out the haloed glow of his profile, but I didn't need to see him to know he was there. Kale was so deep inside of me, not just physically, that nothing else even mattered.

I came from the use, untouched and unallowed. Whimpering through my orgasm, the muscles in my throat gripped hungrily at the tip of Kale's cock, and he came right after me with a roar that should have rattled the windows. Buried into the back of my throat and bowed over me, his stomach against my forehead. For the first time in my life I didn't feel like a spare prince.

I felt like a fucking king.

The taste of cum flooded my mouth as he pulled his cock back past my lips, and then he lifted me onto his lap like I was a ragdoll. The wooden arm of his chair bit into my left, but my synapses were misfiring, because the hurt only forced another dribble of cum out of my cock. Kale's hands were still in my hair, not gripping, but stroking and petting. His lips against my ear, he whispered promises he had no right making, but I wanted them just the same.

I deserved his praise.

I'd earned it.

Kale's fingertips against my sweaty neck and the spit-slick skin of my chin and cheeks were soft as cashmere. My body felt like it was hovering in his lap, my brain a figurative organ that wasn't connected to the rest of me. I'd been reduced to feeling and need and pleasure.

The fucking pleasure.

"Come on back to me, princess." Kale kissed the top of my head, and I narrowed in on the feeling of his lips against my hair. The chair against my leg, his arms around my back. Slowly but surely, my brain came back online, my soul settled back into my body, and I burrowed against his chest, beyond grateful that he'd taken me back to the best place I'd ever been.

"I'm here." My voice didn't sound like my own. My throat burned from the rough fucking and my jaw ached from the stretch. Kale brought his hands around to my face, fingers gently massaging right in front of my ears. I inhaled deeply, leaning into him with a content groan.

"Yeah," he said, breath puffing out cold against the drying spit and tears on my cheeks. He traced his fingers across my cheekbones, and I shivered, eyes half open and mouth still slack.

"I'm here," I said again. Just as much for him as for me. I was in my body. My bones were mine. My muscles. My heart. I was in New York City, in America, in the lap of a man who'd turned my world upside down without even trying.

Something flashed in his eyes, but as soon as it was there, it was gone. He licked his lips and pressed our foreheads together, letting out a breath that trembled as much as my own.

"I see you, princess," he whispered. "I fucking see you."