Chapter 21

Roman had missed him. Six days since Roman had last seen him, touched him, commanded him. It had been six days too long.

Seeing Caleb had only driven that point home. Not that the constant pangs of longing during the week hadn’t been evidence enough that Roman was far, far deeper into this thing with Caleb than he’d imagined. But watching Caleb now as he knelt in front of him, his posture one of absolute surrender, Roman experienced a maelstrom of emotions.

Longing. Need. Desire. And something much softer, much more tender.

He wanted to fuck him but also kiss him until they ran out of breath. Create marks on his skin but also hold him and take care of him. Dominate him but also be his equal. Hurt him…and cherish him.

Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell was happening? He didn’t recognize himself anymore. From a man known for having few emotions, he’d grown into this guy who had so many feelings he couldn’t tell them apart.

He’d have to figure it out later. Right now, he finally had his—boy? sub? partner?—back, and he wasn’t gonna waste time by getting lost in his head. The air thickened with every ragged breath they shared. Roman drank in Caleb’s form, every inch of his being yearning toward the lean lines of his body, the subtle strength coiled in his stillness, the sweetness of his surrender.

“Look at you…” Roman’s voice was laced with a hunger that surprised him.

Caleb didn’t move a muscle, too well-trained to respond. The power burst free inside Roman. He needed to…

“Open your mouth,” he said. “Raise your head and open your mouth.”

Caleb didn’t hesitate, and Roman unbuckled with lightning speed and took his throbbing cock out. Another time, he would take it slow, but right now, he couldn’t. His need was too strong, so he sank his cock into that wet heat. His hands sought Caleb’s hair, which was no longer there. Instead, he grabbed Caleb’s head and held it as he fucked his mouth.

“Fuck, yes…” Roman gripped Caleb’s skull tighter. The grip was a lifeline as much as it was a claim. Caleb’s throat, a velvet vise, welcomed him further, challenging Roman’s restraint.

Roman’s breath held in his chest as Caleb worked him with a fervor that was almost religious. There was no hesitation in Caleb’s movements, no protest on his lips, only the slick sounds of his mouth and the gasps that spilled out whenever Roman gave him a moment to catch his breath. Caleb looked up at Roman with eyes half-lidded with pleasure and an intensity that spoke volumes.

“Good boy,” Roman praised him, and the words that had seemed so cliché and maybe even corny now acquired a new meaning. Caleb was his good boy. And those words weren’t empty praise. They were a seal of ownership, an acknowledgment of their dynamic. Caleb had earned the right to be called that.

Caleb’s face lit up, proving how right Roman had been, as he eagerly continued to suck Roman off. Roman felt the pull, the seductive dance of power and surrender, and knew without a doubt that he was lost to this man, this moment, this new part of himself. This wasn’t temporary. This was who he was. This was where he was meant to be. Here, in the grip of something that terrified him and entranced him at the same time, he’d found a missing piece of himself.

He bucked his hips, thrusting into the warmth of Caleb’s mouth with abandon. Each movement was more forceful than the last, a primal rhythm driven by need. The sharp scent of arousal mingled with the musky undertones of their bodies—a heady mix that fueled the fire raging within him. Caleb was his to direct, to use, to possess.

God, he loved this, loved how Caleb let him chase the edge of control, loved the way submission painted itself across the younger man’s features, loved the power. It was intoxicating, a heady rush that made his heart pound and his body sing with a primal satisfaction he’d never known. The awareness of his role as Dom, or maybe of who he was, thrummed through his veins like an electric current, demanding more, craving the dominance he had only glimpsed in his darkest fantasies.

But Caleb needed more.

The thought hit him with blinding clarity. If Roman wanted to be a good Dom, he had to provide Caleb with what he needed, which went beyond a rough blowjob. Clenching his teeth, Roman pulled back and caught his breath while Caleb did the same.

Roman would need guidance, training. He wanted to learn everything he needed to be the Dom Caleb deserved. Later. For now, he’d fly by the seat of his pants—which he was still wearing. Caleb had undressed, but Roman had only unzipped and taken his cock out and was otherwise still fully dressed.

He stepped back, sat on the bed, and beckoned Caleb closer with one crooked finger. Caleb didn’t rise but crawled forward, and somehow, that drove Roman even crazier. He dragged his face up and leaned in to kiss him, nicking his bottom lip with his teeth until he encountered the coppery taste of Caleb’s blood on his tongue.

“Jesus, the things you do to me,” he growled. “I want to… I need to…”

Caleb looked up, those blue eyes filled with trust…and love. “Yes, Sir.”

With a swift motion, Roman yanked Caleb over his lap. He rested his hand on his back, taking in Caleb’s vulnerable position, the lean muscles of his back tapering down to where his ass presented itself as an offering.

Wait, was that…?

“You’re wearing a plug?”

“Yes, Sir. For your convenience. I’m prepped, lubed, and ready to be used.”

Fucking hell. Roman licked his lips, literally drooling at the sight. “Good boy. Such a good boy.”

Shit, he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside Caleb, but first, he had something else planned. He carefully removed the plug and threw it on the floor. Then he raised his hand and brought it down hard. The slap echoed in the room, a sharp smack that shot straight to Roman’s groin. The red imprint of his hand blossomed across Caleb’s skin, a mark of possession. A shiver of dark pleasure ran down Roman’s spine. He did it again, harder, and again, each strike a testament to his burgeoning hunger.

Caleb moaned beneath him, raw and uninhibited. It pierced the haze of Roman’s arousal, grounding him in the reality of what they were doing, what he was doing. But instead of halting, the sound urged him on, stoking the fire of his desire.

“More?” Roman’s voice was ragged.

“Please, Sir.” Caleb gasped. “Need more. Hurt me, Sir. Please. Want to suffer for you.”

That single plea shattered the last of Roman’s restraint. He unbuckled his belt and tugged it free. Folding the leather in his hands, he measured its weight, the potential for the sweet agony it held. He brought the belt down across Caleb’s ass, the leather biting into his tender flesh. Caleb jerked, uttering a strangled cry, and a surge of primal satisfaction rose in Roman. He hit him until he was sweating with the effort. The red welts from the belt crisscrossed the earlier handprints, painting a picture of discipline and desire.

Roman’s breath came out in ragged heaves as his chest expanded with raw, untempered need. His cock was leaking, throbbing painfully, but he ignored it. This wasn’t about him anymore, but about Caleb, about giving Caleb what he needed.

“Is this what you want?” Roman punctuated each word with another strike of the belt.

“Yes, Sir, oh god, yes,” Caleb chanted, his body rocking with each impact, riding the edge of pain and pleasure with a grace that left Roman in awe.

With every lash, Caleb’s moans crescendoed, a symphony of surrender that sang to Roman’s soul. This was power. This was control, wielded with leather and skin, an exchange so potent it bordered on sacred.

“God, you’re perfect,” Roman growled, almost guttural. He hauled Caleb up by the waist and tossed him onto the bed like a master would claim his prize.

Caleb landed with a soft thud. His skin shimmered with a sheen of sweat, and his eyes…goddamn, his eyes were pools of pure, unadulterated trust. They locked on Roman, waiting, needing, begging.

“Please, Sir…” Caleb’s plea was a whisper, but it echoed in Roman’s head like a siren call.

Roman yanked Caleb down by an ankle and flipped him so he was bent over the edge of the bed, his ass at the perfect height. Heat radiated from the skin, accentuating the bright red marks of his handiwork. What a beautiful sight.

He pushed Caleb’s legs wide. “Ass up.”

Not a second of hesitation.

Roman sent his pants to his ankles, followed by his underwear, then bent over Caleb. “I’m gonna fuck your blistering ass until I come, and then I just may do it all over again because it’s gonna feel so goddamn hot and tight around my cock. And you can’t come, my perfect boy. Not until I say so.”

Never had a “Yes, Sir” sounded sweeter.

Without preamble, Roman thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt inside the tight heat of Caleb’s body.

A guttural roar tore from his throat as he claimed Caleb with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. The room filled with the sweet music of flesh slapping against flesh, Caleb’s moans, and the creak of the bed frame keeping time with Roman’s brutal pace. Each thrust was a declaration, a claiming, as much as it was a surrender to the need consuming him.

Caleb met every one of Roman’s drives with a push of his own, and their bodies found a rhythm born of raw, carnal synchronization. No finesse, no gentle lovemaking. This was primal. This was possession.

It didn’t take long for Roman to reach the point of no return, and why prolong it? He sent himself flying over it, crashing into his orgasm with all his muscles spasming and his vision going white. His cock spurted out its rich load, saved up from days without Caleb because Roman hadn’t touched himself. He’d wanted to wait for this exact moment. He slowed to a gentle pace, the squelching sounds of his wet cock sliding in and out of Caleb’s hole obscene yet so deliciously dirty.

Caleb lay panting, his fists clenched, probably from the effort to hold back his release. Should he fuck him again? Make him suffer for another round?

One day, he’d have the patience for that, perhaps, or maybe it was more a sense of cruelty. But now, he wanted nothing more than to reward his sweet, perfect boy for a job well done. He sank deep inside him and stayed there, pumping as he snaked his hand under Caleb’s body and circled his cock.

Caleb moaned, eagerly thrusting into Roman’s hand.

“It’s your turn now, my sweet boy. Come for me.”

Caleb furiously pumped into his hand, and then he stilled, his body tense as he spilled his load. Exhausted, Roman gently pulled out. He almost tripped over his pants and kicked them off, crawled onto the bed, and carefully dragged Caleb up as well, sparing his ass by letting him lie on his stomach.

He lay with his face a mere inch from Caleb’s, both still panting and their hearts racing—victors in the aftermath of their carnal battle. As his pulse slowly came down, the haze of his release lifted.

He was in love with him.

Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love with Caleb.

Precious, sweet Caleb, so eager to please and serve him but strong enough to take a stand when needed and say no when he had to. Smart, brilliant Caleb, so dedicated to his job and Roman’s safety that he’d been willing to enter the lion’s den and work for Isabella Coldrick. Brave, fearless Caleb, seeing in Roman what he’d never realized and awakening the Dom inside him.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

Caleb nodded, a languid smile curving his lips. “Yes, Sir…more than.”

The tenderness in those two words struck Roman harder than any physical blow could. A real, raw emotion that was as tangible as the leather that had snapped against skin. He’d also sensed it earlier that week, when they’d both admitted they’d missed each other. Hadn’t they promised each other they’d talk later? Now it was later.

But no, he didn’t want to rush into anything. Besides, Caleb needed aftercare. Rather than using words, Roman would show him what he was feeling.

With careful movements, Roman slid off the bed, every muscle in his body protesting. His feet touched the cool wooden floor, and he walked, slightly unsteadily, to the dresser and retrieved the bottle of aloe vera lotion. The green bottle cooled his hand, which was still hot from spanking Caleb.

When he returned to Caleb’s side, Roman knelt next to him on the bed and opened the cap. The gel flowed into his palm, cold and soothing. He met Caleb’s eyes, seeking silent permission before touching the reddened skin that mapped out the path of his desire.

“Let me take care of you,” Roman whispered.

Slowly, gently he rubbed the lotion over Caleb’s flushed ass cheeks. He massaged in circles, his touch light, allowing the cooling balm to work its magic. Caleb sighed, the tension unwinding from his frame as his body yielded not only to the discipline but also to the aftercare, the nurturing that mended more than just the skin.

“Thank you, Sir,” Caleb whispered. The gratitude in his voice struck a chord within Roman.

“My pleasure. You were so good, so perfect for me.”

As Roman continued the soothing motions, a sense of rightness settled over him. He might’ve lost his job, but he had found something much more important. He’d found his purpose. He’d found love.