“You don’t have to,” I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Just this—you seeing me like this—it’s enough.”
“Fuck, Em.” Kade’s jaw tightens, a muscle flickering under the skin. “Have you ever been with a guy before?”
I shake my head. “No. Never.”
“Me neither,” he admits. “This is new territory for both of us.”
We stare at each other, the weight of the admission settling between us. This isn’t just about sex or experimentation—it’s about crossing a line together, stepping into something unknown and potentially life-changing.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, needing to hear him say it.
Kade’s eyes darken. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Let me teach you something new, Golden Boy. Let me show you what it feels like to surrender control.”
A strangled sound escapes my throat. Kade pulls back, studying my face with intense focus.
“Lesson one in submission,” he murmurs, trailing a finger down the center of my chest. “Everything starts with trust.”
His touch is feather-light, testing, exploring. He watches my reactions carefully, noting how my breath hitches when his fingertips graze my ribs, how my muscles jump when he traces my abs.
“You spend so much time in control,” Kade continues, his voice hypnotic. “Every aspect of your life planned, measured, perfected. What happens when you let go? When you give that control to someone else?”
His palm flattens against my stomach, warm and solid. The simple pressure grounds me, anchors me to this moment, to him.
“I’m not very good at letting go,” I admit.
“I’ve noticed.” His hand slides up to my chest, fingers splaying wide. “But you want to, don’t you? You’re tired of always being the responsible one, the perfect one.”
I strain against the handcuffs, not to escape but to feel the restriction. The metal digs into my wrists, the sensation sharp and clarifying.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Kade’s expression shifts. He moves, straddling my thighs, his weight pinning me to the mattress. Both hands press my shoulders down, a display of dominance that makes my cock twitch against my underwear.
“I love seeing you like this,” he says, voice dropping to a register I’ve never heard from him before. “Vulnerable. Wanting. Mine.”
The possessiveness in that last word breaks something open inside me. I arch up against him, seeking more contact, more pressure, more everything.
“Please, Kade,” I gasp, unsure what I’m even asking for.
“Please what?” His thumbs stroke along my collarbone, a gentleness at odds with the firm pressure holding me down.
“Touch me. More.”
Kade’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Like this?” His fingers brush over my nipples.
I hiss in response, sensation shooting straight to my groin. He notices, of course he notices, and does it again, the pad of his thumb circling the hardened nub before pinching lightly.
“Fuck,” I groan, hips bucking.
“Look at you,” Kade murmurs, his gaze dropping to the prominent tent in my underwear. “No problem getting it up now, huh? Was it really so impossible with Serena?”
The mention of her name should break the spell, remind me of the awkward failure that led to this moment. Instead, it only highlights the stark difference between then and now—my body’s complete, overwhelming response to Kade that I never felt with her, or any other girl.
“Different circumstances,” I manage, trying for nonchalance and failing.
“Different person,” Kade corrects, his fingers continuing their maddening attention to my chest. His eyes lock with mine, challenging. “Say it.”
I swallow hard. “Different person.”
