“Worth the wait?” he asked, his voice rougher than before.
“God, yes,” I breathed. “A month was torture.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good. I wanted it to mean something.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Mean something?”
Connor’s eyes softened as he looked at me, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “You’re used to things beingmeaningless, Ryder. Quick fucks in barns or at bonfires with men who don’t give a flying fuck about you.” He held my gaze for a long moment. “But if you’re going to…submitto me, then you need to commit to this. To beonlymine.”
I found myself nodding automatically. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want.”
“Good,” he nodded, reaching down into his pocket. He withdrew a thin silver ring with a gentle curve to it. I knew what it was the moment I saw it. “You will wear this, every day, to remind you who you belong to. Understood?”
I took the cock ring in my hand, my fingers trembling with delight. “Okay,” I nodded. “I will.”
He put his hand lightly on my throat. “Try that again, boy.”
I swallowed hard, my Adam’s apple moving against his fingers. “Yes, sir.”
He smiled. “Good boy.”
Chapter 12
Ryder
The steel ring was heavy in my pocket when I arrived back at the ranch. But my heart was light. Lighter than it had been in a very long time. And for the first time, I was feeling almosthopefulabout my romantic prospects. Up until a month ago,romancewasn’t even in my vocabulary. But I couldn’t deny how I felt about Connor now. It was more than just lust, more than just the need for a quick fuck. Something was happening between us, I just didn’t know what it was yet.
The house was dark when I pulled up, which was unusual. Dad was typically still up, watching TV or doing paperwork in his office. I hesitated at the front door, listening. The silence felt oppressive. Maybe he’d gone to bed early, which would be a blessing. I wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation.
I stepped inside, my boots barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. The living room was empty, but I could see a faint light spilling from the kitchen. As I moved closer, I caught the unmistakable scent of whiskey. Lots of it.
“That you, boy?” Dad’s voice slurred from the kitchen.
Shit. I considered turning around, heading back out, maybe sleeping in the barn. But that would only make tomorrow worse.
“Yeah, Dad. It’s me,” I replied, squaring my shoulders as I walked into the kitchen.
He sat at the table, an almost empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s in front of him. His face was flushed, eyes bloodshot. I’d seen him drunk plenty of times before, but this was different. This wasn’t his usual mean drunk. There was something else there… something that made my skin crawl.
“How was thewedding?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.
I kept my distance, leaning against the doorframe. “Fine.”
“Fine,” he repeated, nodding slowly. “Fine that you went to watch two men make a mockery of everything decent people stand for.”
I bit my tongue. Don’t engage. Just get through this and go to bed.
“Nothing to say?” Dad took another swig straight from the bottle. “You sit there in church every Sunday, listening to Pastor talk about sin, and then you go celebrate it like it’s something to be proud of.”
“They’re good people, Dad,” I said quietly, unable to hold back. “They’re happy.”
He slammed his fist on the table, making me flinch. “Happy?! You think God cares if sinners are happy?” He stood up, swaying slightly. “You think I care if a couple of faggots are happy?!”
The slur hit me like a physical blow. I’d heard him use that word before, countless times, but tonight it felt different. Tonight, with Connor’s kiss still fresh on my lips and his ring in my pocket, it felt like he was talking about me.
“Don’t call them that,” I said, my voice stronger than I expected.
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “What did you just say to me?”
