Page 23 of If Cain Were Able

Whenever Patrick was on his knees, he always made it an act of worship, and I’m delirious with joy that it’s still the case. He hums his approval, the vibration feeling like heaven against my sensitive skin, and I find myself balancing dangerously on the precipice of my orgasm, just like the last time we were together.

Only this time, I don’t have the excuse of Patrick’s heart surgery to hide my quick release behind. Instead, I pull him from the floor, kick my shoes, socks, and pants off, and tell him to do the same.

As soon as he’s naked, I practically throw him onto the bed.

I haven’t felt this ravenous with a partner since him, and I’ve been with enough people by this point to realize I won’t find it outside of him, either.

“Flip over,” I command, tapping his side. I’m desperate to know if his flavor has changed in the last two and a half decades, or if he’ll be as familiar to my tongue as the Stella I’ve drunk since I was nineteen.

“I think we ought to set some ground rules,” he says, still lying on his back.

“The only rule we’ve ever had is that you do what I say when I say it,” I remind him.

“I’m not twenty-years-old anymore, Cain,” he says angrily.

“But you feel like you are when my cock spills inside you, don’t you?” I ask. Without waiting for confirmation, I continue my verbal assault. “It doesn’t matter how old we get, Patrick, you’ve been wired to follow my orders from the start.” I spit into my palm and stroke his shaft while I talk, dismantling him right before his own eyes. “You’d do anything to feel my dick inside you one more time, remember? I believe those were the words you spoke to me the night you tore us apart.”

His eyes stay glued to where my hand is gliding up and down his dick, making precum pour from his slit.

“I tore us apart? You were killing me! How could you not see that?” he bellows.

“Who said I didn’t see it?” I ask calmly.

This.

This is what I’ve wanted. I need him to fracture in order to know I still hold the power.

I’ve had many partners since we were those kids in college, but no one ever gave themselves to me like Patrick Miller. It isn’t until this moment that I realize that with every partner I’ve had, I’ve been trying to find this, recreate this. Just like him.

Except it can’t be recreated.

It only ever belonged to us.

Chapter 14

Patrick

Cain’s speed on my cock increases.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe we could have been something if you’d given me just a hint of respect?” I ask.

“You didn’t want my respect,” Cain fires back. “You wanted my body. You wanted the release I could bring you. You wanted someone to call the shots, so you didn’t have to think about it.”

“I wanted you!” I shout, overwhelmed by this interaction, still unable to fully process that he’s here.

“But you’ve always known that wasn’t an option.”

“Because you refuse to make it one.”

The argument dies when Cain drops to his stomach on the bed, pushes my knees to my chest, and swipes his tongue across my hole.

“Mmm,” he groans before pulling back. “Fuck, Patrick. I’ve missed this.”

When Cain offers praise or a compliment of any sort, it makes my heart flutter. He doesn’t give either often. “I can’t wait to bury myself in your body, feel you clench around me as I fill you up.”

Cain’s fingers dig into the backs of my thighs as he continues lapping at me until I’m writhing beneath him, begging for him to follow through on his words.

“Fuck me. Please,” I rasp.