Page 37 of If Cain Were Able

As my cum begins dripping from his hole, I use two fingers to shove it back inside, fucking him with it until his body is convulsing beneath me from being overstimulated.

Finally untying his wrists, I watch him as he rubs the sore spots. The straps are soft, but he fought against them pretty hard, and the skin is raw.

“You should let me put some Aquaphor on those and wrap them,” I tell him.

“Whatever you think is best,” he replies. The tone of his voice is a dead giveaway that his walls are going back up.

Retreating into my bathroom, I come back with what I need. When he’s all bandaged up, my stomach growls loudly.

I just want to fall into bed. It’s two a.m., but I know if I don’t eat now, I’ll be miserable tomorrow.

“Stay with me while I eat.” It’s a command, but it comes out dangerously close to a question.

“I should get going. I’ve crossed too many lines tonight,” he admits.

“So getting fucked by your client is okay, but watching him eat is too much?”

“Cain,” Patrick groans.

“Patrick,” I return in the same tone.

“Fine, let’s go get you fed, and then I’m leaving.”

We’ll see about that.

Chapter 22

Patrick

Cain puts his burger and fries on a plate and pops it in the microwave while I take a seat at his table.

“You want anything?” he asks.

“No,” I answer succinctly, knowing I need to get the hell out of here, and wondering—not for the first time—why this man has such a hold over me. Deciding it’s best to switch gears and talk business before my heart gets more confused, I remind him of his meeting tomorrow. “Go easy on Fierro. He’s a good guy.”

“Who?” Cain asks.

“The man conducting your mediation meeting tomorrow,” I remind him.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his plate from the microwave and sitting across from me. “I don’t want to deal with him. I’ll only work with you.”

“Cain, that’s not a good idea.”

“Why? I don’t want to deal with some ass kisser,” he whines around a mouthful of burger.

I scoff.

“Right. Because I don’t kiss your ass more than anyone on the planet,” I deadpan, acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Cain flashes a heart-stopping smile at me.

“The difference is I like it when you do it.”

I scrub my hands down my face.

“Cain, this is my job we’re talking about. I tried to get taken off this assignment and was denied. I just need everyone to get on the same page and then go home with as much of my h—with as much of my sanity intact as I can.”

“You really think you can go back to how things have been the last two decades now that you know where I am, what I’m doing, and that I want you?” he asks, driving a knife into the same heart he once fixed.