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Chapter 144 – Cane

مؤلف: Quinn Montclair
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-05-11 15:06:26

Oliver

It’s the third night of this goddamn standoff.

The first night, I refused to light the wood-burner and slept in my clothes, pretending to be asleep when Kir came back from the sauna.

The second night, I picked a fight over whether the curtains should be open or closed, lost it, and lay awake just listening to the heavy, even sound of his breathing.

Tonight, I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, watching him plate the lamb shanks I refused twice before finally caving.

Because at some poin
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  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 146 – Errands

    Kir It’s day five. Two days left in our cabin on the ice.Oliver is standing in the kitchen at eight in the morning, announcing he’s going into Stockholm for the day.He doesn’t phrase it as a question. He phrases it as an absolute fact. It’s that infuriating, stubborn tone he uses when he’s already made a decision, factored in my potential reaction, and decided he doesn't give a single fuck about asking for permission."For what?""Errands. I’ll be back this evening."He isn't looking at me. He’s buttering his second piece of toast with the careful, hyper-focused casualty of a man who’s rehearsed exactly how this conversation is going to play out in his head.I drink my coffee.I could push. I could back him into a corner and demand the truth. I could point out that we are in a cabin on a frozen lake, three kilometers from a plowed road, and Stockholm is a six-hour round trip by train. I could remind him that we have two days left here and he’s choosing to spend one of them si

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 145 – Slow Morning

    Kir I wake up before he does.My watch says it’s six-fourteen. Forty more minutes before the sun even pretends to come up here.He’s on his stomach next to me, face buried in the pillow, blond hair stuck to his forehead. The cinnamon oil from last night is mostly gone but there’s a faint dark streak on the sheet where he sweated through it. Two narrow lines mark the curve of his ass where the cane landed twice before he asked me to stop.He’s wearing the collar.He fell asleep in it. Didn’t ask me to take it off. The black leather sits at his throat against the pillow, the buckle catching the dim grey light from the window.I’m hard before I move.The man is wrecked and asleep and three days of being a huge pain in the ass have leaked out of him into the sheets and he’s finally, properly, mine again. The cane went in the bin already. I dropped it in the kitchen rubbish at three in the morning when I got up for water. I shift down the bed. Slow. He doesn’t stir.He’s deep unde

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 144 – Cane

    OliverIt’s the third night of this goddamn standoff.The first night, I refused to light the wood-burner and slept in my clothes, pretending to be asleep when Kir came back from the sauna. The second night, I picked a fight over whether the curtains should be open or closed, lost it, and lay awake just listening to the heavy, even sound of his breathing.Tonight, I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, watching him plate the lamb shanks I refused twice before finally caving. Because at some point, a man has to eat and it smells divine.Kir’s been making a concentrated effort to teach himself how to cook in the past two months and it’s apparently paying off.He’s pretending he hasn’t noticed I’m still not wearing the collar.He’s definitely noticed.The pouch is shoved at the bottom of my duffel under a hideous jumper I don't even like. He hasn’t asked. I haven’t put it on. We’re just two stubborn idiots suffocating in a small kitchen.He sets a plate in front of me. Lamb, mashed pota

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 143 – Decompression

    OliverWe’ve left Berlin and are now staying at a cabin in the middle of a frozen Swedish lake.Properly in the middle. The forest road that runs along the shoreline ended three kilometers back. The last kilometer to the front door was over the ice itself, in a borrowed pickup, headlights swinging across nothing but snow and the black trees on the far side of the bay. The cabin sits on a small wooded island that is technically an island in summer and not so much in winter because the lake is frozen so thick you could land a plane on it.One bedroom.A wood-burning sauna out the back. A kitchen with a gas range and a fridge stocked with reindeer steak, root vegetables, eggs, butter, two kinds of bread, and an alarming amount of pickled fish I’m not eating under any circumstances.Heating is electric and modern. The cabin smells like cedar and clean sheets and the faint pine of the woods outside. It should be idyllic.Kir is in the kitchen.I’m on the leather sofa near the wood-bur

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 142 – Speech

    OliverThe next ten minutes are his.He told me they would be and he meant it. The first stroke after I’m back up to the level I was at before the German interrupted lands across the meat of my ass like a dropped cinder block.I jolt forward against the cross hard enough to feel the harness bite into the skin under my collarbones. The second one lands two inches lower. The third lands lower still, on the back of my thighs, in the soft place where the leather of the cross is not catching me, and I make a noise that sounds very much like screeching.He works in a pattern I can’t predict. He alternates side to side, then drops three in a row on the same spot until my breath catches, then moves. The stripes are layering on top of each other now. I can’t see them but I know by feel that the earlier marks are pink. The new ones are red. The newest are turning a color beyond red.The cock ring is doing what it’s meant to do. My cock is so hard it’s throbbing against the leather panel

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 141 – Defended

    KirBerlin at midnight in late winter. The cab drops us in a courtyard off Friedrichstrasse and the door has no handle on the outside.Oliver is buzzing.He’s been mouthy on the way over, the way he gets when he’s going to be mouthy on the cross, and I’ve been letting him. He’s needed this for nine days. We left Saint and Tariq in Norfolk five days ago. Dom, Max and Butcher stayed behind to guard them should anything happen. Oliver has been winding tighter every twenty-four hours since. I have him on the cross within forty minutes of walking through the door.Black leather harness across his chest. Cuffs at the wrists, at the ankles. The cock ring at the base of him. The collar at his throat. The lighting at this station is a single warm overhead that puts him in soft shadow at the edges and bright in the middle of the back, exactly where I want it. The room is half full, the music is low. I’m barely aware of anything but him."You’re going slow on purpose," he accuses."Yes.""

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 27 – The Surrender

    OliverThe haze of arousal is thick and suffocating, drowning out every rational thought in my head.Heat pools heavy and demanding in my stomach. It’s a desperate, throbbing ache that the silicone toy is barely managing to scratch. Every stroke of my hand, every slow roll of my hips, is fueled en

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 13 – The Culinary Compromise

    OliverSleep is a fragmented, elusive concept. Tossing and turning on the incredibly firm mattress in Kirill’s guest room only yielded short, anxiety-riddled bursts of unconsciousness. Every time my eyes managed to close, the percussive echo of automatic gunfire rattled through my skull, jerking m

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 12 – The Glass Cage

    OliverThe silence in the penthouse is absolute, but my ears are still ringing with the deafening roar of automatic gunfire.The adrenaline that fueled my panicked compliance during our escape is finally draining away, leaving behind a toxic, heavy sludge of exhaustion and creeping dread. My hands

  • Cracking His Code   Chapter 11 – Collateral Damage

    KirillThe heavy steel door hisses open the second I punch the final digit into the keypad.Stepping through the threshold, the barrel of a suppressed pistol is leveled squarely at the center of my chest. Saint does not flinch. It takes him a fraction of a second to register my face, and the weapon

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