Chapter Three:
I Dare You 06:43 A.M. The surveillance footage didn’t lie. Cain watched the loop again, arms folded tightly across his chest. Saxon—barefoot, shirt half-unbuttoned—was in the east courtyard last night with Luca, the new guard. Laughing. Smirking. Standing too close. Touching his shoulder. Cain didn’t see a threat. He saw a game. And he was about to end it. — 08:10 A.M. The estate’s training room was a brutal stretch of reinforced floors, wall-to-wall mirrors, and weapon racks lining every edge. It was Cain’s favorite room. His sanctuary. The only place he could release what Saxon kept caging inside him. Until today. Because today, Saxon walked in. Tight black compression shirt. Black joggers. Freshly showered. Still damp. And smiling like the devil had handed him a dare. Cain didn’t look at him. Not at first. He just kept punching the heavy bag—thud, thud, thud—his knuckles wrapped, his jaw set. “Your technique’s gotten sloppy,” Saxon said behind him. “Or maybe you’re just angry.” Cain landed a final blow that rocked the bag sideways, then turned. “You’re not cleared for this room.” Saxon took a step closer. “I’m cleared for anything I want.” Cain grabbed a towel, wiped sweat from his neck, and tossed it onto the bench. “Get out.” Saxon ignored him, sauntering toward the mirrored wall and picking up a training dagger from the rack. “Still like your toys, I see.” Cain stared. “That’s not a toy.” Saxon flipped the blade between his fingers, testing its weight like he knew what the fuck he was doing. “Then show me how to use it.” Cain walked up slowly—each step deliberate. He stopped inches away. Looked down at Saxon’s hands. “Hold it tighter,” he said flatly. “You’re going to cut yourself.” “Maybe I want to bleed a little.” Cain ripped the blade from his hand and threw it across the room. It clattered hard against the mat. Saxon blinked. Cain grabbed his wrist and shoved him against the mirror—forearm pressed to his throat, body caging him in. “You think this is a fucking joke?” Cain growled. Saxon smirked. “No. I think this is foreplay.” Cain shoved harder. “Keep testing me, Rivera. I dare you.” Saxon’s breath hitched. Cain’s lips grazed his jaw. “Say one more thing. See what happens.” Saxon’s voice was a whisper. “Luca said I smelled good last night.” Cain snapped. He yanked Saxon away from the mirror and threw him onto the padded mat, pinning him beneath his weight, legs spread, both wrists locked above his head in one strong hand. Saxon was panting, eyes blown wide. “Do it.” Cain leaned in. Pressed his cock right against Saxon’s. And whispered, “No.” Saxon blinked. “What?” Cain smirked. “You want to act like a tease? You don’t get to come.” Saxon growled, squirming. “Cain—” Cain released his wrists, stood, and adjusted his pants. “You’ll wait.” “Wait for what?” “For when I decide you’ve earned it.” He turned and walked out. Saxon lay there, hard, panting, furious. And leaking. — 11:55 A.M. Cain sat in the security control room, watching Saxon pace the courtyard like a caged animal. He wasn’t stupid—he knew what denial did to him. What a denied orgasm felt like for Saxon Rivera, a man used to being worshipped, touched, fucked on demand. This? This was Cain reclaiming power. And fuck, it felt good. — 14:00 P.M. Saxon showed up to lunch late. Shirtless. Sweaty. Hair damp from a workout that Cain hadn’t approved. He strutted in like nothing mattered, dropped into the seat across from Cain, and poured himself a glass of sparkling water. “You look tense,” Saxon said. Cain didn’t answer. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Saxon continued, lifting the glass to his lips. “About earning it.” Cain’s jaw clenched. Saxon licked a drop off the rim. “I don’t remember you being into chastity.” Cain’s fork froze mid-bite. “Don’t test me, Saxon.” “But that’s the fun part,” he purred. Cain stood, palms flat on the table. “Upstairs. Now.” Saxon grinned and rose slowly, smug. “I knew you’d break first.” — 14:07 P.M. Cain shoved Saxon into the bedroom, slammed the door shut with his foot, and locked it. He grabbed a length of soft black rope from the drawer—Saxon’s, of course—and ordered: “Strip.” Saxon’s smile dropped. Cain’s voice dropped lower. “You have ten seconds.” Saxon tore his shirt off, joggers next, until he stood there—naked, flushed, erect, and waiting. Cain walked a slow circle around him. “No touching. No talking. Hands behind your back.” Saxon obeyed. Cain tied his wrists together—tight, but not painful. He admired the way Saxon looked like that: bound, vulnerable, angry. Needful. “You like control,” Cain said quietly. “I like you when you’re like this,” Saxon whispered. Cain grabbed his chin. “No. You like being ruined.” He shoved him down onto the bed, face-first, and straddled his hips, grinding down against his ass with slow, agonizing friction. Saxon whimpered. “Please.” Cain bent low and bit his shoulder. “Not yet.” He reached beneath Saxon’s body, found his cock, hard and leaking. Cain stroked it once. Twice. Then let go. Saxon cursed. Cain stood and walked toward the bathroom, unbuckling his belt as he went. “Where the fuck are you going?” Saxon shouted, breathless. Cain looked back over his shoulder. “To shower. Alone.” Saxon thrashed on the bed, rock hard and desperate. Cain smiled. “Maybe if you behave tomorrow… I’ll let you come.” — 17:30 P.M. Cain stood in the west tower, overlooking the perimeter. Rain had started to fall—just a mist. He liked this view. It helped him think. Footsteps behind him. He didn’t need to turn. He already knew. “You’re quiet,” Saxon said. Cain replied without looking. “You’re still hard.” Saxon laughed bitterly. “You’re a sadist.” Cain turned. “And you’re addicted to punishment.” They stared at each other. Then Saxon moved. He walked up to Cain, grabbed him by the shirt, and kissed him—hard. Desperate. Teeth and lips and rage. Cain responded in kind. This wasn’t about rules anymore. This was fire. Cain shoved Saxon against the glass window—rain streaking down behind them—and kissed him until Saxon gasped. “Do it,” Saxon whispered. “Do it now. Please—” Cain reached between them. Fisted Saxon’s cock. One rough stroke. Two. Three— Saxon came with a hoarse cry, head thrown back, eyes shut tight, body trembling. Cain kissed him once more. Soft this time. Then walked away again. “Tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ll learn to ask better.”Chapter Seven: Let Me Destroy You 06:43 A.M. The video in high definition burned through their eyes. Cain stood frozen in front of the flat-screen, jaw tight, arms folded. Saxon was on the couch behind him, shirtless, lips parted, watching himself on the screen with wide, stunned eyes. The video played on loop. His back arched. His thighs spread. Cain’s hands gripping his waist. His moans filling the speakers. Grainy. Stolen. Obscene. It was them. Their first night in the safehouse. Cain didn’t need audio to hear it. Didn’t need visuals to know how he sounded when he came inside Saxon the first time after thinking he’d lost him forever. “You were mine before you ever knew what the word meant,” his voice snarled on screen. Cain shut off the TV. Saxon whispered, “That’s… online?” Cain nodded once. “Who has it?” Cain’s voice was ice. “Don Vincente.” Saxon’s breath hitched. “How?” Cain turned to him, jaw flexing. “Someone tapped the feed. Probably befor
Chapter Six: Mine to Protect, Mine to Ruin11:45 A.M.Punishment.Cain shoved Saxon down onto the desk. The wood groaned beneath them.“Hands flat.”Saxon obeyed, breathless.Cain ripped his joggers down. No prep. No lube. Just spit and fury and the sharp edge of jealousy turned into pure, sexual violence.He shoved two fingers into Saxon, twisting, stretching.Saxon moaned, “Fuck—”“You want pretty boys with soft hands?” Cain growled. “You want compliments and giggles?”Saxon’s head dropped forward. “No. I want you.”Cain spat on his cock, lined up, and slammed in.Saxon cried out, body arching, fingers clawing at the desk.Cain gripped his hips so hard he’d leave bruises. “Say it again.”“I want you—fuck—Cain—”Cain pounded into him, brutal, merciless, possessive.“This is mine,” he snarled. “You are mine.”Saxon’s moans turned to cries. Raw. Desperate.Cain pulled out halfway—then drove back in so hard the desk shook.Saxon nearly sobbed. “I’m yours—I’m fucking yours—please—don’t
Chapter Five: What We Never SaidCain didn’t answer.He squeezed the tube of ointment instead, focusing on the wound, not the man.“You disappeared the night before my engagement,” Saxon continued. “Didn’t call. Didn’t warn me. I waited for you. And you didn’t show.”“I had to go,” Cain said.“No, you chose to go.”Cain leaned back on his heels, jaw locked. “I was ordered to leave. By your father.”Saxon’s eyes darkened. “He hated you.”“He was right to.”Saxon sat up—wincing slightly, but defiant.“No,” he said. “He hated that I loved you.”Cain’s hand froze mid-air.Those words… landed like gunfire. Deep. Clean. Devastating.“You were the only real thing in my life,” Saxon said, voice quieter now. “And you let him scare you off.”Cain’s mouth opened.Then closed.He stood, walked to the window, shoved a hand through his hair.“I didn’t want you dead,” he said finally.Saxon blinked. “What?”Cain turned, voice hoarse. “He told me if I didn’t leave, he’d make you disappear. He alread
Chapter Four: You’re Still Mine23:11 P.M.Cain’s voice cut sharp through the radio, “Status check—patrol four, respond.”Static.Cain’s jaw flexed.The estate’s east wing should’ve checked in three minutes ago. The cameras in that section had been glitchy since the rain started, but silence wasn’t just a delay—it was a warning.He didn’t wait.He ran.—23:13 P.M.The corridor smelled off—like ozone, sweat, and copper.Cain moved in silence, gun drawn, heart pounding in his throat. As he neared the stairwell, he heard the scuff of boots. A low grunt. Then—Saxon’s voice. Muffled. Strained.No.Cain hit the door and shoved through with full force.Saxon was on the floor.Kneeling.Hands gripping a decorative sculpture from the side table, blood at his lip, shirt torn at the collar. And behind him—a man with a blade, black mask, arm already in mid-swing.Cain didn’t think.Didn’t aim.Bang.The bullet tore through the attacker’s shoulder, sending him flying backward into the wall. Saxo
Chapter Three: I Dare You06:43 A.M.The surveillance footage didn’t lie.Cain watched the loop again, arms folded tightly across his chest. Saxon—barefoot, shirt half-unbuttoned—was in the east courtyard last night with Luca, the new guard. Laughing. Smirking. Standing too close. Touching his shoulder.Cain didn’t see a threat.He saw a game.And he was about to end it.—08:10 A.M.The estate’s training room was a brutal stretch of reinforced floors, wall-to-wall mirrors, and weapon racks lining every edge. It was Cain’s favorite room. His sanctuary. The only place he could release what Saxon kept caging inside him.Until today.Because today, Saxon walked in.Tight black compression shirt. Black joggers. Freshly showered. Still damp. And smiling like the devil had handed him a dare.Cain didn’t look at him. Not at first.He just kept punching the heavy bag—thud, thud, thud—his knuckles wrapped, his jaw set.“Your technique’s gotten sloppy,” Saxon said behind him. “Or maybe you’re
Chapter Two: Close QuartersCain didn’t sleep.Not because he couldn’t—but because he wouldn’t. Not in this place. Not under this roof. Not with Saxon Rivera walking around shirtless, barefoot, and smoking like he wasn’t the most wanted man in the city and the reason Cain’s cock was half-hard and aching since the second he walked through the goddamn door.He sat on the edge of the guest bed in his private quarters, left foot braced on the floor, a gun resting in his hand, the safety on.The walls were too thin.Or maybe Saxon moaned just loud enough for him to hear it.On purpose.Cain ground his teeth, cock straining against the front of his tactical pants, and muttered, “This is hell.”And it was only day one.———08:00 A.M.Saxon walked into the breakfast lounge like he owned the air.The bastard wasn’t even trying.Loose white button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows, collar open far enough to expose the dip of his throat and the faint outline of the gold chain he used to wear i