Page 54 of Cruel When He Smiles (Sinners of Blackthorne U #3)

Liam

Nate submits, and fuck, it’s beautiful.

It’s not forced or out of reluctance. No—this time, he chooses it. His muscles lose their tight coil, his spine softens, his fists unclench, and I feel the moment he stops holding back and lets me in.

There’s a particular high that comes with breaking someone. I’ve ridden it more times than I can count. But this isn’t that; this is deeper. It doesn’t buzz through my veins; it settles in my chest, heavy, warm, and all-consuming.

Because he didn’t cave.

He chose me.

He chose this.

So, I decide to reward him.

“Oh, there’s my good boy.”

A soft, helpless sound slips past his lips, something caught between a whimper and a sigh, something that makes my blood run hot.

I drag my fingers down his throat, over his collarbone, tracing his skin. His body reacts without thought, head tilting slightly, and lips parting. That subtle little instinct makes me smirk.

“See?” I murmur, feeling how his pulse hammers against my fingertips. “All you had to do was let go and trust me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “Liam—”

“Shhh.” My thumb brushes over his bottom lip, pressing down just slightly, watching the way his breath catches. “Let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

A tiny, breathless whimper slips from his throat, and my stomach tightens.

All of it is mine.

And then, in the smallest voice he whispers, “Thank you.”

I pause, and my eyes widen. That was real. Just pure fucking gratitude.

“Why are you thanking me, Pup?” I whisper, gently brushing the hair from his forehead.

He holds my eyes, his green eyes hazy and soft. “For looking after me. I was… I was just scared,” he whispers. “I didn’t know what this meant. Didn’t know what we meant.”

His voice is honest in a way I’ve never heard before, stripped of the armor he usually hides behind. There’s no fire, and no bite. That trust is dangerous. It coils around my throat tighter than a hand ever could, making me want to protect it with the same viciousness I use to ruin things.

I brush my lips over his, making him chase the contact. “You don’t have to know what this means right now,” I whisper. “You don’t have to figure out what we are tonight. You just have to let me be the one who keeps you steady when you can’t do it yourself.”

I feel the shaky breath he exhales. For all the times I’ve imagined him yielding, I never thought it would feel like this—heavy in my chest instead of just hot in my veins.

“Liam,” he breathes, and fuck if that doesn’t make my chest ache. “Please.”

When I kiss him again, it’s deeper, slower .

His mouth parts under mine, soft and unsure, and I take my time.

I explore the shape of his lips, the taste of his tongue, the way he gasps when I suck gently on his bottom lip.

His hands leave the sheets, sliding up my arms, gripping at my biceps; he’s still unsure what to do with this side of me.

The one who touches him like he’s something precious.

That makes two of us.

I slip my hand lower, fingers skimming his bare skin underneath the shirt he’s wearing—my shirt—and feel the goosebumps that rise in their wake.

His body is so fucking responsive, every breath, every tiny movement telling me exactly what he needs without him having to say a word.

But I don’t rush him. I don’t shove him onto his stomach and take what I want, and I don’t force him into a pace he isn’t ready for.

I know he’s still sore, and the injury leaves him moving slower than usual. I’m careful too, because I want this to be something he remembers when he’s back to bristling at me, when the brat comes out again.

I ease the hem of the shirt up, and his skin is bared in slow inches. He lifts his arms a little to help, but his eyes stay on mine, waiting to see what I’ll do next. I don’t break eye contact, even when I pull the shirt over his head, because I want him to feel seen in every second of this.

“You’re beautiful like this,” I murmur, my hand sliding over the ink on his waist, fingers tracing the outline of the black panther etched into his skin. “Especially this.”

I drag my thumb along the curve of the cat’s jaw, the detail inked so well it almost feels alive under my touch. I press my mouth to the spot, kissing along the length of that predator, and he shivers.

His chest rises with a shaky breath, his fingers twitching like he’s not sure if he should reach for me. So, I choose for him, catching his hand and bringing it to my mouth, brushing my lips over his knuckles before I place it back at his side.

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” I tell him quietly. “You just let me take care of you.”

There’s the smallest nod, and it’s enough.

I work the waistband of his sweatpants down slowly, mindful of the way he shifts his leg. He doesn’t flinch when my hands skim over his hips, doesn’t fight when I pull the fabric away and toss it aside.

He’s in nothing but his briefs now, stretched out in front of me, the faintest flush creeping over his skin. His eyes search mine like he’s still trying to figure out if this is real or if I’m going to revert to the version of me who pushes him just to watch him crack.

I brace one hand near his head while the other drags slowly down his side, over the dip of his waist, back to the faint bruise on his hip. I lower myself until our foreheads almost touch, my breath mingling with his.

“You’re too quiet,” I murmur. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

His body arches slightly into my touch, and he lifts his hand to my hair. “I don’t—” He stops, swallows hard. “You’re not supposed to be like this.”

I smirk against his skin, kissing my way down his throat, feeling the way his pulse flutters beneath my lips. “Like what?”

“Soft,” he breathes, his fingers twitching. “Careful.”

I hum, my hands sliding gently over his ribs, his waist, and settling on his hips. “And that’s a problem?”

Nate sucks in a breath. “No.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s just… confusing.”

I lift my head, my gaze locking onto his. “Why?” His eyes dart away, and I don’t fucking like that. I tighten my grip on his jaw enough to make him look at me. “Eyes on me.”

He hesitates. Then, slowly, his gaze meets mine, and fuck—I want to ruin him. I want to mark him, claim him, remind him exactly who he belongs to. But not like that, not tonight. Tonight, I want to take my time.

“You always rush,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Always fighting me so I’ll fuck you harder. But I know better, Pup. I know what you need.”

His fingers tighten in my hair as I kiss lower, trailing my lips down the center of his chest, flicking my tongue over his pierced nipple just to feel the way his muscles tense beneath me.

He gasps my name, his back arching, thighs squeezing around my hips. I hum against his skin, my hands gripping his sides, holding him in place as I kiss down his stomach, worshiping every inch of him.

“You gonna let me take my time with you tonight?” I murmur, nipping just above the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Gonna let me make you feel good?”

He nods, his breath shaky, but that’s not enough. I slide my hand between his thighs, pressing down hard, and his hips jerk. “Words, Pup.”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, his fingers twitching in my hair. “I—I want you to.”

I make a pleased sound and press a kiss just above the waistband of his boxer briefs before dragging them down, freeing his cock, seeing how he shudders when the cool air hits him.

His head tips back, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as I start to pump him slowly, my thumb gliding over the tip.

His body is loose beneath me, and I want more. I want all of him. Sliding my other hand between his thighs, I feel the heat of him and the way he instinctively spreads his legs for me.

“So needy, baby,” I whisper, reaching for the lube in the drawer before slicking my fingers. He tenses when I press against the tight ring of muscle, his hands gripping my shoulders tighter when I push a finger inside, sinking into that perfect heat and stretching him open slowly.

“My pretty slut,” I murmur, and his cheeks flush. “I love the way you give in to me.”

“Don’t—don’t say shit like that,” he whimpers, his fingers twisting in my shirt.

“Why not?” I press, curling my fingers, drawing a desperate moan from him. “Don’t like knowing how perfect you are? How good you feel around me?”

“You—” He swallows hard. “You don’t usually talk like this.”

I smirk, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you bring it out of me.”

His body tightens around me, his breath hitching as I curl my fingers again, finding the spot that makes him jolt. His hips twitch, a broken little whimper slipping from his lips, and my cock throbs at the sound.

“Just—just fuck me already.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Not yet.”

He groans, his head falling back, but he doesn’t fight me when I keep stretching him, pushing him to the edge so slowly it’s almost cruel. His nails dig into my skin, his legs trembling as he tries to grind down, desperate for more.

“You break so beautifully for me. I almost don’t want to put you back together,” I groan when he clenches around my fingers. “You like this, don’t you?”

He nods, but I don’t let that slide.

“Use your words, Pup,” I say, dragging my fingers out before pressing them back in slowly.

“Yes,” he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like it. Please—”

He doesn’t finish, just lets out a shuddering moan as I work him open more, taking my time, watching every fucking reaction.

“Please,” he gasps again, his voice wrecked. “I’m ready.”

I hum, brushing my lips over his cheek. “Think so?”

“Yes,” he snaps, his frustration making me grin. “I want you.”

I groan, pressing my forehead to his for a second, trying to get a grip on myself.

I pull my fingers out, slicking myself up before positioning myself at his hole. But I don’t push in right away. Instead, I cup his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “Eyes on me, Nathaniel.”