Page 130 of Exiled Heir

“Cade,” I whimpered, practically begging.

Sucking hard, he drew his mouth off my cock, releasing it with a pornographic pop. My cock was so hard that I had to look away, or I was going to come just from the sight of Cade’s plush lips pink and swollen, his eyes luminous, his smirk wrecking me.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

I had no choice but to obey. I always had to be in charge, always the one giving orders, the one who made decisions.

I remembered how it was when Cade and I had gone into battle together. He had looked to me, trusting my experience more than he trusted anything else. There was something impossibly good about letting him take charge, letting him be the one to make all the decisions. The whine built in my throat again, and Cade climbed up onto his knees, pressing his forefinger to my lips. He shushed me gently, even as he began rolling his hips, our cocks sliding together, the only lubrication his spit and the precome I could feel leaking from the tip of my cock.

Cade smirked. “Is there something you want?”

I didn’t even have words, so desperate to move that I could only growl. His smirk grew. With his position, every thrust brushed against the backs of my fingers, and when he bared his teeth, I fully expected to see fangs.

“Are you sure? There’s nothing you want?” Cade teased.

“More.” It was all I could manage because there was too much I wanted.

I wanted to reach up and grab hold of his hips, thrust inside him and make him keen, make him come apart. I wanted him to go back to sucking my cock. I wanted him to keep doing what he was doing, ride me to the edge forever, keep me there until I lost my mind.

“More.” He tilted his head, considering. “All right.”

His hips stilled, and I cried out, unable to keep myself from thrusting up. As my hips rose, he lifted himself off me, tsking softly.

“If you can’t follow directions, then I’m going to have to tie you up.” His eyes lit at that, and I couldn’t help the sigh that left my throat at the image.

If he tied me up, I would be at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted to me.

Cade moved to the bedside table, rummaging inside it, and I saw the leather collar laid out on top. He emerged with lube, and I exhaled in relief. At least something was happening. As he flipped open the top, slicking his fingers up, my hips jerked and trembled.

Then he slid his fingers down his back, into his ass, arching so that he was entirely on display as he prepared himself.

The sound I made wasn’t human. It wasn’t even werewolf—it was made of pure desperation, and my hips thrust up, even with my hands trying to press them down.

Cade’s eyes fluttered shut, and his lip curled. “Patience.”

He reached down with his free hand and flicked at his nipple, rolling the nub between his fingers and grinning at me expectantly.

“The collar,” I said. I wasn’t sure where the word had come from, but it burst out of me, desperation making it something else. “Put it on me.”

Cade stilled, his eyes going wide, his mouth falling open.

Then he scrambled for the leather, the first sign of clumsiness I had seen in him. His hands trembled, and I took a risk, pulling my hands from my pelvis and using my elbows to push me up so that my head could move far enough forward and he could wrap the collar around my neck.

His hands were gentle, stroking the skin before he slid the leather around my throat. When he latched it shut, he slid two fingers between my flesh and the collar, checking it wasn’t too tight.

With the collar around my neck, I felt as though I’d plunged off a high wire and been caught by a safety net. I didn’t have to be scared when he would catch me.

Cade had been the first one to see me in so long that I had forgotten what I looked like. He didn’t see a threatening alpha, a werewolf who was nothing more than an extension of Declan Monroe’s whims. He saw me as someone with potential, someone he could trust.

I wanted to be that trustworthy. I wanted to be the alpha he had seen before he’d ever met my wolf.

I relaxed back on the bed, looking up at Cade. He grabbed hold of my wrists again, placing my palms on his hips. I stared up at him, watching his lithe, smooth body. He held himself above my cock, spreading more lube on his fingers and then reaching back again, stretching himself open. With the arch of his back, every muscle was on display, every line of his body, and every artful stroke of tattoo.

His eyes closed, and he pulled his fingers free, then reached back and grabbed hold of my cock. He sank down with no warning, and suddenly, I was enveloped in a warm, slick tightness that left me breathless.

“Is this what you want?” he asked.

My hands tightened on his hips.