Chapter 3 Breach - 3

• 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.”