Pushing Connor (The Dungeon #4)(20)

Wesley’s caressing his cheek, releasing some of the tension he felt. “Not overly so. You’ve never hurt me. Not at your low, and for sure not at your best. Not even for a moment did I feel threatened.”

“That doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

“The only thing you need to apologize for is not telling me what was wrong.”

“You’re right.”

Wesley offered Connor a sweet smile, understanding shining on his face.

“I am more sorry for how I’ve behaved than I can put into words. I love you, and I will always hate myself for causing you pain. I should have realized what was happening and come to you and explained. But I didn’t.” Connor finally made himself meet Wesley’s eyes. “Will you forgive me? Can you? I know the trust has been broken, but I will spend my life making it up to you, if necessary. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“But?”

“No, no buts. I love you. Well, I guess there is a ‘but.’”

“I’m listening.”

“How do I know this is real? How can I trust you again?”

The words stung, but it wasn’t anything Connor hadn’t thought of himself.

“I know. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you. I realize it might not be possible, but I will spend my life trying to prove that I’m worthy of you, that you can count on me.”

Wesley regarded him carefully for the longest time, before reaching to the side and turning down the comforter. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

Connor dry-swallowed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

At first, Connor could only stare. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and the invisible vine squeezing his chest released, and he could finally breathe again.

“Thank you.”

Toeing off his shoes and shedding his clothing, Connor circled the bed. He climbed in slowly, still waiting for Wesley to change his mind. Wesley wrapped the comforter over him and settled by his side. Tentatively, Connor reached and wound his arms around Wesley, pulling him closer. With the barest hesitation, Wesley settled against him.

***

Beneath his cheek, Connor’s chest rose and fell in time with his steady breathing, but Wesley’s mind was racing.

He had hoped for Connor’s return. And now he was here, a whole new issue arose. He’d said he was over Alin. It was the second time Connor had assured Wesley of that. And yet, it clearly wasn’t so. Connor may not have been in love with his ex-anymore, but the damage the man had done to Connor’s mental state was lasting, and Wesley wasn’t sure he could undo it.

He wanted to hate that man for the torment he’d put Connor through, but all Wesley could feel for him was pity. He’d clearly been disturbed.

Letting the rhythm of Connor’s heartbeat lull him to sleep, Wesley closed his eyes and drifted off.





Chapter 9


Connor’s stomach sank as he checked the schedule: Matthew again. There were three appointments before him, which should give Connor enough time to prepare. Those were easy. Or they should have been.

He walked through them mostly oblivious to everything. His mind was caught in a mix of Matthew, Wesley, and Alin that had him on edge. Then the dreaded hour came, and Matthew knocked on his door way before Connor had gathered himself enough to welcome him.

Yet, there Matthew was, gaze averted, hands hanging loosely at his sides.

“Come on in.”

“Sir.”

As soon as Matthew entered, the walls started closing in around Connor. He froze, struggling to get himself under control. Once his breath was coming in some sort of steady rhythm, he turned to find Matthew standing in position in the middle of the room.

Connor had to admire Matthew’s posture. His feet were spread just the right distance, his shoulders loose and his back straight. There was no tension in his body, peace coming off him in a steady stream. He was elegant, experienced, versatile, and he had a really high threshold for pain—everything Connor should have liked. But now, facing him, it became clear that this was not what Connor wanted.

However, that wasn’t something he could do anything about. He had a job to do, and Matthew was it.

“On your knees.”

Matthew obeyed instantly, his knees touching the mat in one smooth motion that had him in perfect position before Connor had time to cross the room to join him.

“On your fours.”

Again, Matthew followed the command seamlessly.

Suddenly, Connor wanted to make him suffer. Matthew was into pain and humiliation. So, that was what Connor was going to give him.

He went to the cabinet and pulled out a riding crop. It was long and slender, the tip barely wider than the rest. He snapped it against the edge of his boot. The crack it gave filled the room and made Connor break out in goosebumps. Matthew didn’t even flinch.

“Come here. On your knees like a dog.”

Connor watching him shuffle across the mat. The shirt he was wearing pulled up, exposing the patch of skin above his belt. With another swish, Wesley pointed the tip of the crop to his shoe.

“Lick it.”

When he reached Connor, Matthew leaned in, still as graceful as ever. His tongue peaked out and lapped at the leather of Connor’s boot tip.

A shudder ran through Connor, and his blood started to flow faster. He reveled in the feeling. The arousal. The power.