Crossing Lines Chapter 59

**Noah**

His hand left my back, and for a second the air felt colder. I stood still, the blindfold snug against my skin, listening for the smallest shift that meant he was moving again.

“Turn left,” he said, voice low and even.

I obeyed, each step deliberate, my body tuned to every sound, every faint current of air that might give me a clue. The floor changed under my feet, from hardwood to rug, and then his fingers grazed my hip—light, brief, and enough to send heat crawling up my spine.

It wasn’t the usual kind of heat he gave me. This was… different. Softer. And maybe that’s why I noticed he wasn’t holding me as long as he could, wasn’t lingering the way I wanted him to. It was tempting as hell but just out of reach—like he’d drawn a line and was determined not to cross it.

Fine. I could work with that.

No kissing today? No problem. That didn’t mean it was going to stay that way.

I felt him step behind me again, the faint brush of air shifting as he moved. Another command. Another precise touch to adjust me. We’d been at this long enough for the room to feel warm, my skin humming with the attention.

When he stepped back this time, I turned my head toward him without thinking, blindly reaching out until my shoulder brushed his chest.

His voice sharpened instantly. “What are you doing?”

“I thought—”

“You thought you could touch me without permission?”

I hesitated, grinning a little even though I couldn’t see his reaction. “You always say I should want to be closer to you.”

“That’s not what I said.” His tone was low and dangerous in a way that made my pulse jump. “This is not about you getting what you want. This is about you learning to give me what I ask for… and nothing else.”

I shifted my weight, impatient but once more seductive. “I can do that… I can give you what you want… Sir.”

“Apparently not,” he said, moving away from me. I caught the faint jingle of keys and the creak of the basement door. “If you could, you wouldn’t have just tried to push for more.”

“What are we doing?” I asked, following the sound of his footsteps.

“An exercise in full trust,” he said. “One you won’t forget.”

****

The basement was cooler than upstairs, the faint hum of the dehumidifier in the corner blending with the low music Aiden had left playing. I couldn’t see much under the blindfold, but I could smell leather, faintly metallic chains, and the faint spice of his cologne clinging to the air.

“On the table,” he said, guiding me, voice even. Not sharp. That was almost worse. I held back the urge to grab onto him for comfort, for that safety he always made me feel no matter where we were.

I lay where he told me, the padded surface cool against my bare back. Without another word, he buckled cuffs around my wrists and ankles, securing me to each corner until my body was stretched open in a star. My arms ached slightly from the angle, my legs wide, completely exposed.

“This isn’t a game, Noah,” he said quietly. “It’s an exercise in trust. You give it, or you don’t. There’s no in-between.”

He tightened the blindfold, sealing out even the faintest trace of light. The darkness was instant and absolute, and my breathing quickened before I could stop it—because not seeing meant not anticipating.

I heard him move away. I waited for the soft jingle of a chain, the click of a drawer, or the brush of fingers on my skin. Nothing. Just his footsteps fading.

At first, I stayed relaxed. Or as relaxed as you can be, naked and tied up in your Dom’s basement. Despite the edge of unease coiling in my gut—born from the dark, the blindfold, and the walls I knew were close around me—I was almost giddy with anticipation. Sexual stimulation? Teasing? Hell, even the crack of a spanking would’ve been welcome right now. Anything that meant he was still there, watching, planning what he’d do to me next.

I listened to the faint bass line of the music, imagined his hand on me, the edge of a smirk when I reacted. Minutes passed….

Then I thought I heard the door open and close.

*He’s left. He’s testing me. Wants to see if I’ll freak out.*

*I won’t.*

Time blurred. My muscles loosened. I almost drifted off, letting the music wash over me.

The door again. This time, a smell slipped into the air—clean, crisp, like the faint incense from the tiny chapel my grandmother used to drag me to. It didn’t belong here. It made my skin prickle.

Nothing happened. No touch. No voice.

What if it wasn’t him doing it? What if it was some automatic spray to give me the illusion he was still around? My pulse sped up, a hot knot forming low in my stomach. I couldn’t hear movement, but I could *feel* someone. Or thought I could.

An hour? Two? All day? I had no idea. My mouth felt dry, my shoulders sore. I wanted to move, but the cuffs held me tight, leather digging against my skin. Every bruise and scrape from the week’s practices and his punishments seemed to flare up against the table’s thin padding.

Why was he doing this? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Unless this was his way of reminding me he was in control even when he gave me some of it. Or… maybe he thought I hadn’t given him enough.

The need to speak swelled up in my chest. But asking for help would feel like failure. Like I didn’t trust him.

And wasn’t that the point?

God, I had to pee. And the second I thought it, every other bodily need I could possibly have seemed to hit at once—heat, thirst, the strain in my limbs, the ache in my jaw from clenching.

I gritted my teeth. *Relax, and you’ll pass whatever this is. Relax.*

I couldn’t.

“Aiden…” My voice cracked. “Sir… Are you there?”

Silence.

“Sir—please…”