And whether I’ll be on time…
Chapter 6
Kane
“That boy…” I mutter. “That damn boy…”
I push through the heavy oak doors of the library and step into the night, the cool air hitting my face like a much-needed slap.
My blood is still humming, thick with adrenaline and something far more dangerous… satisfaction.
William.
That shy little blonde with the big eyes and the even bigger defiance. He took his spanking like he was made for it. Bent over that old oak table, jeans and delectable briefs around his ankles, his perfect ass turning pink under my palm.
Each smack had landed exactly where I wanted it, and he hadn’t screamed, hadn’t fought. Just those soft, breathy whimpers and the way his body trembled: half fear, half desperate need.
Fuck. It wasbeautiful.
I adjust my suit jacket as I descend the stone steps, my cock still half-hard at the memory. The way he’d looked back at me afterward, flushed and breathless, bottom glowing red… he hadn’t run. Not really. He’d taken it. Accepted my control.
That’s rarer than people think.
Most boys in that scene play at submission. They want the fuzzy handcuffs and the “good boy” praise without any real edge. But William? He has that sweet Little core wrapped around something tougher. Something that craves a firm hand.Myhand.
William might not fully realize it yet, but he was made to be my boy.
It’s just a question of making sure that happens and showing him that even if he could run, he wouldn’t want too…
The city streets are quieter now, the late-night crowd thinning into shadows and distant sirens. Streetlights cast long pools of yellow on the pavement as I walk, hands in my pockets, shoes clicking with purpose.
My mind keeps replaying it: the sharp sound of my palm meeting his bare skin, the heat radiating off his ass, the way his thighs pressed together like he was fighting not to grind against the table. I gave himexactlywhat his sass deserved. And he loved it.
A low chuckle escapes me.
All the Daddies he’s probably known before me? Soft.Average. The kind of safe, domesticated men who read Daddy Dom manuals and think aftercare means hot cocoa and a playlist.
Men who’ve never had to make life-or-death decisions before breakfast.
Never buried brothers.
Never stared down the barrel of a rival’s gun and smiled.
They play at dominance in their nice apartments with their nice rules. Iamdominance. I’ve carved power out of blood and fear. In my world, control isn’t a game—it’s survival. And tonight, for a few perfect minutes in that dusty reference section, I reminded one sweet Little exactly what a real Daddy can do.
Contempt curls my lip. Those soft so-called men don’t deserve a boy like William. They’d crumble the second real darkness touched their lives.
Me? I thrive in it.
And something tells me William’s been waiting for exactly that kind of man—whether he want to admit it to himself or not.
The thought puts a fresh edge on my hunger. I need a drink. Something strong to toast the night. I know a place nearby…Shotgun Corner. A proper dive bar tucked between an abandoned warehouse and a row of shuttered shops.
No hipster bullshit.
Just dim lights, scarred wood, and people who mind their own damn business.
I push open the heavy door a few minutes later. The familiar smell of stale beer, cigarette smoke, even though it’s banned, and something faintly metallic hits me. Home turf energy. A couple of rough-looking regulars glance my way but quickly look back at their glasses.Smart. I take a stool at the far end of the bar, back to the wall, eyes on the room.
