Page 24 of Kane
William.
My shy little academic with the soul of a true submissive. He moves like a deer stepping into a clearing—cautious, every sense on high alert, yet drawn forward by something he can’t resist.
I can read him perfectly: the slight tremble in his shoulders, the way his fingers clutch the strap of his backpack like it’s a lifeline, the flush already rising on his cheeks.
Nerves. Excitement.Fear.
A perfect cocktail that makes my blood run hotter.
William knows exactly what I am.Danger. A man who exists in a world of blood and power plays, nothing like the safe, bookish young men or otherwise who probably orbit his university life.
I represent the sharp edge he’s secretly craved. The contrast makes my cock twitch… his soft, orderly existence colliding with my brutal reality. And still, he came. Not a second late.
William stops two paces away, eyes wide, breath shallow. Smart boy. He senses the shift in the air, the way the quiet library has become my domain tonight.
“Backpack off,” I say, voice low and calm. “Place it on the table.”
William’s hands shake as he slips the straps from his shoulders. The bag lands on the oak surface with a soft thud. He’s trembling now, visible little shivers running through his frame, but he doesn’t run.
“Stand up straight,” I bark. “Shoulders back. Eyes forward.”
He obeys instantly. No hesitation. His posture straightens, wanting to obey me as best he can. The obedience sends a surge of dark satisfaction through me.
This is what I need.Totalcontrol.
After the chaos of Viktor, the weight of being pakhan, the ghosts of my brothers… here, with William, I am completely in command.
I step forward and unzip his backpack. My fingers brush against soft fabric—the otter stuffie—and notebooks before I find what I’m looking for. A shiny red apple, clearly part of his packed lunch. Perfect.
“Open your mouth,” I growl. “Wide.”
William’s lips part. I place the apple between his teeth, the smooth skin pressing against his pretty mouth.
“Hold it there with your teeth. Hands on your head. Fingers laced. Do not drop the apple, Daddy commands it.”
William obeys again, raising his arms. The position pushes his sweater up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale skin above his jeans.
Vulnerable. On display. Mine to play with.
I reach for the button of his jeans. The metal gives way easily under my fingers. I slide the zipper down slowly, deliberately, letting him feel every inch of exposure. Then I tug the denim down his thighs, past his knees, all the way to his ankles. His legs are smooth and toned from cycling. And there they are—tight, high-cut race-car red briefs that hug the curve of his ass like they were made to be ripped and torn right off his body.
I run my palm over one cheek, then the other.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Three quick, sharp spanks. Not hard enough to make him yelp, but enough to warm him. Muffled moans escape around the apple. His body jolts with each one, the fabric of his briefs shifting and riding deliciously.
“Such a pretty little ass,” I murmur. “Already learning who it belongs to.”
I turn back to his backpack and dig deeper. My hand closes around something wooden and smooth—a ruler. I pull it out, testing its weight. Solid. Perfect for correction.
I swish the ruler through the air once, twice. The sharpwhooshcuts through the silence. William’s eyes widen with genuine fear. That look—pure, unfiltered panic mixed with desperate arousal—delights me more than it should.
The boy is terrified. And rock-hard. I can already see the package at the front of his briefs growing thick and prominent.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his briefs and drag them down to join his jeans at his ankles. His neatly trimmed pubic hair comes into view, the soft blonde curls glistening with arousal. His cock bounces and stands tall and proud as his cheeks flush red.
“Stay still. Keep that apple in your mouth.”
