This man carries a kind of sensuality that feels reverent. It’s a quiet, sacred sort of love you’d expect to find pulled straight from the movie,Jason’s Lyric. Only instead of a bayou soaked in heat and heartbreak, it lives in a sprawling home that disguises its luxury behind timber and stone. A home by appearance. A sanctuary in truth.
We’re in his study. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books that look handled, reread, and lived with. Knowledge gathered with intention. And instead of the stiff leather chairs you’dexpect in a room like this, there are deep sofas, layered throws, pillows placed where bodies are meant to linger. Corners designed for thinking. For reading. For being still.
But tonight, the room has shifted into a sensual sex den.
Candles burn low, their light catching on the wood and fabric, turning the space intimate and warm. The air feels charged, almost ceremonial—as if he designed this space, this night, for a sacrifice. And with the gentle way he touches me, I don’t question a thing.
I step into the moment willingly, offering myself to him. Because whatever this is, it feels less like surrender and more like being chosen.
And that song. Thatfuckingsong I used to play on repeat in college. Over and over, like if I listened hard enough it might finally explain me back to myself.
Because no matter how smart I was, how busy I stayed, how much I achieved, there was always a quiet ache underneath it all. The sense that I was too much to be fully seen. Too layered to be understood. Too intense to be loved without conditions. And when I lost the one person I believed was built to meet me there, I made a decision. That I wouldn’t let anyone get that close again.
But now, here in this moment, I’m almost grateful that I didn’t. Grateful for the way I held myself back. For the way I protected what was still tender.
Grateful that I was preserved for him.
I spread my legs wide for him, an open invitation I know he is eager to accept. With a low, guttural sound of pleasure, he moves between them, his large body a warm, heavy shadow over mine. He doesn’t pause, his head dipping low, his tongue an eager, insistent instrument. He gently, yet firmly, spreads my lips with the tip of his tongue, seeking immediate access.
An instinctive, primal arch courses through me, a reflexive response to the exquisite sensation. I lift my hips, offering myself up to him, a silent plea for more, for everything.
He is positioned perfectly, tasting me from behind, a novel and utterly intoxicating angle. I’ve never been adored quite like this, but fuck if I don’t love it. The filth of it.
The way he licks, the way he sucks, the way he buries his face in me with an almost desperate hunger is overwhelming.
A moan rips from my throat, a sound I barely recognize as my own. I can’t help but move, my hips rocking back and forth, riding his face with an urgency that matches his devotion.
I am riding the wave of pure, unfiltered pleasure that began so innocently with his sensual massage minutes ago. Now, it is cresting, threatening to break over me, leaving my body trembling and my soul snatched clean away. Each draw of his breath, each powerful stroke of his tongue, is a step closer to a complete and utter sensory surrender. The air thickens with our mutual desire, and I know this is more than just sensation—it is a profound connection forged in the fires of lust and adoration.
And fuck I want it. Need it.
Til death.
The Most Eligible Bear in Town
Max
It’s Wednesday morning and by the time we make it to Eli’s office, I already know something’s up. Not because anyone warned me, but because Lara is practically vibrating.
She’s seated across from me at the conference table, tablet in hand, eyes bright in that way people get when they’re sitting on information they’ve been dying to share. The room smells faintly of coffee and wood polish. Still, yet commanding. Very Eli. Which only makes whatever Lara’s about to say feel louder by contrast.
“So,” she says, barely waiting for me to sit. “I don’t know how much Drake’s already told you, but—”
“Let me guess,” I cut in. “Social media is on fire.”
Her mouth drops open. “How did you—”
“Drake mentioned he had a master plan to knock Vanessa off her game,” I say. “Yesterday he warned me the leaks would start today. I just assumed the drama would follow.”
She laughs, relieved. “Okay, yes. There are… stories.”
I fold my hands on the table. “That part I expected. I knew he was going to plant some narratives about me and Eli being a thing.” I pause, studying her expression. “What I didn’t expect is you looking like my name just surfaced in files that were part of a federal investigation.”
Lara turns the tablet toward me.
Oh.
Oh.
