"I have clients everywhere," he said, not looking up from the fish he was seasoning. "That's how I run my business."
"On the island?"
"Sometimes."
"While you're with me?"
He set down his knife and turned to face me fully. "Nyne, we've talked about this. You can't catch feelings. I'm here to help you learn your body. That's it. That's all this is."
"I'm not catching feelings," I lied. "I'm just asking a question."
"Are you?" He stepped closer, his eyes boring into mine. "Because it sounds like you're upset that I have other clients. It sounds like you think you should be my only priority."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle despite the hardness in his voice. "Listen to me. I care about you. I want to help you. But I can't give you what you're looking for. I don't have love to give. I can make you cum. I can teach you about your body. But that's where it ends."
I nodded, even though it felt like he was breaking something inside me that I'd just started to put back together.
The next day, he called me into his office and told me it was time to try something different.
"I want you to touch yourself," he said, already undressing. "While I do the same. We'll be in the room together, but you're in control of your own pleasure."
I felt my cheeks heat up. "You want me to... masturbate? In front of you?"
"Yes." He was already naked, his dick hardening as he settled into his chair. "Come here."
I undressed slowly, hyperaware of his eyes on me. When I was naked, I sat on the edge of the massage table, my legs slightly parted.
"Closer," he instructed. "I want to see you."
I moved to the center of the table, lying back slightly, propped up on my elbows so I could see him and he could see me.
"Now touch yourself. Show me what feels good."
My hand moved between my legs hesitantly. I'd touched myself before, of course, but never like this. Never with someone watching. Never with someone I wanted so badly.
I started slow, my fingers finding my clit and moving in small circles. It felt different when I was doing it—less intense than when Syx's mouth was on me, but also more intimate somehow. More mine.
"That's it," Syx murmured, his hand wrapped around his dick, stroking slowly. "Don't rush it. Just feel it."
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sensation, but I kept opening them to watch him. His chest was rising and falling faster. His jaw was clenched. He was watching me like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"Keep your eyes on me," he commanded softly.
I did. And as I watched him stroke himself, as I felt the building pressure between my legs, something shifted. My mind quieted. The constant chatter that usually pulled me away from the edge went silent. There was just me, my body, and the man watching me like he wanted to devour me.
The pressure built and built, my breathing getting faster, my movements getting more urgent. Syx's strokes matched my rhythm, and we were moving together, connected by nothing but our eyes and our need.
"That's it, baby," he whispered. "Let it happen. Don't fight it."
And I didn't. For the first time in my life, I felt it—that wave of pleasure that started at my core and radiated outward, making my whole body shake. My back arched off the table. A sound escaped my mouth that I didn't even recognize as my own. My pussy clenched around nothing, my hips thrusting up into my own hand as the orgasm rolled through me.
"Fuck," Syx groaned, and I watched as he came too, his cum spilling over his hand as he continued stroking himself through his release.
When it was over, I lay there trembling, unable to move, unable to speak. I'd done it. I'd actually fucking done it.
Syx cleaned himself up and came over to me, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
