I didn’t want her to stop touching me.
Didn’t want her to notice the tension locked in my body, the way her scent — coconut and heat and something that felt like temptation — was sinking into me and settling low. I stayed perfectly still, breathing slow, because if she caught on, I wasn’t sure I could keep control.
The longer she worked, the more it hit me.
Her voice.
It was my mother’s.
The same quiet strength. The same way pain lived just under the surface, never fully healed, just endured. That realization twisted something deep in my chest.
That was the moment desire turned into something darker.
Something permanent.
I knew then — without hesitation — that I would burn whatever stood in her way. That I would protect Rebecca Valentine at any cost, even from things she didn’t know were coming.
When the session ended, she wiped my back clean, stepping back to admire her work.
I paid her.
Thanked her.
Told her I couldn’t wait to finish the piece.
She smiled like it was just business.
She had no idea.
She’d see me again soon.
And next time, it wouldn’t be under bright shop lights with buzzing machines and rules between us.
Next time, she’d step into my world.
And by the time she realized what that meant —
After Silas left the shop, he went home to clean up and shower, having cleared the entire day for his session with Becca. He couldn't stop thinking about her all the way home—the way she moved, the way she breathed,the electricity between them. He shifted restlessly in his seat as Jace drove him back. When they pulled up to his property, Jace dropped him off and headed back to the office to prepare for a new mission they had scheduled for tonight.
Silas stepped into his beautiful home—a custom barn dominium built on twelve acres of private land. High ceilings soared above the open floor plan, and the master suite featured walk-in closets that could house a small boutique. He made his way to the master bathroom, already peeling off his clothes as he went.
Naked, he stood before the mirror for a moment, still thinking about Becca and their session together. The memory of her touch lingered on his skin like a phantom caress. He stepped into his spacious stand-up shower, where three shower heads came to life, cascading hot water over him from multiple angles. Steam quickly filled the space, wrapping around him like a warm embrace.
He began to lather his body, but all he could see were flashbacks—Becca's smile, the way she exhaled close to him, her fingertips trailing across his skin. His cock began to harden again, responding to the vivid memories playing behind his closed eyelids.
Silas grippedthe base of his dick and stroked slowly toward the tip, adding more soap as he went. He braced one hand against the tile wall while the other worked his shaft with deliberate, measured strokes. He began to rotate his hips slowly, thinking about Becca, imagining all the positions he was planning to put her in.
His pace quickened. He pictured her beautiful, tattooed body, that soft skin he'd barely gotten to touch, imagined her sitting on top of him wearing nothing but black lace underwear. In his mind, her breasts were drenched with his saliva from the amount of kissing and sucking he'd lavish on what he could only imagine were perfect pink nipples.
He stroked faster now, his breathing growing ragged. He thought about what it would feel like to fuck her so thoroughly, so completely, that she'd be full of his cum—marked, claimed, satisfied. The fantasy consumed him, and the more he stroked his cock, the closer he felt his release approaching.
Leaning his head against the cool tile wall, he moaned her name—"Rebecca"—and seconds later, thick ropes of cum released, spattering against the shower wall before being washed away by the cascading water.
Satisfaction. It was what he wanted, but now it was what heneeded—and only Rebecca could give it to him.
Silas stood there for a long moment, chest heaving, letting the water wash away the evidence of his desire. The steam continued to billow around him, but his mind was already racing ahead. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had gotten under his skin like this—so quickly, so completely.
He finished washing, taking his time now, methodically soaping and rinsing every inch of his body. When he finally stepped out of the shower, he grabbed one of the oversized charcoal-gray towels from the heated rack and dried himself off, running the soft fabric over his shoulders, chest, and down his legs.
