I ignored it, snapped back into focus to weave the dark strands tighter against her scalp.
It buzzed again. And again.
A picture message came through, the screen lighting up bright enough to catch my eye. I popped the back half of the comb between my lips, and the second I grabbed it, my breath hitched hard in my throat.
It was a photo of Silas. More accurately, a photo of Silas’s torso, dripping wet, taken in a mirror that was actively steaming up. He was wearing nothing but a white hotel towel that was hanging on for dear life. It was slung dangerously low on his hips, the deep V-lines of his pelvis on full, glorious display.
The caption was simple:
Morning view.
Wish it included you on your knees though.
I choked on my next breath.
“You okay?” Lena asked, trying to turn her head to look at me.
“Don’t move,” I commanded, holding her braid tight, my voice sounding slightly strangled. “I just…swallowed wrong.”
I stared at the phone. This was entirely new territory.
During our early hookup years, the secret phase, the “we are definitely not dating” phase, I had always been the instigator. I was the one who pushed the boundaries, sent the suggestive texts, and used my words to fluster him into a stuttering mess. Silas was the receiver. The one who blushed and would text back “Cal!” with absolutely nothing else.
However, since we moved in together, Silas realized us breaking up would be a far more intricate, impossible process than just calling it quits, and the fear of losing mevanished. It was replaced with a possessive, dominating, and sexy level of confidence that I’ve never seen from the man I loved.
Silas Reed’s boldness had quickly made him the biggest pain in my ass.
He had discovered the power that came with being the object of desire, and wielded it with zero responsibility. He knew exactly what a picture like that woulddo to me. Stuck in a room floors above him, forbidden by management from going downstairs to touch him.
You are playing a dangerous game for a man locked in a hotel room.
Put some clothes on before you catch a cold.
The reply was instantaneous.
It’s 90 degrees outside.
Make me.
Evan is still asleep. I’m bored. And I’m hard.
Thinking about the last time you had me against the bathroom counter.
A second photo came through.
This one was angled lower. The towel was completely gone, and instead of a photo in the bathroom mirror, it was taken from the front camera. He was fully hard, and fuck did the sight do awfully delicious things to my brain. His hand was holding his large cock in full view of the camera. The thick, prominent vein which ran along the underside of his shaft was on full agonizing display. I knew it must be pulsing, because it always did when Silas was hard. His cock was a bit darker than the rest of him, his natural skin tone more prevalent below the waist. But fuck, it made my mouth water with pure excitement.
My hands shook, jaw going slack at the sight of him, causing the comb in my mouth to slip and hit Lena in the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“Sorry,” I muttered, quickly locking my phone screen and slamming it face-down on the table, so she couldn’t see my impending ruin.
My heart hammered a frantic, heavy rhythm against my ribs. A hot flush creeped up my neck that had absolutely nothing to do with the room temperature.
This was the problem with Silas finally letting go of his control when it came to us, he took mine right along with him.
“Is Nice Dad losing his mind?” Lena asked, picking up the comb from the floor and handing it back to me. “The separation is getting to him, isn’t it?”
