THE CONTRACT’S EDGE

Aiden stepped out of Vane Tower into the crisp morning air, the signed contract burning a hole in his pocket like a live wire. The ink was still fresh, his signature a neat scrawl next to Silas’s elegant flourish. On paper, it was employment. In truth, it was a surrender wrapped in professionalism. His body still humming from the desk encountered Silas’s cock stretching him, the possessive growl in his ear, the hot flood that left him marked. He adjusted his tie, trying to ignore the ache between his legs, the way his skin flushed at the memory.

Back at the apartment, Marcus paced like a caged animal. “So? What did the bastard want?” His blond hair was tousled, eyes bloodshot from another sleepless night dodging process servers.

“A job,” Aiden said flatly, tossing the contract copy onto the table. “Personal assistant. Pays well enough to cover your mess.”

Marcus snatched it up, scanning the pages. “Vane Industries? That psycho from school? The one you used to—”

“Shut up, Marc.” Aiden’s voice cracked like a whip. “You don’t get to judge. Not after what you did.”

Marcus deflated, sinking onto the couch. The embezzlement had started innocently enough small transfers to cover gambling debts after a bad streak at underground poker tables. Then it escalated: fake consulting fees to shell companies he controlled, rerouting vendor payments, siphoning client escrow funds. Millions vanished into luxury cars, private jets, and bribes to keep auditors quiet. When the SEC sniffed around, Marcus panicked, forging documents to pin discrepancies on lower-level execs. The scandal exploded, Blackwood Media’s stock tanked, investors fled, their father drank himself into an early grave from shame. Marcus’s “deceptive smile” had fooled everyone, including Aiden, until the arrests started.

“I thought I could fix it,” Marcus muttered. “One big score, pay it all back. But the house always wins.”

Aiden’s fists clenched. “You didn’t just lose money. You destroyed us. And now I’m cleaning up your shit by… by letting him use me.”

Marcus looked up, guilt etching deeper lines. “Use you how?”

Aiden turned away, throat tight. “Doesn’t matter. Just stay out of trouble until the lawyers sort it.”

But trouble was already here. That anonymous text from last night replayed: I know what Marcus did. And it’s worse than you think. Aiden hadn’t told Marcus. Not yet. Whoever sent it knew details of the offshore accounts, the forged signatures. Blackmail? A rival? Or Silas, tightening the leash?

Three days later, Aiden reported for duty. Elena Voss met him in the lobby of Silas's COO, an elegant redhead with sharp wit and sharper eyes. Lesbian, unflappable, she sized him up like code she could debug.

“Blackwood,” she said, extending a manicured hand. “Welcome to the madhouse. Silas is… intense. Don’t let him break you on day one.”

Aiden forced a smile. “Too late for that.”

She arched a brow but led him up. The executive floor was sleek efficiency glass walls, humming servers, views that made the city look conquerable. Silas’s office door stood open. He lounged against the desk, sleeves rolled to reveal corded forearms, stormy eyes tracking Aiden like prey.

“Right on time,” Silas said, voice gravel-rough. “Strip.”

Aiden froze. “Here?”

Elena had already vanished, the door clicking shut behind her. Silas pushed off the desk, closing the distance. “The door's locked. Cameras off. Strip, Aiden. Or walk out now.”

Sexual tension crackled, thick enough to choke on. Aiden’s pulse thundered. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, fabric whispering against skin. Silas watched, hungry, scarred lip curling. Shirt off, pants next until Aiden stood bare, cock already half-hard from the command alone.

Silas circled him, fingers trailing down Aiden’s spine, raising goosebumps. “Beautiful. And mine.” He shoved Aiden toward the floor-to-ceiling window, pressing his chest to the glass. City sprawl blurred below. “Hands on the pane. Don’t move.”

Aiden obeyed, palms flat, breath fogging the glass. Silas dropped to his knees behind him, spreading Aiden’s cheeks. Hot tongue licked a stripe from balls to hole, teasing the rim. Aiden moaned, hips jerking. Silas delved deeper, tongue probing, swirling, fucking him open with wet, filthy precision. Aiden’s cock throbbed untouched, leaking pre-cum that dripped to the carpet.

“Silas—fuck—”

Silas stood, unzipping. Slick fingers replaced tongue—two, then three, scissoring roughly. Aiden pushed back, craving more. Silas aligned, thrusting in one brutal stroke. Aiden cried out, forehead thumping glass as Silas filled him completely. The pounding started relentless deep, claiming, each snap of hips driving Aiden onto his toes.

Silas’s hand wrapped Aiden’s throat from behind, squeezing just enough to blur the edges. “Feel that? Every inch owning you.” He angled, nailing prostate repeatedly. Aiden’s moans turned desperate, body trembling. Silas’s other hand stroked Aiden in time with thrusts firm, twisting at the head.

“Come for me,” Silas growled, biting Aiden’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. Aiden shattered, spilling hot across the window, clenching around Silas. Silas followed with a guttural roar, flooding him deep, hips stuttering.

They stayed locked, panting. Silas pulled out slowly, cum trickling down Aiden’s thigh. He turned Aiden, kissing him fiercely possessive, almost tender. “Good boy.”

Aiden dressed on shaky legs, Silas watching. “Your first assignment: accompany me to Tokyo next week. High-stakes merger. You’ll be useful… in more ways than one.”

Aiden nodded, still dazed. As he left, Elena waited in the hall, smirking. “Survived?”

“Barely.”

She handed him a tablet. “Schedule. And a warning: Victor Kane’s sniffing around our deals. Watch your back.”

Aiden’s phone buzzed again with the same unknown number: Ask Silas about the night Marcus tried to kill him. Sweet dreams.

His blood iced. Assassination? Marcus? The pieces didn’t fit yet. But Silas’s obsession, the vendetta… it all pointed to something buried deep.

That night, alone in bed, Aiden touched the bite mark on his shoulder, arousal mixing with dread. Silas had him leashed. But if Marcus had secrets that dark, Aiden was walking into a trap blind.

And the next text lit his screen: Run while you can. Or become collateral.