DESIRES

Aaron sank back onto the crisp white sheets of his room, letting out a long, shuddering sigh. The heat of last night still lingered over his body—the firm, commanding hands of Slate tracing every line, every curve, leaving him raw, aching, and restless. He closed his eyes, recalling the sharp smacks against his ass, the teasing bite of lips on his tattoos, the way Slate’s low, controlled voice had drilled him into obedience.

His body still pulsed with need, every nerve ending alive, and yet a tiny, guilty part of him relished the surrender. He rolled onto his side, hugging the pillow to his chest, trying to settle, to convince himself it was enough. But it never was.

The faint creak of the floorboards made him freeze. A prickling awareness spread through his skin, a ripple of unease. Someone was here. His eyes snapped open. The room was dim, shadows pooling in the corners, but the scent hit him smoky, musky, layered with manly fragrance, not Slate. Not Zayden.

Aaron’s heart thumped, quickening in a way that had nothing to do with fear. Something in his gut told him to bolt, yet every inch of him wanted to stay. The phone buzzed in his pocket, a text from Mira, but he ignored it. He didn’t need anyone’s voice, no interruptions. Not now.

A tall figure emerged from the darkness near the doorway. He stepped forward with deliberate grace, shoulders broad, tattoos snaking up his arms and disappearing under the crisp black shirt he wore. His presence filled the room Every hair on Aaron’s arms stood on end. He was impossibly handsome, with a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, dark eyes that glimmered like midnight, and lips curved in a half-smirk that immediately made Aaron shiver.

Aaron swallowed, trying to keep his composure, but his body betrayed him. A wet heat pooled between his thighs, and he realized, embarrassingly, how instantly, how uncontrollably, he was attracted to this stranger.

“You’re… Aaron, right?” The man’s voice was smooth, velvety, with an accent that slithered along Aaron’s spine.

Aaron nodded, speechless. He could feel the stranger’s gaze running over him—curious, playful, lingering just long enough to ignite every nerve.

The man stepped closer, and the heat radiating off him was intoxicating. “Quite the room,” he said, smirking. “But not as impressive as you.”

Aaron’s breath caught. He wanted to speak, to ask who he was, but the words stuck. His body was betraying him—leaning forward, desperate for the proximity, the contact, the teasing weight of that smirk.

Just then, the door swung open with a soft click, and Slate appeared, expression carved in stern lines, eyes darkening with a storm Aaron had never fully seen before. The tension in the room thickened immediately.

“Aaron,” Slate said, voice low and dangerous, like the sound of steel dragging across stone. His gaze snapped to the stranger, measuring, assessing, possessive. “Who is this?”

The stranger tilted his head slightly, smirk widening. “Looking for Zayden. I didn’t expect to find… you,” he said, voice teasing, drawing out the last word with a playful emphasis that made Aaron’s stomach clench.

Slate’s jaw tightened, and Aaron could see it: jealousy, protective instinct, a line crossed that Slate hadn’t anticipated. Slate moved a step closer to Aaron, almost imperceptibly shielding him, yet his eyes never left the intruder.

Aaron’s pulse thundered. He felt exposed, between the magnetism of this stranger and Slate’s silent claim. He noticed details he hadn’t before: the stranger’s tattoos curling around his arms like dark vines, the way his chest rose under the tight shirt, the way his eyes glinted with mischief and danger. The stranger was intoxicating. Dangerous. And he made Aaron ache.

“Who… what is going on?” Aaron managed to whisper, voice trembling—not from fear, but from heat, from the electric friction in the room.

The stranger’s eyes flicked to him, piercing, evaluating, lips curling. “You don’t know, do you?” His tone was playful, teasing, and every word felt like it was crawling under Aaron’s skin.

Aaron’s mind raced. He needed to understand, to move, to feel but he also needed air, space, a second to catch his racing heart. Every instinct screamed at him to leave the room, to escape this intoxicating tension before it consumed him entirely.

The stranger stepped even closer, eyes tracing Aaron’s form deliberately. “Going somewhere?” His accent softened the threat into something teasing, seductive, and Aaron felt his knees weaken.

Slate’s gaze sharpened, the room’s temperature rising as he silently claimed Aaron’s attention, body, and heat. Slate leaned in slightly, his breath hot, voice clipped. “Not now.”

The stranger chuckled, low, amused, his eyes never leaving Aaron. “Oh, I insist. You’re far too tempting to let slip away so easily.”

Aaron’s hands trembled. He was wet, needy, and desperate, every nerve ending on fire. His body was betraying him, responding to a man he didn’t even know, while Slate’s presence was a constant reminder of what he wanted and feared simultaneously.

The tension broke for a heartbeat when Slate’s voice softened, uncharacteristically low, warning. “Aaron, don’t.”

Aaron froze. Don’t know what? Leave? Touch him? Melt into his desire? The ambiguity was torturous.

The stranger smirked, voice playful, commanding. “It’s fun watching you,” he said, stepping closer heat rolling off him in waves that made Aaron shiver uncontrollably.

Aaron’s chest heaved, thoughts tangled, body alight with sensations that left him trembling. He was caught between the danger, the desire, and the intoxicating thrill of the unknown. Every instinct screamed yes, but the walls of the mansion, Slate’s unspoken rules, and the shadow of Zayden’s power reminded him—he was not free. Not yet.

And yet… he couldn’t resist.

I could feel the stranger’s eyes on me, dark and consuming, his gaze teasing and patient all at once. Every second stretched painfully, deliciously. My skin prickled as if it could sense him touching me, though there was nothing but air between us. My body betrayed me completely—my chest rose unevenly, my stomach fluttered, and the wet heat pooling in my core left me trembling.

“Relax,” the stranger said softly, almost a whisper, yet every word vibrated through my chest. His accent made it sound like honey melting over steel, a mixture that had my knees weakening. He circled slowly, like a predator assessing his prey, and I hated how much I wanted to be that prey.

Slate didn’t move, not a muscle, but I could feel the weight of his gaze pressing into my spine. Protective. Angry. Jealous. And… frustrated. Every breath I drew seemed to thrum with tension. Slate’s hand twitched near his side, fingers clenching and unclenching, an almost imperceptible warning—and something else, something primal.

“Do you always respond this… quickly?” the stranger asked, voice low, teasing. He stopped behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body against mine, but not touching. I inhaled sharply, tasting the faint trace of his cologne—smoky, dark, with a bite of spice that made my stomach flutter. Not Slate. Not Zayden. Not anyone I had ever known.

I wanted to turn, to look into those smoldering eyes, but Slate’s presence anchored me in place. The tension was unbearable as I tried to ground myself.

“You’re… different,” I whispered. My own voice startled me with how breathless it was.

“Different how?” he asked, voice silk and smoke.

I swallowed, my pulse racing. “I… I don’t know. I just…” I trailed off, unsure whether I wanted to confess or run.

“Shh,” he murmured, leaning just a little closer. His hand hovered near mine, teasing, playful. “You’re already telling me more than you should.”

Slate cleared his throat, sharp and commanding. “Aaron,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Step away.”

I felt my stomach twist. Slate wasn’t angry at me—he was angry at the stranger. Angry that I was already reacting, already leaning toward him, my body betraying the very rules I had barely begun to understand.

The stranger laughed softly, a low, amused sound that sent shivers down my spine. “You’re quite the pet,” he said, circling me slowly again. “And your protector… jealous, hmm?”

Slate’s jaw tightened, and for the first time, I saw something fierce flare in his dark eyes. He stepped closer, positioning himself subtly between the stranger and me, his presence solid, magnetic, possessive.

I swallowed, heart hammering. Everything about this room, this house, this world I’d stumbled into, was dangerous. Erotic. Uncontrollable. And I loved every agonizing second.

The stranger’s gaze lingered on me, playful but calculating. “Going somewhere?” he asked again, tone teasing, voice curling around my ears like smoke. I felt my knees weaken, my skin tingle, my core ignite.

Slate’s hand brushed my arm, subtle, almost accidental, and I shivered violently. “Aaron,” he said, tone clipped, warning. But his eyes betrayed him—want, frustration, the barest hint of longing.

The stranger leaned closer, letting his words brush my ear, teasing, intoxicating. “¿A dónde vas, mi pet?”

Every nerve in my body hummed with desire, fear, and the thrill of something I shouldn’t do. I couldn’t resist the pull. I couldn’t. Slate’s protective shadow, the stranger’s dark magnetism, and my own reckless curiosity collided in a storm that left me breathless.

I stepped back, quietly, carefully, trying to gather my thoughts, trying to ground myself—but the stranger’s gaze followed me, playful, expectant, like he already knew exactly what I was thinking.

I reached for my jacket, heart racing. The stranger’s smirk widened. “Going somewhere?” he repeated, voice low, teasing, full of promise.

Slate’s glare sharpened. “Aaron—”

“I have to,” I whispered, almost to myself. My pulse was racing. My body was hot, wet, restless, needing more than I could admit. I had to see him, the stranger. Had to understand the pull, the dangerous allure.

I slipped out quietly, toes barely touching the polished floors, heart hammering in my chest. The mansion seemed to stretch endlessly, halls dark and quiet, yet pulsing with hidden power. I could feel eyes on me everywhere—cameras, mirrors, perhaps even Zayden himself—but the stranger’s teasing voice echoed in my mind, pulling me forward.

“¿A dónde vas, mi pet?”

My lips parted, breath catching. I didn’t answer, but I didn’t need to. My body, mind, and heart had already made the choice.

The air outside the mansion was crisp, almost shockingly so after the heated tension indoors. My heart thundered in my chest, not just from the night with Slate but from the intoxicating pull of the stranger. Every nerve in my body felt alive, buzzing with adrenaline and want. My feet moved almost automatically, following the echo of his presence like a moth drawn to flame.

I didn’t know where I was going, only that I couldn’t stop. The stranger had me under some invisible spell. His smirk, his teasing voice, the way he looked at me like I was both toy and treasure—it had me weak in the knees.

A streetlamp flickered above, casting his silhouette long and dark. He leaned casually against the wrought-iron fence at the edge of the estate, arms crossed, tattoos tracing across his forearms and disappearing under his shirt sleeves. He was tall—easily a head above me—and his presence was magnetic, almost gravitational. My stomach fluttered at the sight of inked muscles, a sharp jawline, and the way his eyes glinted with playful danger.

“Ah, finally,” he said, voice low and smooth, carrying a teasing rhythm that made me shiver. “I was beginning to think you’d chicken out.”

I swallowed hard, cheeks flushing. “I… I had to see…” My voice faltered, useless in capturing the whirlwind inside me.

He pushed off the fence, moving closer, each step deliberate, hips swaying slightly in a rhythm that made my pulse spike. My body betrayed me completely, core already wet, every inch of me craving the slightest touch. His gaze roamed over me slowly, playfully, and I couldn’t help but shiver, tilting my head instinctively toward him.

“You’re even more… tempting up close,” he murmured, eyes darkening with curiosity. “Do you always carry this much… heat?”

I bit my lip, trying to hide my trembling. “I… I don’t know,” I whispered.

He smiled, amused, teasing, then stepped closer still, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. Every instinct in me screamed that this was dangerous, that I shouldn’t, couldn’t, allow myself to be drawn in. And yet, I couldn’t stop. His energy pulled me in like tide and moon, irresistible.

Suddenly, Slate appeared behind me, sharp and imposing. His presence slammed into me like a wall, possessive and dangerous. His dark eyes locked onto the stranger, and I could feel the tension spike in the air. Slate’s jaw tightened, lips pressing into a thin line, fists clenching slightly at his sides. He was clearly not pleased.

The stranger didn’t flinch. Instead, he smirked, playful, almost daring Slate to make a move. “So… this is your shadow?” he asked, voice silk and steel.

Slate’s glare was icy, dangerous. “Stay back,” he said, tone low and warning.

I froze between them, breath caught, heart hammering. The air between the three of us was electric, charged with unspoken rules, unbridled desire, and tension that left me trembling. Every muscle in my body pulsed with want, confusion, and fear all at once.

The stranger tilted his head, studying me carefully, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “And you… little pet,” he said, his gaze darkening. “You’re much braver than I expected.”

I couldn’t speak. Slate’s hand brushed against my arm subtly, a silent reminder of boundaries, but I wanted—needed—more. Every fiber of me ached with want, every thought consumed by the pull of this dangerous, gorgeous stranger.

“¿A dónde vas, mi pet?” he whispered again, voice low, teasing.

Something inside me snapped. Desire, curiosity, and reckless curiosity fused into a single impulse. I leaned forward slightly, heart hammering. Slate’s sharp exhale warned me, but I couldn’t stop. The stranger’s gaze promised chaos, pleasure, and danger, and I wanted all of it.

Before Slate could react, I slipped past him, careful, silent, my body shaking with anticipation. My pulse raced, core on fire, as I followed the stranger into the darkened streets. He turned slightly, just enough to flash a playful grin over his shoulder, dark eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“You’re coming with me,” he said softly, almost a command, almost an invitation. “No tricks, no games… just follow.”

I shivered, every nerve alive, knowing that stepping into his world was stepping into danger. But the hunger for him, for the unknown, for the thrill of being wanted, eclipsed every shred of fear. My legs moved, almost against my own will, drawn to him like a magnet.

The stranger stopped at a quiet alleyway, turning to face me fully. His tattoos traced along his arms, disappearing under his rolled-up sleeves, his height and presence overwhelming. His dark hair fell just enough to shadow the edges of his sharp cheekbones, and his gaze held me captive, assessing, playful, and dangerously intimate all at once.

“Relax,” he said, voice low, teasing. “You learn just how wild your world can get.”

I shivered, pulse racing, body quivering with need, excitement, and fear. My lips parted, heart hammering, knowing that every choice from here would pull me deeper into danger, desire, and the unknown. Slate’s presence lingered behind me in memory, protective and possessive, while this stranger—this perfect, tattooed, dangerous stranger—pulled me toward the shadows of a world I hadn’t known existed.

“Follow me,” he whispered again, one hand extending, playful and daring. “Or are you going to run back to your shadow?”

I hesitated only a moment. Then, heart pounding, legs trembling, and body aching with need, I took his hand. And in that instant, I knew I was trapped in something I didn’t start and couldn’t finish.

We came to a stop in front of a door he opened it and we walked in, this was my first time seeing this room never knew a room like this existed here, and just for an unknown person to come choose this, I knew things were not as simple as they seemed.