LOGIN2His grip was not painful, it was firm and Possessive in a way that made my stomach flip.“Liam.”My name in that voice did something dangerous to me. I swallowed hard, staring at the place where his fingers wrapped around my wrist. His thumb rested against the inside, right over my pulse. He had to feel how fast it was racing.“I—” My voice cracked. I tried again. “Shit. I'm sorry. I should go to bed.”He didn’t let go. His eyes lifted from my wrist to my face, and whatever I saw there made my cock throb against the soft fabric of my sweats. There was heat in his gaze. Real, unmistakable heat. And under it, something darker—restraint stretched thin.“You should,” he agreed after a second, but his hand tightened fractionally. The calluses on his palm scraped lightly over my skin. “It’s late.”Neither of us moved.I could hear my own breathing. I could hear his. The space between our bodies felt electric. If I leaned forward even an inch I’d be against his chest. The thought alone mad
Chapter 1I pushed the front door open with my shoulder, backpack sliding down my arm, and almost walked straight into Marcus."Liam—fuck, I’m so sorry.” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, squeezed once, already stepping past me toward the driveway. “My girlfriend just called. We’re doing this late-night trip, like right now. I didn’t know until ten minutes ago. I’m so fucking sorry. I owe you one, okay? Big time. But you can still hang out here, crash, whatever. Go home tomorrow if you want. The house is yours. Dad’s around, just… yeah. I’m really sorry.”And then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him hard enough that the little glass pane rattled. I stood there in the entryway with my backpack still half-on, staring at the empty space where my best friend had just been.The planned sleepover. The whole point of me coming over. Movies, shitty takeout, staying up too late talking about nothing. All of it wiped out in under thirty seconds because his girlfriend snapped
Chapter 4The title, spoken like that while Bill’s fist moved on him, sent a hard jolt straight through Bill’s body. He stroked Nathan more firmly, thumb spreading the slickness down the shaft. Nathan reached between them at the same time, opened Bill’s trousers with less patience, and dragged the black fabric and underwear down far enough to free him. Bill’s cock rose heavy and dark, the head already shining. Nathan closed his fingers around it and matched the rhythm—slow, deliberate, the same filthy cadence Bill was using on him.For a time they simply stroked each other in the chair, mouths open against cheeks and throats, breathing the same air, the wet sounds of their hands the only noise in the study. Then Nathan slid off Bill’s lap and onto his knees on the rug.He looked up once, eyes dark, lips already parted.“I’ve imagined this part more times than I can count.”He took Bill into his mouth.The heat was immediate and overwhelming. Nathan did not tease. He sank down until th
Chapter 3Bill was already hard when the side door opened.He had been hard, on and off, since the final blessing. The memory of Nathan’s voice in the confessional two nights earlier had not left him alone—not during the homily, not during Communion, not while he locked the great doors and walked the empty way in the dark. Every time he closed his eyes he heard it again: the wet, explicit details, the way Nathan had said 'Father' like it was something filthy and sacred at the same time. By the time Bill reached the rectory his cock was a heavy, insistent weight against the black fabric of his trousers, and the collar at his throat felt tighter than it had any right to.He left the study lamp on low. He did not remove the collar. He sat in the armchair and waited with his legs spread just enough to ease the pressure, one hand resting on his thigh, the other curled loosely on the arm of the chair. The clock on the mantel ticked. Outside, the parish grounds were silent.The side door op
2“Yes.” Nathan’s breath hitched once. “Sometimes the fantasy changes. Sometimes I’m the one who takes him. I imagine pushing him back into the confessional, the same one we’re in right now, and climbing into his lap. I imagine unbuttoning that black shirt, exposing the skin underneath, putting my mouth on his chest, his throat, the place just above the collar. I imagine sinking down onto him, taking him inside me that way, riding him while he holds onto the wooden walls of the booth like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling. I imagine making him come so hard he forgets every vow he’s ever spoken. And then I imagine him doing the same to me—turning me around, pressing me against the grille, fucking me from behind while people could walk into the church at any moment. The risk is part of it. The idea that we could be caught, that the whole parish could find out their priest was buried balls-deep in one of his own, makes me come harder than anything else.”Bill’s hands had cur
Chapter 1Father Bill sat in the confessional with his hands folded loosely in his lap and the late afternoon light thinning across the floorboards outside the booth. The church had grown quiet. The last of the regular penitents had already come and gone. Bill had given them their penances in the same even voice he used every Friday, the one that never cracked, never revealed anything.He was thirty-eight. He had been a priest for eleven years. The collar still sat against his throat the way it always had, a familiar weight, but some evenings the weight felt heavier. Loneliness had a way of settling into the spaces between Masses and hospital visits and the long silences of the rectory. He had learned to live with it the way a man learns to live with a dull ache in an old injury—acknowledging it without letting it rule him.Then the door on the other side of the grille opened.Bill knew the sound of that particular step before the man even spoke. He had watched Nathan walk into chur
The drive to Gideon’s penthouse was silent except for the rain still drumming against the car. Gideon’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He didn’t say a word as he pulled into the private underground garage, nor when they rode the elevator up. The moment the penthouse door slammed shut be
Logan Wale slammed the door of his penthouse behind him, the sound echoing through the empty marble foyer. It was barely nine-thirty at night, but the day had been torture. Every time Damon had walked past his office, every lingering glance, every teasing smile had chipped away at his sanity. He re
The next morning, Logan arrived at the office before sunrise, determined to regain control. He’d barely slept, his mind replaying that shameful scene in his chair on loop. The way he’d come like a teenager just from imagining Damonn Vale’s mouth was Pathetic and weak. He would not let it happen aga
Logan Wale paced around his office like a Man on heat. He stopped at some point to stare through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering city below.He was pissed, and rightfully so. He'd single handedly built his company from the ground up and at thirty six, he'd been named one of the top C







