บททั้งหมดของ The heir's mask : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

The Heir’s MaskKen Thompson woke up with his cock painfully hard and leaking against his stomach. I don’t want this to be real. The dream still clung to him like smoke—Steve’s voice, low and filthy, whispering in his ear. He has a girlfriend. This is against our friendship.“Fuck,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He’d always been straight. Sophia had been proof of that for years—until she vanished, leaving him a mess of guilt and unanswered questions after their breakup.His phone lay on the nightstand. The texts from last night were still there.Steve’s words burned behind his eyes:I’m going to bend you over and ruin that straight boy pussy until you’re crying my name and begging for my cum.Ken’s dick twitched again. He hated it. Hated how his body reacted while his mind screamed in protest. With shaking fingers, he typed the same reply he had sent last night.Ken: Delete those messages and never speak to me like that again. I’m not one of your twisted toys you control

The Heir’s MaskThe days blurred into a haze of obsession for Steve. Every thought revolved around Ken—how far they had come, how cute Ken had been all these years, and how Steve couldn’t open up back then. But now nothing was stopping him. I won’t hide anymore. I’ve been in love with you since high school.Fourteen days until the Hamptons yacht party, and every hour without Ken felt like sandpaper on raw nerves. Steve attended meetings, signed multimillion-dollar deals, and fucked Lila mechanically to keep up appearances—all while his mind replayed Ken’s broken moan from their phone call on repeat.Steve…That single utterance had ruined him.Tonight, Steve was drunk. Half a bottle of Macallan down, tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned to reveal the hard planes of muscle and the trail of dark hair leading down to where his cock strained against his zipper.He took out his phone. Ken hadn’t blocked him yet. That small victory fueled the fire.Steve: You still taste my words on your tongue w

Steve Vanderbilt stood on the upper deck of his private yacht, nursing a brutal hangover and an even worse case of blue balls. His mind was still trapped in that cabin—Ken’s mouth hot and furious against his, the desperate grind of their bodies, the way Ken had moaned before shoving him away like he was poison.I know you like me and want me, but why do you still choose to run and reject me at the same time? Keep making me think of the worst ways to own you, Ken. I want you to surrender yourself as soon as possible. I can’t bear this anymore. I must push harder.You can run, damn it, Ken. But we both know this isn’t over. The next time, I’ll make sure you have no time, no excuse, and nowhere to hide. I promise you, I'm Vanderbilt. I don’t stop until I get what I want.His phone buzzed on the table. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.Eleanor: My office. 2 PM. Do not be late.Steve exhaled sharply. The mask was back in place before he even stepped off the yacht. What does she ha

Steve’s thumb hovered over the send button, the unsent message to Ken still glowing on his screen like a loaded gun.Are you still thinking about Sophia? Or are you finally admitting you looked at me too long today?He deleted it with a low, bitter laugh. No. His words had come too easily the last time. Ken needed to feel the slow, inevitable collapse of every wall he’d built. Steve tossed the phone onto the coffee table and leaned back, eyes closing. The penthouse was too quiet. Too empty.And just like that, the memories dragged him under.Twelve years ago – St. Aldric’s Elite Boarding School, Upstate New YorkRain had been falling for hours, turning the dormitory into a cold, damp tomb. Fifteen-year-old Steve Vanderbilt—already carrying the crushing weight of a last name that could topple empires—slipped past the dormitory staff and down the dimly lit hallway. Tucked under his blazer were two contraband items: a bottle of stolen cough syrup from the infirmary and a thermos of hot t

Ken Thompson slammed the door of his apartment behind him, chest still heaving from the club. The bass from Vortex still thumped faintly in his ears, but it was nothing compared to the chaos in his head.He’d lied to Steve again—just to push him away.The “emergency at the office” excuse had tasted like ash even as he said it. He had seen Steve’s car outside his building earlier—black, sleek, unmistakable. Ken had frozen at his window, heart hammering, and made the call before he could do something stupid like go downstairs. His body had been going hard at the mere sight of him. If he let Steve in tonight—after that kiss in the Hamptons, after the filthy texts, after everything—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep pretending he was straight, or keep control of himself.Ken stripped off his sweat-damp shirt and tossed it aside, heading straight for the fridge. A cold beer. That’s what he needed. Not Steve’s voice in his ear. Not the memory of Steve’s body pressed against his in that cab