Sinful Submission

9 ~ Temptation on Steam.

When desires and confessions blurs… it will lead to nothing but destruction.

ALESSIA

The water was warm. Too warm.

It cascaded down my skin in slow, sensual strikes, but it wasn’t the temperature making me hot, it was the way Ryder stood behind me.

Silent. Watching. Waiting.

I didn't look at him yet.

I let the water wash between my breasts, trail over my thighs, and soak my hair as I stood tall, my spine straight, claiming the shower as mine.

His breath tickled the back of my neck. Still, I didn’t give him my gaze.

“You can join,” I said, coolly. “Unless you plan to keep staring like a pretty statue.”

I felt him step forward, close enough that the water bounced off my back onto his chest. Close enough that the heat from his skin made mine itch with want.

But I wasn’t prepared for how softly he entered the moment.

No grab. No grope. Just— his fingers brushing my arm, trailing up my shoulder—like I was fragile silk, not the goddess who he just f****d into submission.

I turned around. And there he was.

He was dripping wet. His broad shoulders slick with water. That c**k—still slightly hard from before—standing half stretched without shame. His eyes met mine, stormy, and reverent.

“You’re still trembling,” he murmured, brushing a strand of soaked hair from my cheek.

“And you’re still hard,” I replied, arching a brow. “Poor thing.”

He smirked, but it was soft.

Then his hand found my waist. His fingers spread, warm and confident, resting on my hip like he was learning my shape.

“I want to know what every inch of you feels like,” he whispered.

And fuck... that got to me.

Not because of the words.

Because of the way he said it. He was not demanding. He was not even pleading.

He was just being truthful like I was something sacred he needed to study with his hands.

I let him touch me.

His hands traveled up slowly—over the dip of my waist, the underside of my breast, the slope of my ribcage. Every inch he touched, he worshipped with fingertips. No rush. No greed.

“Your skin feels like something no one should deserve,” he said.

I bit back a sound. Something between a scoff and a moan.

“Say things like that again, Ryder, and I might forgive your earlier disobedience.”

He smiled.

And then he did something dangerous.

He cupped the back of my neck and leaned in, his forehead brushing mine, his lips just close enough to taste my breath.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered. “Not to claim. Not to win. Just because I need to.”

My control slipped. Just a little.

I didn’t answer.

I kissed him.

God help me, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his—soft at first. Testing. Tasting.

But then he sighed into my mouth, and something hit my chest hard.

His hands gripped my waist and I let him. Mine tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, pulling him deeper. We kissed like we were born inside that steam. Like the water and heat and pulse between us had always been leading to this.

No tongue. No fight. Just lips and heat and breathing each other in.

I could feel the tremor in his fingers when he ran his hands down my back.

He traced my spine like it was poetry. My thighs. The swell of my ass. Slow and careful.

When I grazed my nails over his chest, he shuddered. When I kissed the corner of his mouth, he groaned.

We didn’t f**k.

We didn’t even speak.

We just... touched. Basically, we explored each other's parts.

My hands memorized the ridges of his abdomen, the flutter in his throat, the curve of his biceps. He stared at me like he wanted to remember every freckle, every scar, every part of me no one else had ever dared to adore.

I leaned against the shower wall, breathing heavily. He didn’t follow with hunger this time.

He just pressed his palm to my belly and said, “You make everything feel different.”

My pulse fluttered.

I didn’t need a confession. I didn’t need a promise.

But that?

That made my stomach tighten harder than any thrust could.

I leaned in again—kissed him slow, wet, and deep.

He moaned into my mouth.

And for the first time, I wondered… Was I still in control? Or had I just stepped into his trap?

Either way, I didn’t want to leave it.

I pulled away from him and left the shower to pick up my towel.

Silently, we finished drying out bodies and he grabbed my shoulders and walked me to the bed respectfully.

But I didn't sit long enough.

I got on my feet quickly and made my way toward my room. He followed, of course.

I glanced over my shoulder, my voice cold and hollow. “You can leave now. You’ve completed what I needed you for.”

“What do you need me for?” He asked, his breath brushing the back of my neck like a curse.

“You’re too close,” I snapped. “And you don’t get to know everything about me.”

I pushed the door open, the air inside colder than I remembered. Or maybe it was me. Ryder’s footsteps followed, slow and stubborn.

“Wow. Are you treating me like a s*x object now?” He asked.

I settled into the couch, my legs crossed, my back straight, and my eyes meeting his like a slap. I didn’t answer. I didn’t flinch.

Bryce would be here soon. He would take the trash out.

But my body… My body was splitting open from the inside. My breath caught in my throat. I clenched my fists hard.

Still, my face didn’t break.

Ryder kept talking, his voice digging into me like a needle, pulling at something I didn’t want to feel.

Then Bryce walked in.

“Show him out,” I said, my voice steady but dying inside.

Ryder fought. Of course he did. But eventually, Bryce forced him out and slammed the door shut.

The second it clicked, I dropped to my knees.

A strangled gasp tore from my lungs. My vision blurred. Tears burned hot behind my eyes.

“No. This is all wrong.”

He shouldn’t have been inside me. He shouldn’t have made me feel that way.

Ryder was supposed to suffer. To bleed. To pay for sins he didn’t commit but was born for. I shouldn’t have let him touch me. I shouldn’t have let him c*m inside me.

But I did.

And worse… the moment I saw his face in the bathroom, my damn heart melted.

But I won’t give in.

I can’t.

The past already clawed me once. It won’t happen again. Now, there’s only revenge. That’s the only thing keeping me sane.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I rose.

I turned to the wall across the room—the one that hides the truth no one knows.

The truth that could destroy me.

I barely made two steps before the door burst open.

Bryce stormed in, his breath ragged, his chest rising and falling like he had run through fire.

What the f**k just happened?