Owned In Secret: Daddy & Son

Chapter 8: Confessions in the Shadows

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed like a distant swarm, casting a pale glow over Ava's cluttered desk. Papers scattered across the surface, mockups for the tourism campaign, sticky notes with deadlines, and her almost empty coffee mug from the morning rush. It was another hectic day in the city, the kind where the tropical heat outside pressed against the air-conditioned windows, making the glass fog slightly at the edges. Ava rubbed her temples, her eyes bleary from staring at the screen. She'd woken late that morning, the alarm failing her after a restless night replaying the seaside evening with Dylan. No time for Mark's place, no quick coffee or stolen moments. "I'll call him later," she'd thought, dashing straight to work in a rumpled blouse and skirt, her hair tied back in a hasty ponytail. Now, at 10:30 AM, guilt gnawed at her for not reaching out yet. Mark had been left hanging yesterday too, waiting at that restaurant while she lost track of time with Dylan. But work demanded focus, the pitch revisions weren't going to edit themselves.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, vibrating against a stack of folders. Mark's name flashed on the screen, and Ava's stomach twisted. She glanced around the open-plan office, colleagues typing away, the occasional laugh from the break room and she answered quietly, leaning back in her chair. "Hey, you. Sorry I didn't call earlier. Overslept."

Mark's voice came through, warm but edged with something unspoken. "No worries. Rough night? You sound tired."

Ava sighed, twirling a pen between her fingers. "Just work stuff. Yesterday was... long. How about you?"

There was a pause, the faint sound of traffic in the background, he must be in his car, heading to a meeting. "I waited at the restaurant for a bit, but figured something came up. Phone issues?"

Guilt surged hotter now. She forgot to charge her phone at the office. "Yeah, battery died. I'm sorry, Mark. I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

He chuckled, but it sounded forced. "Twice in a row, huh? Morning and night. You're making a habit of it." The tease was light, but Ava caught the undercurrent frustration, maybe hurt. She pictured him gripping the steering wheel, his jaw tight, that reliable predictability cracking under the strain.

"I'll make it up to you," she promised, echoing her words from yesterday's call. "Promise."

"Good. How about dinner tonight? Same place, or somewhere new. I can pick you up after work."

Ava hesitated, her eyes drifting to the calendar on her screen. Dylan had mentioned earlier, casually, over text that he needed company to visit his grandma today. The elderly woman lived on the outskirts, and Dylan hated going alone, especially with her health declining. "It's just a quick drop-by," he'd said. "You'd be doing me a favor." Ava had agreed without thinking, excited for another spontaneous outing. But now, with Mark on the line...

"Actually... I can't tonight. Dylan's grandma isn't doing great, and he asked me to go with him. It's important."

Silence stretched on the other end, thick and heavy. When Mark spoke, his voice was cool, controlled. "Dylan?"

Ava winced, sensing the anger bubbling beneath his calm. "It's not like that. He's my friend, Mark. You know that."

"Yeah, I know." He sighed, the sound resigned. "Fine. Another time, then. Have fun."

"Mark"

"Gotta go, meeting starting. Talk later." The line went dead, leaving Ava staring at her phone, a knot of unease in her chest. He was angry, no doubt, he was acting cool to mask it, but she knew him well enough to hear the strain. Guilt twisted again, but so did a flicker of defiance. Dylan made her feel free, alive. Mark was... safe, but sometimes suffocating in his routines. She shook it off, diving back into work, the hours blurring into emails and calls.

By 5:00 PM, the office emptied, colleagues waving goodbye as they headed out. Ava grabbed her bag, her phone now fully charged, and stepped into the evening heat. The city pulsed with life, street lamps flickering on, vendors packing up their stalls, the air thick with the scent of grilled meats and exhaust. Dylan was waiting curbside in his sedan, leaning against the door with that easy smile. He was effortlessly handsome: tall and lean, with tousled dark hair catching the golden light, sharp jawline shadowed with stubble, and those warm brown eyes that always seemed to see right through her. Dressed in a simple button-up shirt rolled to the elbows and jeans, he looked like he belonged in a magazine ad for casual adventure.

"Hey, you," Ava called, her mood lifting instantly as she approached. She hugged him tightly, inhaling his fresh cologne, citrus and wood, grounding and invigorating. Dylan was the one person who made her feel completely open, no walls. With Mark, there was always a layer of expectation; with Dylan, it was pure freedom.

"Ready for grandma duty?" he asked, opening the passenger door for her with a mock bow.

"Always." She slid in, the car cool and welcoming, and they pulled off into traffic, chatting about her day, his latest project. The drive to the outskirts took an hour, the city giving way to quieter suburbs with palm-lined roads and modest homes. Dylan's grandma lived in a cozy bungalow, the yard blooming with hibiscus and the air scented with fresh bread from her kitchen. The visit was sweet, the elderly woman, frail but sharp-witted, hugged Ava like family, sharing stories of Dylan's childhood mischief over tea and biscuits. "He's always needed someone like you," she said with a wink, making Ava blush and Dylan roll his eyes.

As the sun set, they said their goodbyes, promising to return soon. On the drive back, the conversation flowed effortlessly, laughing about old memories, debating favorite movies, the kind of talk that made time vanish. "Hey," Dylan said suddenly, glancing at her as they neared the city. "Stop by my place for a drink? One shot to unwind. It's been a good day."

Ava hesitated only a second Mark's call echoed faintly, but the pull of Dylan's company was stronger. "Sure. One drink."

His apartment was a reflection of him: eclectic and warm, with bookshelves overflowing, abstract art on the walls, and a balcony overlooking the twinkling city lights. Soft jazz played from a speaker as he poured two shots of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the low light. "To good friends," he toasted, clinking her glass.

One shot became two, the alcohol warming her veins, loosening the tight knots the day had left behind. The quiet buzz spread through her chest, making the room feel softer somehow, less guarded. They sat side by side on the couch, their legs brushing accidentally, at first it was awkward, fleeting contact that made her shift slightly. But neither of them moved away the second time it happened. Instead, the space between them seemed to shrink, charged with something unspoken.

Conversation drifted from light jokes to deeper waters. Work frustrations spilled out first, annoying bosses, endless deadlines but soon it shifted to the things people rarely said out loud. Dreams they had buried. Regrets they carried. The kind of confessions that only surfaced in the quiet hours with someone you trusted.

Ava noticed the way Dylan looked at her then. His eyes lingered longer than usual, softer, almost searching. The playful ease he usually carried had melted into something more vulnerable.

"Ava…" he said quietly, her name sounding different on his lips, gentler, heavier with meaning. "There's something I've wanted to say for a long time."

Her heart skipped, a sudden nervous flutter that caught her off guard. She swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly around her glass.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dylan set his drink down on the table with slow care, as if steadying himself. When he turned back to her, he leaned closer, and the air between them seemed to hum with tension. Ava could feel the warmth of him now the faint scent of his cologne, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Since college," he began, his voice low and raw, "I've been in love with you."

The words hung between them, fragile and powerful all at once.

"Secretly. Stupidly," he added with a small, nervous laugh that didn’t quite hide the emotion in his eyes. "You're the one person who makes everything feel… right. Like the world finally makes sense when you're around. I never said anything because of Mark. I told myself it was the right thing to do. But pretending I don’t feel this anymore… I can’t do it."

Ava felt the confession crash over her like a wave.

Surprise first, sharp and dizzying. Then warmth spread through her chest, a slow bloom of something she'd buried for years without realizing it. Memories flashed through her mind: late-night study sessions, the way he always showed up when she needed him, the quiet intensity behind his smiles.

Had it always been there?

Her pulse quickened, her breath catching as she looked at him, really looked at him. The closeness was intoxicating now. His knee pressed lightly against hers, his presence wrapping around her like gravity pulling her closer.

"Dylan…" she murmured, his name trembling on her lips.

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the years of unspoken tension, or the way his eyes searched hers like she was the answer to something he'd been chasing forever.

Maybe it was all of it.

Almost without thinking, her hand lifted, resting gently against his chest. She felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm mirroring her own.

And then their lips met. At first, the kiss was hesitant, soft, like both of them were afraid the moment might shatter if they moved too quickly. But the second their mouths touched, something deeper sparked, years of hidden longing catching fire all at once.

The make-out was intense, hands exploring as years of pent-up longing poured out. Dylan's lips were soft yet insistent, his tongue teasing hers as he pulled her onto his lap. Ava straddled him, her dress riding up, her fingers tangling in his hair. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding up her thighs, thumbs brushing the edge of her panties. The kiss deepened, teeth nipping, breaths mingling in ragged gasps. Slow burn turned to fire her body responding to every touch, desire building like a wave.

He stood, carrying her to the bedroom, laying her on the soft sheets. The room was dim, lit by a bedside lamp, the city lights filtering through blinds. Dylan peeled off her dress slowly, his eyes devouring her in lace lingerie. "You're beautiful," he whispered, kissing down her neck, collarbone, to her breasts. He unclasped her bra, his mouth latching onto a n****e, sucking gently then harder, his hand kneading the other. Ava arched, moans escaping as pleasure rippled through her.

She tugged at his shirt, buttons flying as she stripped him, her hands exploring his lean chest, tracing the lines of muscle. They shifted, her on top now, grinding against his hardness through fabric, the friction teasing them both. Dylan's hands gripped her ass, guiding her movements, his head falling back with a groan. "Ava... I need you."

Clothes shed fully, they explored with mouths and hands. He kissed down her body, parting her thighs, his tongue finding her core. Slow licks at first, building to fervent circles on her c**t, fingers curling inside her. Ava's hands fisted the sheets, emotions swirling, desire, affection, a deep connection she'd craved. "Dylan... yes..." Her orgasm built slowly, waves crashing as she came, trembling under him.

He rose, kissing her tasting herself on his lips. He entered her slowly, deep and deliberate, eyes locked, emotions raw in every thrust. "I've wanted this forever," he murmured, his pace steady, building intimacy. They rolled, her on top, riding him with rolling hips, his hands on her breasts, pinching n*****s. Pleasure elongated, each movement drawing out the burn.

He gently guided her to her side, pressing close behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist as he entered from behind. The position felt intimate, his breath warm on her neck, his hand sliding between her legs to rub her c**t in slow circles. Whispers of love mingled with moans, confessions pouring out in the quiet rhythm of their bodies.

Finally, he eased her forward until she was kneeling on the bed, gripping the headboard tightly for balance. Dylan positioned himself behind her, his hands steady on her hips as he spread her legs slightly wider, entering her from behind.

Dylan’s thrusts grew erratic, his pupils blown wide with raw, overwhelming pleasure as he lost himself in the tight heat of her body. Every movement was desperate now, deep and relentless, the rhythm breaking into something primal. His breath came in ragged pants against her neck, his grip on her hips tightening as if anchoring himself to the edge of control.

“I’m cumming, Ava,” he groaned, voice wrecked and trembling, the words spilling out like a confession. His pace tripled, hard, fast, almost punishing, each snap of his hips driving them both higher.

Ava’s nails dug into his shoulders, her body arching off the mattress as pleasure coiled unbearably tight inside her. “Not inside, Dylan,” she gasped, voice cracking with urgency even as her legs locked around him. “Not inside, please”

The warning seemed to hit him like a jolt. With a strangled sound, Dylan tore himself free at the very last second, hand wrapping around his c**k as he spilled across her stomach in hot, pulsing ropes. A guttural moan ripped from his throat, raw and broken, his whole body shuddering as release tore through him.

He collapsed forward, collapsing flat onto the bed beside her, chest heaving, head tilted back toward the ceiling. Sweat glistened on his skin, For a long moment, the only sounds were their harsh breathing and the faint hum of the city beyond the window