I BOUGHT HIM IN HEAT

CHAPTER 10

I finished the last of my wine slowly, watching him.

Kai sat across from me again, the front of his new charcoal shirt stained where I had wiped my hand. His c**k was soft now, but still sensitive — I could tell by the careful way he shifted in the chair. He hadn’t touched his food since he came. The roasted duck and potato purée sat cooling on his plate.

“Eat,” I said.

He looked at me for a long second, then forced himself to pick up the fork. He ate in small, mechanical bites. I watched every one. When he finally set the fork down, I stood.

“Go to your room.”

He rose without a word. The new trousers still sat low on his hips. I could see the faint outline of him even soft. He walked past me toward the hallway. I didn’t stop him. I only listened to the sound of his footsteps fading, then the quiet click of his door closing.

I stayed in the dining room a little longer, finishing the last of the wine. The house was quiet. James had already retired for the night. Only the low hum of the air conditioning and the distant city lights beyond the tall windows remained.

After a while I rose, left the dishes, and walked down the hall.

I stopped outside his door.

I didn’t knock. I simply stood there in the dim light, close enough that my shoulder almost touched the wood, and listened.

At first there was only silence.

Then the soft rustle of fabric. The bed shifting. A long, unsteady breath.

I smiled faintly in the dark.

Inside, Kai was lying on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. The new shirt was unbuttoned and open. The trousers were shoved down to his thighs. His c**k was already hard again — flushed and heavy against his stomach — as if the orgasm at dinner had only taken the edge off for a short while.

He tried not to touch it.

He lasted maybe two minutes.

Then his hand slid down, fingers wrapping around himself with a quiet, frustrated sound. He stroked slowly at first, almost reluctantly, as if he hated that he needed it. His hips lifted in small, involuntary movements. The memory of my hand — the exact pressure, the way I had twisted my wrist, the calm order to look at me — kept replaying behind his closed eyes.

A low moan slipped out before he could stop it.

Soft. Rough. Barely more than a breath.

He bit his lip and tried to stay quieter, but the next stroke dragged another sound from his throat. His free hand gripped the sheet. His breathing grew uneven. The wet sound of his fist moving over his c**k was quiet but clear in the still room.

Outside the door, I heard every bit of it.

I rested my forehead lightly against the wood and listened.

Another moan — a little louder this time, broken in the middle. The bed creaked softly as his hips pushed up into his hand. He was trying to be quiet, but the need was winning. His strokes sped up. The wet sounds grew more shameless. A shaky “f**k…” left him, almost inaudible.

I stayed perfectly still, smiling in the darkness.

Inside, Kai’s head tipped back against the pillow. His mouth fell open. The moans came freer now — low, continuous, helpless. He was close again already, chasing the same release I had controlled earlier, but this time it was only his own desperate hand. His thighs tensed. His stomach flexed. A sharper sound tore out of him as he came for the second time that night, spilling over his fist and onto his open shirt, body shaking through it.

He kept stroking himself through the aftershocks until it became too sensitive, then finally let go. His chest rose and fell hard. The room smelled of s*x and residual heat.

For a long moment there was only the sound of his breathing trying to slow down.

Outside, I remained against the door, listening to the quiet aftermath — the soft rustle as he reached for something to clean himself, the tired shift of his body on the mattress, the long, exhausted exhale that followed.

I didn’t go in.

Not yet.

I simply stayed there a little longer, letting the knowledge settle warmly in my chest:

He had come again thinking of my hand.

And he still couldn’t stop himself.

When I finally stepped back from the door, my own smile was slow and satisfied.

Tomorrow, I decided, I would make him do it while I watched.