MasukChristopher Hall has a wife, an empire, and a body that has not felt anything real in years. Then Robin walks in and suddenly the powerful CEO who dominates every boardroom cannot stop imagining bending him over his desk and fucking him raw. Stolen afternoons turn into locked doors where Christopher drops to his knees and sucks Robin’s thick cock like a starving man, swallowing every drop while his own dick leaks against his expensive suit pants. The kind of desperate, consuming hunger that has him spreading Robin open and pounding deep into that tight ass until they are both shaking and covered in sweat and cum. Robin makes him feel filthy and alive in ways his carefully constructed life never could. But Christopher has been lying from the start. And when Robin finds out, he walks away. Now Christopher is standing at the only crossroads that has ever mattered. The empire his father built him, the board’s approval, the family name on every door. Or the one man who ever made him feel like himself. He was never supposed to want this badly. But some men are worth burning everything down for.
Lihat lebih banyakChristopher's POV Five years later, my life looks nothing like it once did. The house is louder. Messier. There are shoes by the front door that are not mine or Robin's, small ones, left at angles that suggest they were removed in a hurry by people with more interesting things to do than align their footwear. There is a drawing on the refrigerator held up by three magnets, a family of four rendered in crayon with proportions that are medically implausible and entirely accurate in every way that matters. There are toys in the hallway and a small handprint on the wall beside the kitchen door that we noticed three weeks ago and have not been able to bring ourselves to paint over. I used to live in a penthouse that looked like it had been designed to be photographed. Every surface considered, every room performing a particular version of a life. I remember moving through it and feeling the particular loneliness of a person in a space that had been built for an image rather than an exis
Robin's POVThe destination was a small island off the southern coast, the kind of place that existed at a remove from the pace of everything we had left behind, warm and unhurried and entirely indifferent to anything happening on the mainland.Christopher had done well.The villa sat on a low cliff above the water, private and simply furnished, with a terrace that caught the evening light and a view of the sea that did what good views did, made everything feel proportionate. No neighbours visible. No obligations. Just the two of us and the sound of the water and however many days we had decided to give ourselves.We spent the first two days doing almost nothing of consequence, which was exactly right.We walked the coastal path in the mornings, the kind of walking that had no destination and no pace requirement, stopping when something was worth stopping for, a particular view or a village with a bakery that smelled the way bakeries in places like this always smelled, and Christopher
Christopher's POV We stayed at the venue until the last guests had left, which was later than we had planned and exactly the right amount of time. The evening had moved the way good evenings moved when nobody was watching the clock, the dinner long and unhurried, the conversation between tables drifting and settling and drifting again, and at some point the formal structure of it had dissolved entirely and it had simply become a gathering of people who were glad to be in the same room together. Grandma Rose had stayed until nearly eleven, which I knew because she was the kind of person who left precisely when she intended to and not a moment before or after, and the embrace she had given me at the door had said everything her speech had left unsaid. My mother had left earlier, quietly, with a brief touch of my arm and an expression that I understood and did not try to make into more than it was. It was a beginning. That was enough. *** We had one night back in the apartment befor
Robin's POVThe ceremony was short and entirely right.Christopher and I had written our own words, which I had known intellectually for weeks and had underestimated emotionally until I was standing in front of the registrar listening to him say them, and I had not made it through without my voice doing something I had not fully authorised it to do. Christopher had held my hands through all of it, steady and certain, and when the registrar pronounced us married he had looked at me with the expression I had come to think of as purely his, the one that was not performed for any audience, and I had looked back and felt the full weight of the distance between where we had started and where we were standing.The room had been quiet in the way rooms were quiet when something real had just happened in them.Then Mitchell had begun to clap first, because of course she had, and the room had followed, and the warmth of it was the particular warmth of people who were genuinely glad rather than






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