Suddenly, a bright light washes over us.
Headlights sweep across the alley as a car turns into the lot, illuminating us completely for one heart-stopping second.
I freeze mid-thrust, still buried deep inside Theo. My blood turns to ice, panic closing my throat. Everything I’ve built could crumble in this single moment of exposure.
The car continues past without slowing, turning toward the far end of the parking lot.
Black SUV. Tinted windows. The kind of car that fits a hundred guys at a fight night.
The brake lights flare red as it backs into a space at the far end. I can’t see the driver. I can’t see the plates. I might be making things up.
I might not be.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my blood rushing in my ears. “We should stop.”
But even as I say it, I’m already moving again, unable to pull away from him. My hips betray me, resuming their rhythm with even greater urgency.
“We should,” Theo agrees, his voice ragged. “But you won’t.”
He’s right. I can’t. I’m terrified of being discovered, of what it would mean for my reputation, my business—but I’m more afraid of losing this, losing him. The fear mixes with arousal, creating something overwhelming.
I’m addicted to him—to his body, his mouth, the way he takes me. To the defiance in his eyes when he challenges me, and the surrender when I break him down.
I grip his hips hard enough to bruise, my control snapping completely. “I’m gonna come inside you,” I grunt, driving into him with savage thrusts. “Fill you up with my cum.”
“Do it, Daddy,” Theo gasps. “Fucking breed me.”
His words push me over the edge. My entire body tenses as I slam in deep one final time, holding myself there as I empty inside him. Pleasure explodes through me, so intense my knees nearly buckle as I pump him full, marking him from within.
For a few seconds, I stay there, panting, still buried in his heat. Reality crashes back slowly—the cold night air on my sweat-dampened skin, the distant sounds of cars, the brick walls of the alley. Of my gym’s warehouse less than fifty yards away.
Jesus Christ. What am I doing?
I pull out abruptly, stumbling backward. My fighters, my clients, my entire reputation—I’ve risked everything for a quick fuck in an alley. Anyone could have walked by. Anyone could have seen Victor Kaine, the ultimate alpha male, balls-deep in another man.
Theo straightens, pulling his pants up with a wince. My cum is leaking down his thighs, staining the inside of his designer suit pants.
“This can’t happen again,” I say, fingers trembling as I tuck myself away, zipping my pants with jerky movements. The post-orgasm clarity is brutal, stripping away the haze of lust to reveal the recklessness of what we’ve done.
Theo’s expression hardens, his eyes cooling from molten need to something distant and sharp.
“Which part?” he asks quietly. “The sex or the being seen?”
The question stops me cold. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. What can I say? That I want him desperately, but can’t bear the thought of others knowing? That I’m terrified of what it means about me?
My silence stretches too long. Theo’s jaw tightens. He straightens his clothes with quick, efficient movements, then opens his car door without looking at me again.
The engine roars to life, headlights sweeping across the alley before he reverses sharply and drives away without me.
32
THEO
Thursday morning at Grind House feels different today. The scent of espresso and freshly baked pastries surrounds me as I arrive fifteen minutes early, claiming our usual corner table—the one with the worn leather chairs and the view of the street. I order two drinks: my oat milk latte and Victor’s black coffee, no room for cream.
Our routine. Our standing date that isn’t really a date because Victor won’t acknowledge what this is.
I watch the barista prepare our drinks, my fingers drumming against the wooden tabletop. Eight months of this—of stolen moments, hungry kisses behind locked doors, and Victor’s constant fear of being discovered. Eight months of being someone’s secret.