Epilogue

Naked, prepped, and lubed, Caleb knelt motionless by the bed, waiting for his Dom to arrive. His Master. His boyfriend. His whole world.

They’d grown so close after Caleb’s ordeal, as he referred to it. Roman hadn’t left his side, not even when the nightmares had started. He’d accompanied Caleb to the twice-a-week sessions with the trauma therapist, never once complaining. And when Caleb had thought he was ready to do a scene again but had safeworded after a few minutes, Roman had held him as Caleb had broken down. He’d been endlessly patient with him, never pushing him beyond what he could handle.

Now that the nightmares had subsided, he was able to do scenes again, and he was the happiest he’d ever been in his life with Roman by his side. He loved nothing more than to serve his Master, and he couldn’t wait to see what Roman had in store for him this time. They both loved impact play, but in his training, Roman had discovered other kinks as well, and Caleb was usually his willing partner in trying out anything new.

Footsteps tapped in the hallway, and Caleb breathed out, then stilled completely. The door opened and clicked shut, the heavy thud echoing in what had once been the room Roman stayed in and was now their joint bedroom.

Roman surveyed him, taking in every inch of Caleb’s taut body as if caressing the lines of muscle and skin. “So pretty,” he said hoarsely. “So goddamn beautiful.”

Caleb didn’t respond, content to stay on his knees, awaiting Roman’s command. His mind quieted. Nothing else existed but this moment, this man, this burning need to obey. This was where he belonged—on his knees, beneath Roman’s command, ready to submit to whatever desire Roman had.

“Tell me, precious, what do you want to do for me?”

The question was a test, a challenge wrapped in velvet tones. It set Caleb’s nerves alight, and a thrill laced through the obedience etched into his bones. He tilted his head up, baring his throat in submission, his voice steady despite the storm inside him.

“Anything you command, Sir. I exist to please you.” His words were a vow, spoken with the fervor of absolute devotion.

“Anything?”

“Anything. Everything.” All Caleb needed was Roman’s command, and he would obey, his pleasure entwined with his submission.

“Get on the bed.”

Without hesitation, Caleb rose from his knees and climbed onto the bed, its sheets cool beneath his heated skin.

“Touch yourself for my pleasure,” Roman commanded, his voice a low growl that reverberated through Caleb’s core. “But you’re not to come. Not yet.”

Caleb sprawled back on the mattress, trailing his fingers down his chest, across the taut planes of his abdomen, to the straining heat between his thighs. He wrapped his hand around himself, a gasp escaping his lips as he stroked in a slow, measured rhythm. Caleb moved his hand with a precision that belied his hunger, the slide of flesh against flesh creating a slick melody.

Roman slowly undressed as he watched Caleb. The man still preferred his suits, and Caleb loved him for it. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and took it off, then sent his suit pants to the floor. He’d lost some weight, and his upper body was more defined than it had been, but it didn’t matter to Caleb. He loved him no matter what, and his attraction had little to do with Roman’s physical appearance.

Once he was fully naked, he sank onto the bed next to Caleb. The air was thick with tension, desire crackling between them like static. Caleb looked at Roman in a silent plea for approval, for further instruction. Each movement of his hand was deliberate, a dance of pleasure and restraint. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his features as Roman followed Caleb’s self-induced unraveling.

“Good boy.”

It was all Caleb needed to hear. The praise fueled him, stoked the fire in his belly. He kept his pace steady, his breathing ragged as the heat coiled tighter within him, threatening to consume him whole. Yet he dared not cross the line Roman had drawn. The brink of ecstasy was his to balance upon but never to tip over. It was a game of trust and control, and Caleb played it willingly, knowing his reward lay in the hands of the man who commanded his very soul.

“Look at you, taking your pleasure from your hand. So desperate to come, yet holding back for me.”

Caleb’s breath hitched. The words wrapped around him like a touch, one that teased and pulled at his senses. His movements became more fervent, driven by the need to showcase himself, to revel in the vulnerability that was so cherished by the man before him.

“Fuck, yes…just like that.” Roman’s approval was both command and benediction, urging Caleb closer to the edge he wasn’t allowed to tumble over. “You’re beautiful like this—unraveled, needy.”

Heat flushed Caleb’s skin. He was lost in the moment, in the weight of Roman’s stare, in the dirtiness of the words that painted him as nothing less than a work of art—a masterpiece of submission.

“Touch your hole,” Roman said, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. “Play with it. Show me how much you want my cock, how desperate you are.”

Obediently, Caleb shifted, trailing his fingers lower. He circled the rim, sensitive from when Roman had fucked him earlier that day, teasingly at first, but then pressed in, and a low moan spilled from his lips at the intrusion. The sensation was slick, dirty, and utterly intoxicating.

“More.”

Roman’s command was simple, but it echoed with the weight of unspoken trust between them. Caleb complied without thought, adding another finger, stretching himself, losing himself to the dual sensations and the man who orchestrated them with nothing more than words and an authoritative presence.

“God, yes.” A predatory glint gleamed in Roman’s eyes. “That’s it, good boy. Fuck yourself with your fingers. Pretend it’s my cock.”

Caleb moved his finger in tandem with the strokes of his other hand, the combination driving him to dizzying heights of arousal. Each movement was an affirmation, a silent vow to please and be pleased in return.

“Beautiful,” Roman whispered, and Caleb knew it was true because Roman made him feel it, like he saw himself through Roman’s eyes.

His breathing was labored as his body became a tightrope of tension and need. Sweat slicked his skin, the saltiness mingling with the fading scent of Roman’s cologne. A moan clawed up from his chest. He delved his fingers deeper, driven by the relentless urge to obey, to show his devotion in the rawest form.

“Please.” Pleasure edged him toward oblivion. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—cross that line. Not without Roman’s say-so. His muscles coiled, teetering on the precipice of release, yet he held back, clinging to Roman’s command like a lifeline.

Roman drank in Caleb’s struggle, every quiver and whimper stoking the fire in his gaze. Between them ran the tangible electricity of their connection, a silent dance of dominance and submission.

“Enough.” Roman’s voice sliced through the fog of Caleb’s arousal, sharp and unyielding. “Shower. Now.”

Caleb stilled his hand, his body protesting the abrupt halt. Chest heaving, he rose from the bed. But disobedience wasn’t an option. Caleb stumbled toward the bathroom on limbs trembling with unspent desire, the cold air hitting his fevered skin like a shockwave.

Roman trailed him, each step a measured assertion of his control. He turned on the water and, when it had reached the right temperature, gestured for Caleb to step under the spray. Droplets traced paths over Roman’s body, mapping out the terrain Caleb yearned to explore again and again.

“Take care of me, precious.”

Caleb’s hand trembled as he picked up the bottle of shampoo. His fingers, usually so sure and steady on a keyboard, now fluttered like nervous birds. Roman stood before him, all commanding presence and raw masculinity, and Caleb shivered with the power of it all.

Caleb poured shampoo into his palm, the scent sharp and clean, and stepped behind Roman. He worked it into a lather, then touched Roman’s scalp. He massaged gently, his touch reverent, worshipful. Each circular motion was a silent promise, a pledge of servitude and desire.

Roman’s body came next, and the forest-scented shower gel was Caleb’s favorite. He would forever associate that smell with the love of his life. He traced the contours of Roman’s body with his hands, mapping the expanse of his chest, the curve of his waist. Water sluiced over Roman’s body, mingling with the soap as it cascaded in rivulets. Caleb washed Roman with a focus that bordered on obsession, his movements deliberate and slow. This act of washing wasn’t merely about cleanliness. It was an intimate dance of power and vulnerability.

Roman’s breathing grew heavy, syncing with the rhythm of Caleb’s strokes. With each sweep of his hand across Roman’s broad back, Caleb felt the responsibility of his submission, the trust it required, the power it gave him. The satisfaction of serving Roman filled him, as potent and heady as the steam surrounding them.

Caleb knelt to wash Roman’s legs. And once they were done, he finally got to do his favorite part, cleaning Roman’s impressive cock and his heavy balls. He took great care, handling them like one would fragile glassware.

When he was done, he rose, water streaming from his body as he stood at attention, every muscle taut with readiness. He waited silently for Roman’s next command.

Roman ran a finger down Caleb’s wet cheek, a simple touch that seared straight through him. “You’re never prettier than when you’re on your knees for me. Will this need for you ever go away? Will I ever look at you and not want you?”

“I hope not, Sir.”

Roman wasn’t the kind of Dom who punished Caleb for speaking. In fact, he’d made it clear he wanted Caleb’s responses. Theirs was a dance, not a one-way marionette act.

“Turn around.”

Caleb pivoted on his heel. His flesh prickled with anticipation, every nerve ending firing in sync with the pulse of desire throbbing through him. He bent forward, palms flat against the cool tiles, ass presented for Roman’s taking.

Roman loomed as a force behind him, both protective and commanding. A hand grazed Caleb’s hip, a silent acknowledgment that made his breath hitch. Without warning, Roman was inside him, claiming him with a firm thrust that tore a raw groan from Caleb’s throat.

The pace was relentless, each drive deeper than the last, Roman’s grip on Caleb’s hips bruising. Power and possession were etched into every movement as Roman used his big cock as an instrument of pleasure and punishment.

“Mine,” Roman grunted, the word a growl of ownership that spiraled pleasure tighter within Caleb’s core.

“Yours, Sir,” Caleb choked out between ragged breaths.

Roman’s thrusts quickened, and Caleb met each one with a push back of his hips, a silent plea for more, harder, everything. The slap of skin on skin created a carnal symphony that crescendoed around them. Sensation coiled, an insistent pressure begging for release. Caleb rose on his tippy-toes, his teeth clenched as he fought off his release with all he had.

Finally, the command he’d been hoping for. “Come for me, precious.”

The order shattered Caleb’s restraint. Pleasure detonated, wave after shattering wave, as he came, crying out Roman’s name, his body a vessel for the ecstasy that Roman wrung from him. Seconds, or maybe lifetimes later, he felt Roman’s release, a hot rush deep inside him that marked him in the most intimate of ways.

“Will it always be like this?” Roman asked as they were cuddling in bed, their bodies cooled off.

“You’re in a reflective mood today.”

“Mmm.” Roman kissed the top of his head. “I guess I am.”

“What brought that on?”

Roman was quiet for a long time, but Caleb waited patiently. He’d learned that Roman rarely spoke without thinking and he liked taking the time to carefully formulate his words.

Roman pressed his index finger under Caleb’s chin and pushed it up so their eyes met. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, Sir. Happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Happier than I thought possible.”

“Even living with the team rather than having a place of our own?”

“For now, yes. Maybe that will change, but I love being here with you.”

What was going on? Why all these questions? “Do you not like living here?” he asked.

“I’m content to be wherever you are, and I mean that. And I do love working for Wander.”

It had taken Roman a little time to adjust, but now he’d become a full-fledged team member, able to offer legal advice to clients, act on their behalf, or defend them in court. He’d passed the bar in New York with flying colors, and he’d left Boston in the rearview, seemingly with no regrets.

Whitman had finally been indicted, and the trial against him was scheduled to start in a few weeks. Isabella Coldrick and Joey DiMartino had been arrested for their parts and were awaiting trial as well. Caleb had eventually managed to get into all the files on her iCloud, and the evidence there had been a true goldmine. It had been inadmissible, of course, but the FBI had promptly subpoenaed all of Isabella’s digital storage and had gained access themselves.

“Caleb,” Roman said, and Caleb frowned. He wasn’t used to Roman calling him by his name anymore. “I want to marry you.”

Caleb widened his eyes.

“Shit, that didn’t come out right. I wanted to ask you… Fuck.” Roman took a deep breath. “I love you so much, Caleb Lingle. Will you marry me and spend the rest of your life with me?”

“I do.” Caleb’s face broke open in a wide grin. “Just practicing for the real thing.”

“Thank god. I didn’t know how you would react, since everyone here has such unconventional relationships. I wasn’t sure if marriage was something you wanted.”

“It’s something you want, something that means a lot to you, and that’s all the reason I need.”

“I’ll get you a ring. Something practical but beautiful…like you.”

“Aw…” Caleb’s eyes unexpectedly grew moist. “I love you, and I love our life.”

“So do I.” Roman kissed the tip of his nose. “But I will love it even more when you have my last name.”

“Who says I’m taking your name and not the other way around?”

“Oh.” Roman’s cheeks grew red. “I didn’t even… Of course that’s an option too.”

He shouldn’t tease him. In some ways, Roman was still letting go of his more traditional views. “I will proudly become a Dwyer, Sir.”

“Really?”

“Caleb Dwyer. Sounds perfect to me.”

Roman’s expression lost its tension. “You’re perfect to me. Absolutely perfect, and I couldn’t possibly love you more.”

Caleb snuggled close again. “Yes, Sir.”