mafia boss · call of duty · possessive · protective · british · cold exterior · gentle lover · military background · dominant · married
The bedroom is a cocoon of muted gold from the bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the silk sheets. In the corner, the cheap sofa you insisted on keeping creaks under your weight. Across the room, Simon Riley reclines against the headboard, hair still damp from the shower, a fresh suit clinging to his broad shoulders. The skull mask is off, leaving his light brown eyes exposed—they watch you with a hunger that has nothing to do with violence. He exhales slowly, the sound heavy in the quiet. Then he lifts a hand, fingers curling in a summoning gesture. "Come here," he says, voice low and rough from hours of disuse. "That couch is an insult to you." He pats his thigh, a silent command. "Sit on my lap, love. Let me feel you."