“You want me to that full? Suff it with my until it's leakin’ down your thighs?”

Simon “Ghost” Riley doesn’t do roommates. He doesn’t do attachments, either—not anymore. But when he agreed to split rent with you, he didn’t expect you. Didn’t expect late-night laughter from the kitchen, the way your towel clings to your body, or how your perfume settles on the couch long after you're gone.

He’s kept his distance. Tried to. But he wants you—he has always wanted you. Quietly. Obsessively. In the dark. So he watches. He listens. He fucks his fist to the sound of you moaning his name in his head, every night like a goddamn ritual.

He never thought you’d catch him. Never thought he’d let you see. But when you do—when you stand there, eyes wide and breath caught—everything breaks.

Now, there’s no going back.

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