Watching Me Break
Asha
His voice hung in the air like smoke—soft, thick, and curling around me.
"Lie down, Asha. I want to watch."
I gulped hard, my body already thrumming with expectation. The room felt incredibly quiet, save for the rush of my pulse in my ears. I didn't move immediately away. I just stared at him.
Kade stood across the room in his black shirt, sleeves drawn up to his elbows. His gaze burned through the low lighting like he could see everything—the way my thighs squeezed together, the little trembling in my fingers, the fire growing beneath my skin.
I laid back on his bed, the same one I'd slept in the previous night like it was some kind of mistake. But this didn't feel like a mistake. Not anymore.
I waited.
And he moved slowly.
He didn't walk to me. Instead, he grabbed for the top buttons of his shirt and started undoing them one by one, not removing his eyes from me.
I'd never seen someone take off a shirt and make it look like a sin.
His motions were slow. Measured. Like he knew exactly what it was doing to me.
And God, I let it.
I couldn't stop watching. The tiny flex of his muscles. The lazy assurance in his touch. Without hesitation, he sank his fingers into the fabric as if he had done it a thousand times before.
I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I felt a pain in my chest causing me to exhale slowly.
"Good," he remarked gently. "Just like that. Don't look away."
He dropped his shirt on the chair and stood there, bare-chested, every inch of him sculpted in sharp shadows and golden skin.
My gaze fell on his throbbed cock, and I felt something deep inside me clench. Coil. Break apart.
With a voice like gravel and silk, he whispered, "I can feel you from here. The way you're already unraveling."
I mumbled, "I'm not," but it was a lie.
He tilted his lips.
"You are."
He hasn't come any closer to me yet. Rather, he sat with his elbows resting on his thighs and his legs slightly spread out in the chair beside the foot of the bed.
"Now show me."
My heart jumped.
"I—what?"
"You heard me." His voice dropped. "You wanted to be here. In my bed. In my shirt. You made that choice. I want to see how far you'll let yourself go."
My skin felt too hot. My thoughts scattered. Everything inside me screamed yes, even while a thousand warnings whispered no.
But I didn't get up. I didn't run. I just pulled the bedsheets tighter around me, my fingers brushing on it like maybe they'd protect me from unraveling completely.
"Take it off," he said.
My breath caught. "Kade…"
"You want me to touch you, Asha?" he asked, his tone deadly calm. "Then let me see you first."
I swallowed. My fingers hovered over the sheet. I hesitated—not because I didn't want it. But because I did.
I had never been looked at like this before. Not like I was something worth watching.
And he saw hunger in his eyes, not just lust. Possession.
My breathing became shallow. One part of the fabric gradually came off, followed by the other. I took my time. I couldn't rush.
Even though he hadn't moved an inch, my body felt as though it was being scrutinized under a microscope. I could feel my pussy tingling and tenting under me.
His eyes, however, caressed each inch of my naked body as if he were learning it by heart. As if he will always remember my look under his shirt.
"You're shaking," he said softly.
"I know."
"You're afraid."
"No." I looked him in the eye. "I'm not."
"Good."
When the bedsheet eventually fell from my grasp and gathered about my waist, he reclined back in his chair like a monarch appreciating his prize. His voice was like velvet laced with heat.
He remarked, "You have no idea what you are doing to me. You look so sexy, I want to touch you all over."
That confession made my body react as if he had touched me.
I sat there utterly exposed and naked, and somehow I was not embarrassed. I was alive.
"I shouldn't be here." I muttered.
"But, you are."
He reached out—just a slight gesture, his fingertips brushing the air—but he didn't touch me
"You've been hiding too long," he said, almost to himself. "Being invisible. Pretending to disappear into the walls while cleaning up after people who don't even see you."
My lips parted.
"You think I haven't noticed you?" he asked. "Every time you come in here, quiet, eyes down. Wearing that uniform like armor. You were never invisible to me, Asha."
My chest ached.
Something inside me broke.
All the years of shrinking myself, of being just another service girl, melted under his words.
"Kade…" I breathed.
His jaw clenched like he was holding something back.
Then slowly, so slowly, he stood.
Walked toward me.
And stopped at the edge of the bed.
He didn't touch me.
Didn't reach out.
But the air between us felt charged. Electrified.
"I want to ruin you," he said, his voice low, hoarse. "Not just your body. I want to ruin the idea that you were ever meant to be anyone's background."
I was trembling again.
But it wasn't fear. It was something deeper. Wilder.
"I don't want to be in the background anymore," I whispered.
"Then be mine."
His lips hovered at my shoulder as he leaned in just enough to feel his breath on my skin.
Like a cable on the verge of breaking, the tension between us increased.
A
nd then, he pressed his mouth to my skin. Soft. Hot. Barely there.
His breath ghosted over the kiss.
"Next time," he murmured, "I touch."