Page 105 of Shadow Waltz
But my body had other ideas. A flush crept up my neck, and I felt myself starting to stiffen, heat rising in my groin. I shifted,trying to disguise it, but the tape pressed in and the touch became impossible to ignore.
Antoni’s eyes flicked down, catching the movement. His mouth curved in the faintest, knowing smile. “Relax, Ash,” he said quietly. “It’s normal. Happens to the best of us.”
Easy for him to say. Antoni continued, utterly unfazed, moving to the inseam. He slid the tape up the inside of my thigh, his knuckles grazing my growing hardness, and the contact made my cock twitch in my briefs. I tried to keep my expression blank, but the guard by the wall watched everything with the same calm, unreadable attention.
Antoni leaned in, voice pitched low so only I could hear. “Trust me, you’re not the first man to have this reaction. If you didn’t, I’d be worried.”
Antoni’s words lingered in the air, comforting and provocative all at once. He shifted, moving to measure the other thigh, his touch firmer now, lingering just long enough that I couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing it on purpose. The brush of his knuckles made my cock throb, a bead of slick dampening the front of my briefs.
He straightened, tape still in hand, and looked me over with a new kind of intensity. “Actually, for this next part, I’ll need you to strip fully. No distractions, no barriers.” His gaze flicked pointedly to the waistband of my briefs.
I hesitated, glancing toward the guard. He hadn’t moved from his position by the wall, arms folded across his massive chest, expression unreadable but intent. Our eyes met, and I saw nothing but calm focus—a soldier doing his job, but somehow that only made it worse. He watched, and I knew he wouldn’t look away.
My hands went to my waistband. I took a breath, then slid my briefs down, slow enough to show I wasn’t afraid, but not so slow that it looked like I was enjoying the humiliation. My cocksprang free, already half-hard and slick at the tip. The collar Luka had chosen for me pressed warm and solid at my throat—a reminder of who I belonged to, and why I was here.
Antoni stepped closer, measuring tape unspooling between his hands. This time, his professionalism was laced with something bolder—his movements less careful, his gaze unapologetically direct.
He crouched to eye level with my hips, hands cool and sure as he measured the girth of my thighs again, knuckles brushing the insides deliberately, never flinching away from where I was fully exposed. He let the tape slide higher, grazing the base of my cock and lingering there as if checking the fit, his fingers wrapping lightly around me under the pretense of accuracy. I couldn’t help it; I hardened fully under his touch, precum slicking his fingers.
Antoni didn’t look away. Instead, he offered a small, knowing smile, his thumb skimming the sensitive skin beneath my shaft. “I said no barriers, Ash. You’re doing well.” His voice was low, just for me, tinged with something that sent a thrill up my spine.
He measured the length of my legs, hands brushing my calves, then shifted back to my hips, repeating the process on the other side—never rushing, always lingering just long enough to make my heart race. Every brush of his skin against mine felt intentional, calculated to draw out every last ounce of vulnerability.
Antoni’s voice cut through the tension, softer now, but full of command. “Bend over for me, Ash. I need to check the fit from behind.” His words were clinical, but there was no mistaking the hunger in his tone.
I hesitated for half a second, glancing back just enough to catch the guard’s gaze. He hadn’t moved, but something in his stance had shifted—there was a new tension there, and the front of his trousers betrayed a thickening outline, impossible to ignore.
I took a breath and bent forward, palms flat on the edge of a nearby chaise. My heart hammered as I felt both sets of eyes on me.
Antoni stepped behind, his hands smoothing over the curves of my ass, fingers lingering, spreading me just enough to get a true measure of my form. I felt the brush of his knuckles against sensitive skin, the slide of the tape, and the not-so-subtle way his hands trembled, betraying his own excitement.
Some part of me wanted to hide, but another part—the part Luka had nurtured, the part that craved being seen—rose to the challenge. I shifted my weight, arched my back a little more, letting the show become intentional. I wanted them both to look, to want, to remember this moment.
Behind me, Antoni exhaled slowly, hands firm but now openly appreciative, almost possessive in the way he cupped and measured.
He paused, then looked over my shoulder at the guard. “Ayan, would you assist me?” Antoni’s tone was casual, but there was a current beneath it—an invitation to cross a line, to blur the boundary between professionalism and want.
I heard Ayan approach, footsteps quiet on the polished floor. He stopped just behind me, and for a moment I could feel the heat of his body, the solid presence of someone built for protection and violence. When he placed his hands on my hips to steady me, his touch was careful but not impersonal. He was just as big as Antoni, maybe bigger, and the strength in his grip made my breath catch.
Antoni guided Ayan’s hands, showing him how to measure the breadth of my hips, the curve of my thighs, the dip of my lower back. Their fingers brushed against each other, then against my skin, cool and warm at once. The measuring tape grazed the inside of my thighs again, but this time it was Ayanwho held it, his knuckles skimming my cock as Antoni directed him lower, slower.
“Perfect, just like that,” Antoni murmured, his voice so close to my ear it made me shiver. “You see? Every detail matters.”
Ayan’s hands moved with practiced confidence now, sliding the tape up my leg, pausing to grip just above my knee, then higher. I could feel his breath on my lower back, the way his body tensed as my skin prickled beneath his touch.
I let myself arch further, putting on a show for both of them. My cock was hard, aching, and I knew they could see everything. The air in the room pulsed with want, each of us caught in the pull of something far stronger than decorum.
Antoni let his hand linger at the nape of my neck, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles just beneath the leather of my collar. His voice, when it came, was thoughtful and low. “I think we need to see how the colors play against your skin. Ayan, would you help Ash try on a few jackets? I want to see how they look from every angle.”
Ayan nodded, his deep voice steady but softer than I expected. “Of course.”
He moved to the wardrobe, selecting a handful of fine suit jackets—charcoal, midnight blue, a sharp black with an almost iridescent sheen. He brought the first one to me, meeting my eyes as he held it open.
“Arms back,” he murmured, his breath close to my ear. When I obeyed, he guided the jacket over my shoulders, fingers brushing the bare skin of my biceps, then letting his palms settle just a moment too long on my upper arms before smoothing the fabric down my chest.
The jacket was tailored to hug every line of muscle. Ayan’s hands moved with assurance, straightening the lapels, tugging gently at the hem, adjusting the fit over my hips with a possessive care that made every nerve ending spark.
Antoni watched from a few steps away, his gaze hot and assessing, taking in the way I looked in the suit, the way Ayan’s hands lingered at my waist, just above my cock. “Excellent. Now try the blue.”