The Billionaire’s Secret 🥀 | Part 15: Monday Blues & Digging Deeper (Patreon)

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

I woke up Sunday morning in Sebastian’s bed, sunlight already spilling across the dark sheets. My body felt heavy, pleasantly satisfied, every muscle reminding me of last night with Sebastian.

The faint ache between my legs made me shift and smile despite myself. Sebastian was still asleep beside me, one arm thrown across my waist, face half buried in the pillow. His breathing was slow and even, hair messy in a way I had never seen outside this room. I watched him for a minute, tracing the line of his jaw with my eyes, the way his lashes rested against his cheek. He looked almost soft like this, unguarded.

I leaned in and kissed his shoulder lightly. He stirred, eyes opening slowly, dark and sleepy. A small smile tugged at his mouth before he even spoke.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough from sleep.

“Morning.”

He pulled me closer, rolling so I was underneath him, legs tangled. The kiss that followed was lazy, unhurried, his mouth moving against mine like he had all the time in the world. His hand slid down my side, cupping my ass, fingers pressing just enough to make me gasp into his mouth. He was already half hard against my thigh, and I felt myself stirring in response.

He broke the kiss long enough to look down at me. “You sore?”

“A little,” I admitted.

He kissed my neck, slow and deliberate. “I’ll be gentle.”

He was. Slow, deep thrusts, face to face, eyes locked the whole time. His hand stayed between us, stroking me in time with his hips until I came with a quiet, shuddering moan, spilling between our bodies. He followed soon after, burying himself deep and groaning my name against my throat.

We stayed like that afterward, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. He kissed me again, softer this time, then rolled off and pulled me against his chest.

“Stay for breakfast,” he said.

I nodded. The rest of the morning passed in a haze of coffee delivered on a tray, lazy touches, and quiet conversation. He drove me home himself, black car gliding through the city streets, his hand resting on my thigh the entire way. When we reached my building he leaned over and kissed me one last time, slow and claiming.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

I smiled. “You better.”

He watched me until I disappeared inside.

Back in my apartment the weekend felt like a dream I had just stepped out of. The place looked smaller, quieter, ordinary. I dropped my bag by the door, showered off the last traces of his scent, and tried to settle into Monday. Work waited. Bills waited. Reality waited.

At the office I moved through the morning on autopilot. Emails, revisions, the usual grind. Jacob noticed first.

“You look like you got the weekend of your life,” he said, leaning over the partition with a grin. “Spill. Was it the mystery man again?”

I laughed it off. “Just good rest.”

Olivia wheeled her chair closer. “Bullshit. You have that glow. Like you got railed by a god and he left you flowers afterward.”

Heat crept up my neck. “You two are ridiculous.”

They kept teasing until I escaped to the break room for coffee. Alone for a minute, I leaned against the counter and let my mind drift back. The pool. The massage table. Sebastian’s mouth on mine, his cock deep un my throat, the way he had groaned my name when he came inside me. My body reacted instantly, cock stirring in my pants at the memory.

I closed my eyes for a second. Was that real? Or just weekend fun? A billionaire indulging himself for two days before going back to his real life? The thought stung more than I wanted to admit.

Back at my desk I opened my laptop, tried to focus on a client brief. My phone sat beside the keyboard. No new messages. I checked again. Nothing. I told myself it was fine. He was busy. He said he would call.

But the quiet felt louder than it should have.

By lunch I could not take it anymore. I pulled up my browser and typed “Tyler Voss” into the search bar.

The results loaded instantly. LinkedIn profile first: Tyler Voss, In-House Counsel at Blackwell Industries. Years of experience, top-tier law school, headshots in sharp suits. Photos from events: Tyler standing next to Sebastian at a gala, hand on his shoulder, both smiling. Another from a charity dinner, Tyler laughing at something Sebastian said. The familiarity was unmistakable.

I clicked through more. An article from two years ago mentioned Tyler “handling sensitive personal matters” for Sebastian during a business dispute. Another called him “Blackwell’s right-hand man in legal crises.” Nothing explicit, but the closeness was there in every line.

I closed the tab, heart beating a little faster. My go-to guy. The words from the poolside echoed. Tyler knew Sebastian in ways I did not. He had history, access, trust. And I… I had a weekend.

I stared at my screen, coffee forgotten. The ache from the weekend was still there, pleasant and deep, but now it came with a question I could not shake.

Was I just the weekend fun? Or was there room for more?

I did not know yet. But I knew I needed answers.

My stomach twisted. Heart beating too fast. Flashback hit me hard: Tyler standing by the pool, watching Sebastian climb out of the water, eyes lingering just a second too long on the soaked black briefs, the water streaming down Sebastian’s body. The way he had smiled at me afterward, warm but knowing. “I haven’t seen Sebastian this chirpy in a long time.” The wink. The casual confidence. Who was he to know Sebastian’s moods? To notice when he was happy, or relaxed, or anything at all?

I leaned back in my chair, coffee forgotten and cold beside me. Jealousy stirred, low and unfamiliar. It was not loud or angry yet, just a quiet burn. Who was Tyler to him? A friend? A colleague? Something more? The phrase “my go-to guy” echoed again, casual in Sebastian’s mouth but heavy now in mine. It felt possessive in a way I had not expected. Like Tyler had a claim on parts of Sebastian I had not even touched yet.

The rest of the workday dragged. I answered emails on autopilot, revised layouts without really seeing them. Every time my phone stayed silent, the doubt about Tyler grew a little louder. 

By the time I got home, the apartment felt too small, too quiet. I dropped my keys on the counter, kicked off my shoes, and sank onto the couch. My body still carried echoes of the weekend: the faint soreness, the ghost of Sebastian’s hands on my skin, the taste of him in my mouth on that massage table. I closed my eyes and let the memory play. His groans, low and rough. The way he had looked at me while I took him deep, eyes never leaving mine. “Good boy.” The praise had landed like heat in my veins. I shifted on the couch, cock stirring despite the ache.

But the memory soured almost immediately. Was that real? Or just weekend fun? A billionaire indulging himself for two days before going back to his real life? The thought stung more than it had that morning. I opened my phone again, scrolled to our last messages. His reply from Sunday night had been short: “Miss you already.” No follow-up. No call. Just that.

I typed a new message. Deleted it. Typed again. “Miss you too. How’s work?” I stared at the cursor blinking. My thumb hovered over send. What if he did not answer? What if “soon” was code for “when I feel like it”? I locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the cushion beside me.

The silence felt heavier than it should have.

I stood up, paced to the kitchen, poured a glass of water I did not drink. My mind kept circling back to Tyler. To the way Sebastian had smiled when he said the name. To the way Tyler had looked at his body coming out of the pool, water streaming off his body, briefs clinging to every line. The ease between them. The history. I did not know what it was, but I knew it existed. And I knew I was not part of it.

I picked up the phone again. This time I opened the browser instead of messages. I searched “Tyler Voss Blackwell Industries.” More photos. More articles. Tyler at Sebastian’s side during a high-profile deal announcement. Tyler speaking at a legal conference, Sebastian in the front row. The captions always used words like “trusted advisor,” “longtime counsel,” “close confidant.” Close. The word kept appearing.

I closed the browser. My chest felt tight. I did not want to be jealous. I did not want to be the guy who overanalyzed every glance, every casual mention. But the weekend had felt too good, too real, and now the silence made it feel fragile. Like something I could lose before I even understood what it was.

I sat back down, staring at the blank screen of my phone. I needed answers. I needed to know where I stood. Not just with Sebastian, but with the parts of his life he kept hidden. With the people who knew him better than I ever would.

I opened our message thread again. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

I typed: “Hey. Can we talk about Tyler?”

I stared at the words for a long time. Then I deleted them.

Not yet.

But soon.

I needed to know what “go-to guy” really meant. And I needed to know if I was ever going to be more than the weekend he had wanted to keep.

────────────────The Billionaire’s Secret 🥀 | Part 16: High-Rise Revelations