Page 11 of Master Daddy

Kaleb sits across from me, already glistening. “So. You gonna tell me about the boy or do I have to drag it out of you?”

I stare at the glowing rocks in the heater.

Luke’s face flashes behind my eyes—flushed cheeks in the stationary store, that playful smirk, the way his breasts pressed against his shirt when he folded his arms and sassed me.

“Can’t stop thinking about the damn boy,” I admit, voice low. “Met him at the gym yesterday. Saved his ass from a bench press gone wrong. Told him he’s training with me while I’m in town. He’s… different. Sassy as hell. Smart. Got this sparkle in his eye that makes me want to—” I cut myself off, rubbing a hand over my face. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for anything serious.”

Kaleb chuckles, the sound echoing in the hot wooden box.

“Bullshit,” Kaleb barks. “I’ve known you twenty years, Mason. You don’t get that look in your eye over some random training partner. Let your feelings rule your head for once. Stop overthinking the rig schedule. Life’s short, brother. You deserve something real.”

I grunt, shifting on the bench as the heat sinks deeper into my muscles. My mind supplies a very unhelpful image of Luke in this sauna with me… naked, skin pink from the heat, sitting between my legs while I run my hands over his slick body, telling him exactly how to breathe through it. How he’d whimper when I got stern. How he’d melt when I praised him for taking it so well…

My cock thickens against my shorts and I have to adjust the towel over my lap.

“Enough of that shit,” I mutter, changing the subject. “Time to see if this cold plunge is as brutal as they say.”

We step out of the sauna and the contrast hits like a slap. Cool air on burning skin. We walk over to the cold plunge area—three metal tubs sunk into the floor, each with different temperatures displayed on digital readouts.

We pick the middle one.

2°C and, to put it in the clearest terms: Absolutely Fucking Freezing.

Kaleb goes first, lowering himself in with a loud hiss. “Motherfucker!”

I follow, stepping into the icy water. The shock is immediate and vicious. Cold spears up my legs, my balls try to crawl back inside my body, every muscle locks up. I growl through clenched teeth as I sink down to my neck, gripping the edges of the tub like it might save me.

“Three minutes,” Kaleb grits out, voice strained. “Don’t you dare tap out first.”

The water feels like knives. My heart hammers. But I breathe through it—deep, controlled breaths—just like I do when the rig is pitching in a storm.

One minute. Two. My body screams. Luke’s face appears again. I imagine him watching me, eyes wide, biting his lip at how tough I am. Telling him good boy if he ever tried this with me. The distraction helps.

At exactly three minutes I surge up with a roar, water cascading off my body. Kaleb follows right after, both of us gasping, laughing like idiots, skin bright red and tingling.

“Fuck yes,” I growl, shaking water from my hair. “That was brutal.”

We head straight back into the sauna, the heat now feeling like a warm hug after the ice. I stretch out on the bench, every nerve singing, muscles loose and buzzing with endorphins. The contrast is addictive. My mind drifts back to Luke again, how his body would look flushed from the sauna, shivering from the plunge, how I’d wrap his body in a towel and pull him onto my lap, warming him up with my hands and my mouth.

Kaleb catches me smiling. “Still thinking about the boy, huh?”

I don’t answer. But yeah. I am.

And for the first time in a long time, the idea of four weeks in town doesn’t feel like just a short break.

It feels like the start of something I might not be able to walk away from so easily.

We stay in the sauna another twenty minutes, shooting the shit about nothing and everything. By the time we shower off and head out, the sun is dipping lower and my body feels better than it has in months.

Clean. Recharged. Ready.

Tomorrow morning I’m meeting Luke at the gym.

And this time I’m not showing up late.

This time I’m showing up ready to be exactly what he needs: a spotter, trainer… and maybe, just maybe, something more.

* * *