Made To Be His: A Spicy Urban Fiction Short Story

I was never the type to be claimed.
I read energy, light candles, and sell waist beads that snap when it gets too good. I don't do feelings. I do rituals. I do orgasms. I do escape.
Then he walked in—quiet, dangerous, thick with secrets.
Rashan wasn’t just another client looking for peace. He came in with his trauma on his breath, a Glock in his lap, and a stare that saw through me. I was supposed to cleanse him, maybe ride him once and move on.
But the way he touched me?
The way he whispered my name like it was prayer and possession in the same breath?
He didn’t want healing. He wanted me.
Now I’m caught in his pull, in his sheets, in his world.
And the more I try to keep it casual, the deeper I fall into something I swore I was done chasing—love that hurts so good.
He says I was made to be his.
And God help me… I’m starting to believe him.