HORNY BOSS

JACK'S POV I leaned casually against the pristine white wall of my office, watching the young woman who had entered at the worst, and yet most necessary, moment. Vera. Her name already tasted like sin. She bent down, dragging her fingertip across the glossy floor to collect the drop of cum that had escaped her mouth. Without shame, she licked it clean, slow, deliberate, like savoring a lollipop. Damn temptation. When she finished, she slumped to the floor and bowed her head. For the first time since this started, I felt exposed. Not because I was naked. But because I had lost control. I didn’t even know her. What kind of man lets his employee walk in on him like this? What kind of man lets her do this? But I already knew who she was. Mrs. Briggs had briefed me yesterday about the only candidate qualified enough for the secretary role. I didn’t want a female employee, not after my last entanglement, but her résumé had been too spotless to ignore. I exhaled and stepped away from

JACKSON'S POV I scared her away, didn't I? What the fûck is wrong with me? How, in God's name, did it get to this extent? I have always avoided it until her! Why would she come in at that time? And now I can't get enough of her! Damnit, I am doomed!! I hit the wall until my knuckles bled. This is exactly how I scared my wife away! "Haven't I done well by avoiding that gender, especially her type, for five years? I have taken care of it on my own until she appeared from nowhere at that tempting time!!" I was even scared of myself and what I could do if I avoided my own mother and sister! How can I get so obsessed with sex? And why the fûck is she like an addiction to me? Even my wife… no, my ex-wife wasn't into my system like that. Was it the way she looked at me pitifully? No, I don't need her or anyone pitying me! Was it about the way her soft palms tended to me with so much care and desire? Oh fuck it, I don't need anyone caring about me because they will always get away when

JACKSON'S POV “I can’t take this anymore! I’m sorry… I hope you forgive me,” I rasped when I tore my lips away for air. My chest heaved, my throat raw, but the fire in me wouldn’t die. The ten-day contract had been my excuse, my safety net. Ten days until my doctor returned, ten days until the pills arrived, ten days until I could cage this beast clawing inside me. If he had been here now, none of this would have happened. But he wasn’t. And she was. Vera Santos. The one woman who made my body betray my mind. She was a drug I couldn’t quit, and tonight, I didn’t even want to try. I grabbed her shirt and ripped it open, buttons scattering across the floor like broken rules. Her breasts tumbled free, firm and soft, tipped with pink buds that begged for my mouth. I gasped, my control snapping. I latched onto one nipple, sucking hard, biting lightly until she cried out. My hands slid lower, grabbing her ass roughly, kneading and pulling her against me as if I could mold her body into

JACKSON'S POV I couldn't go back to the office. I thought about going to the hospital, but I remembered that my doctor had not come back yet, and there was no one I could trust there to ask the questions clouding my mind. So I drove home sadly, knowing that I had done it again! Yes, I have scared another woman away like I did before. Which woman in her right senses would accept being fûcked by a sex freak who can hurt her in the process and only work on satisfying himself and not giving her pleasure? I'm such a dîck! Monica, my ex-wife, is right: I am a beast, and I belong in the woods with wild animals. She had made it clear to me that no woman would agree to have a relationship with me and it's a prophecy that is coming to pass. After parking my Royce Phantom inside the carport between my blue Lamborghini and Bugatti Veyron, I thought about how perfect I had dreamt my life to be, which this sickness had deprived me of. Stepping down from my car, I shoved my hands into my slacks

WRITER'S POV Vera shoved her hands into the Burberry jacket, the same one she'd received anonymously on her birthday last year. She had refused to wear it until today. The jacket was far too expensive for her taste, too mysterious, and too perfect. But lately, she'd been doing a lot of things she wouldn’t normally do if she were in the right state of mind. Wearing the jacket was one of those impulsive, borderline reckless decisions. And the jacket wasn’t the only anonymous gift. Each month, on the 5th, without fail, she received a love letter and a single lily flower. Always anonymous. At first, the gestures unsettled her. But eventually, she brushed them aside. After all, half the things in her house were gifts from people she actually knew. One flower a month shouldn’t be a big deal, especially if the sender wasn’t making any direct threats. Still, it lingered in her thoughts. She tied a small Burberry scarf to complement the jacket and checked herself in the standing mirror. H