(Dominic POV)
“Anything on the girl?” I asked, swirling the scotch in my glass as I leaned back in my office chair. Caleb, my trusted right hand man and secretary looked up at me before replying, “Still digging. Since we only have a name it's harder to get much. Plus the cameras at the gala were turned off due to the media current snoopings. At the moment all I have is the description of her you gave, so it'll be a lot harder to find her but I'm working on it." I nodded in understanding. Aria. That was her name. At least that was what her boyfriend has called her. It suited her though. Sweet and pure, just like her. It had been three fucking days, and yet the thought of her still stuck to me like glue. I could still feel her tight, wet pussy wrapped around my fingers. So goddamn sweet it almost made me lose my mind. I’d had women, hundreds of them. Models Actresses who lived for the scandal. Heiresses who thought spreading their legs was the same thing as closing a deal. They were all the same: polished, I’d had women, hundred of them. Models, actresses, heiresses, hell, even princesses. They all spread their legs like it was business deals, all eager for the contract I carried in my pants. And I took them, fucked them and forgot them. That was my rule. No attachments. No fucking exceptions. So why the fuck was I still tasting her? Why was I still thinking about her? What the fuck was wrong with me? Anytime I closed my eyes, all I could see were those big, innocent eyes staring up at me. Begging me to ruin her. Was it because I didn’t go all the way? Yeah. That had to be it. Usually, I fuck them, finish, and forget. Clean, easy, no strings. But with her—I’d stopped halfway. And now my body wouldn’t let me forget it. She was unfinished business and unfinished business festered like a wound. If I’d just pushed in and just buried myself inside that virgin cunt, she’d already be nothing more than another blurred face in my past. It wasn't too late though, I'd just have to find her, fuck her and I'll be back to my normal self in no time. I set the glass down hard. “Keep looking. I want everything about her—who she is, where she lives, the kind of things she likes, eats, wears. Everything. You understand?" “Yes, sir." He nodded. Just as I was about to ask about today's schedule, the door slammed open. “Dominic.” A sultry, confident voice called. I could recognise it without even looking up. Miranda Vale. Of course. She stepped in like she owned the place, hips swaying, her designer gown clinging to every curve. At forty-two, she still looked hotter than half the women I’d tossed aside at twenty-two. All polished and sexy. Miranda and I went back five years. She'd been the CEO of a media firm we had to do business with. She had a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. We’d signed contracts and drank wine afterwards. s She didn't just know how to sell her company but also herself, so I let her climb into my bed. Should’ve been one night but Miranda didn’t do one nights. Even though she had a husband, she’d slid into my bed again, then my office, then my life. She was the only woman I’d broken my—never the same woman—rule for. She was too cunning, kinky, too good at playing the game. She knew things other women didn’t, how to beg, how to obey, how to twist her body into whatever I wanted. She was also the only one who could keep up with me. It was no wonder her husband couldn't satisfy her. She was was too depraved and needed a man who could take her apart and still make her beg. She needed a ten inch dick like mine to slam into her, pushing her over the edge and I’d been more than happy to oblige. Until now. Caleb cleared his throat, his eyes flicking between us. “I’ll, uh…leave you two alone.” He quickly slipped out, shutting the door. Miranda wasted no time, walking straight to me and sliding her hands around my neck while licking her lips seductively. I caught her wrists, prying her off. “What the fuck are you doing here? I told you, no more office visits.” She smirked, unbothered, and guided my hand down to under her dress. She wasn't wearing any panties and her pussy felt hot against my hand. She was already wet. “I know,” she purred, grinding against my fingers. “But I couldn’t wait, I just missed you so much. I need you, Dominic.” “You needy little slut, you deserve what's coming to you,” I growled, but my hand didn’t move away. Five years, and she still knew exactly how to bait me. God I was hopeless.(Dominic POV)"Yes daddy, punish me. Punish your little slut."I shoved two fingers into her dripping cunt, curling them deep until her back arched off my desk. Her nails clawed for purchase, lipstick already smeared across her cheek.“Look at you,” I growled against her throat. “Parading around like a businesswoman, but spread out like a common whore.”Her moan was shameless. “I am your whore, Daddy. Just for you.”I added a third finger, stretching her and making her cry out. Her thighs trembled, her cunt squeezing me desperately, begging for more.“You come in here begging me to ruin you,” I hissed in her ear, teeth grazing her lobe. “You want me to tear that dress? Slap this ass raw?”“Yes, please,” she gasped. “I need it. I need you rough.”I ripped the rdress down her body, fabric shredding beneath my hands. Her tits bounced free, nipples already erect, begging for pain. I twisted one hard between my fingers until she whimpered.“Pathetic,” I spat, yanking her head back by her
(Dominic POV)“Anything on the girl?” I asked, swirling the scotch in my glass as I leaned back in my office chair.Caleb, my trusted right hand man and secretary looked up at me before replying, “Still digging. Since we only have a name it's harder to get much. Plus the cameras at the gala were turned off due to the media current snoopings. At the moment all I have is the description of her you gave, so it'll be a lot harder to find her but I'm working on it." I nodded in understanding.Aria.That was her name. At least that was what her boyfriend has called her.It suited her though. Sweet and pure, just like her. It had been three fucking days, and yet the thought of her still stuck to me like glue. I could still feel her tight, wet pussy wrapped around my fingers. So goddamn sweet it almost made me lose my mind. I’d had women, hundreds of them. Models Actresses who lived for the scandal. Heiresses who thought spreading their legs was the same thing as closing a deal. They we
(Arai’s POV)I woke up the next morning in my bed, my legs still trembling from satisfaction.I'd escaped from the gala hotel last night while Dominic was still asleep.A slow grin curved over my lips as I stretched across the sheets, still smelling his cologne, still feeling his fingers buried deep inside me, pulling out an orgasm so hard it left me dizzy.Poor Dominic King.He thought he’d stumbled into some fragile little virgin, drunk and drugged, begging for help.He had no idea what he’d actually gotten into.That was just the first stage of the plan and it already showed signs of success. I knew it wouldn't continue so well though.Dominic King. The Playboy Mogul Behind King’s Entertainment, was just, fuck me, perfection wrapped in a suit. They said God didn't have favourites but how then was a single man given the looks, money, body and from what I'd seen yesterday the perfect cock to satisfy a woman.He’s been linked to politicians’ daughters, foreign princesses, and more Vic
(Dominic’s POV)“My body…it feels hot.”Her voice, fuck. It was soft, shaky and so damn pure it twisted something in me. It was like she had no clue what those words could do to a man. Every syllable stroked down my spine and into my cock, and for a moment all I could think about was how she’d sound with my cock buried deep inside her and filling her little pussy.She was trembling under me, skin flushed, chest heaving against that little dress. Her pupils were blown wide, lips red and parted, hair falling loose around her face like a goddamn halo.And she looked at me as if I was the only man in the world who could save her from burning alive.I should’ve left. Should’ve walked out and let her deal with the consequences of being too naïve at a gala where sharks circled in tuxedos.But something about those wide-eyes, pleading, lips swollen and parted, burned straight through every carefully built wall I’d set around myself.Her fingers clutched at my jacket. “Please…” she whimpered
(Dominic’s POV)Women were like champagne; best when expensive, bubbly, and easy to forget in the morning. A fresh bottle every night kept the taste sharp, the bubbles alive.I’d had enough to drown a weaker man. Brunettes with pouting lips, blondes with manicured nails that dug into my skin like they wanted to own me, redheads who swore they’d be the one to tame me. They all blurred together in the end. Names forgotten, perfume fading, lingerie left like trophies in my penthouse drawers.My only rule was simple: never taste the same bottle twice.The moment a woman started looking at me with expectation instead of hunger, she was done. The magic was in the chase, the momentary surrender, the way they gasped like no one had ever touched them the way I did. After that, it was tedious. Predictable.I didn’t fall in love. I didn’t commit. I devoured.And why wouldn’t I?When you’re young, rich, and ruthless enough to own everything you touch, women are just another luxury—like cars, wat