LOGINHis lips crashed into mine like he couldn’t stop himself. Like he had been holding something back for too long and it had finally cracked. I wanted it just as badly as he did. “I tried to ignore this,” he muttered against my lips, voice rough and ragged. “Tried to erase it.” His mouth returned to mine, hotter, hungrier, tongue sliding into mine, tasting me like I was something he needed to survive. “But you’re everywhere,” he breathed, kissing the corner of my mouth, then down to my throat. “In my head, my routine, in my f*cking sleep haunting every dream.” I couldn’t answer. “You’ve broken me,” he whispered into my skin, like a secret he never meant to say out loud. “And I can’t even bring myself to hate it.” My body trembled at the admission. I affected him as much as he affected me and that thought was heavenly. ********* She was the quiet shadow behind his magnificent empire, efficient, obedient, forgettable.He was the billionaire with the Midas touch of gold and power, untouchable, commanding, and always in control. But when Mark Rexona walks into his office and finds his seemingly shy and diligent secretary, Teresa Smith , with her fingers deep in a fantasy that stares something in him, something that destroys his control. Two worlds collide then collided, hers, filled with quiet but intense yearning and hidden heat and his, was ruled by dominance and untamable desire. What starts as one very stupid mistake behind a supposedly locked door spirals into an exciting and intoxicating game of lust, secrets, and power plays. He wants to own her and her pleasure and she is still haunted by the ghosts of her past.
View More“I am calm, sir,” Teresa said evenly, pressing her headset tighter to her ear. “But shouting won’t speed up the process.”
The man on the other end of the line was practically foaming, accusing the finance team of theft, incompetence, and everything in between. His voice, loud and jagged, buzzed through her headset like static on a broken radio. “I’ve been on hold for twenty damn minutes!” he barked. “And now you’re speaking to the right department,” she replied, her tone cool as steel. “I just need your reference number to assist you.” “I don’t have a damn reference number!” Of course you don’t. Teresa muted her mic for half a second and sighed. The shrill cry of the answering machine echoed again behind her, like a chorus of chaos. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, her long nails clicking rhythmically as she pulled up the day’s fourth overdue report. Her eyes burned, dry from hours of screen glare and stress. “Sir,” she said, voice clipped but professional, “please hold while I connect you to someone in Insurance.” Without waiting for his response, she hit the transfer button and leaned back in her chair. The fluorescent lights buzzed above her like a swarm of mechanical bees. She glanced at the oversized digital clock across the room. 10:47 a.m. Only 10:47. And already, she was ready to scream. She sighed in frustration, combing her fingers through her chocolate brown hair. Same desk and chair. Same coffee-stained mug that she got from the dollar store. Same beige walls, humming with fluorescent despair and lack of warmth. Her blazer itched at her shoulders, the old material harshly rubbing on her skin, but she didn’t dare remove it because the dress code was unbelievably strict, and Mr. DuPont, her former boss, was always lurking, always watching for weakness. Or cleavage. Or both. He was a sadist. Always looking for someone to insult or ridicule. He clung to the powerful and cowered when then spoke but when they were out of sight he felt like a king in his territory. He became harsh, rude and perverted. But today was different. Today, Mr. DuPont had been fired. Sexual harassment, of course. Everyone knew what he was doing but because he had high connections in the company. But this time was different. He messed with the wrong person. Apparently an investor brought his teenage daughter whose fashion sense was hippy clothing. DuPont tried to harass her and throw his weight but unfortunately for him she wasn't someone he could offend. Teresa tapped the mouse absentmindedly as she staring into the screen. Her mind had already wandered. It always did. Daydreaming managed to keep her sane. Or at least functioning. Lately, though, even her fantasies seemed more...intense and explicit. Her body temperature was rising and a wetness pooled in her lower region. She pressed her legs together and took a deep breath trying to control her urges. She shuffled in her sit and placed her hand on the mouse trying to concentrate on her work. She clicked open another file. Graphs. Numbers. Percentages. Useless things. She existed the Word app and went straight to the Internet search engine. She began to browse about puppies and kittens when a voice came from behind. "Teresa are you done with the report." She jumped out of fright and clumsily exited the kitten blog that she was watching and left the screen blank. She turned to look at her supervisor. Mrs Demarco. A short harsh woman. She stool in front of Teresa with her usual scrunched up face and stern look. She crossed her arms across and chest and raised an eyebrow on Teresa's stunned look. "Well?"That snapped Teresa back in place. "I'm so sorry."She said as she began searching for the financial report that she had finished doing last night. She finally found the green colored file and gave it to Mrs Demarco. Mrs Demarco took the file from her but kept her intense look on her. Teresa stood blankly sweating with nervousness. "Did I do something wrong?"Teresa thought nervously. Mrs Demarco finally opened her mouth after moments of silence." Miss Smith how long have you been working in this company?" Teresa was confused about why she inquired but she still answered." It has been two years and seven months ma'am." "You have been here for two years? And have you ever had a demerit?" Mrs Demarco asked as she walked to Teresa's cubicle entrance. Teresa open her mouth to say no but Mrs Demarco caught her off instantly. "Nevermind I will find out by myself." And with that she left the cubicle walked out of the office with her heels clacking against the tiled floor. Teresa stared at the wall blankly for a while trying to understand what just wanted on. The more she thought about it, she became petrified. What had she done wrong. Was there a mistake in the report? But Mrs Demarco hadn't opened it yet. Did she forget to complete a pending task. Teresa then quickly took her phone from the socket underneath her table where she was charging and opened up her task organizer. She searched all her tasks from three months back but nothing was missing. Every single one had been completed and submitted. So what was the issue. Teresa then noticed that heart was spreading up and her lower region became wet again. "It's happening again." She thought to herself. She reached into her almond colored handbag and brought out a bottle filled with pills. She popped two into her mouth at first, but then added two more so extra measure. After a few minutes the effect began to show as her heart rate reduced and she felt better. She took a sip of water and turned to the screen determined to stay focused so she could leave the office early. Six hours later, the office official closed and employees were free to go. Teresa had stayed glued to her seat working diligently taking no breaks except for lunch and the occasional toilet breaks. She was able to complete all her tasks and was already one week ahead of schedule. She walked out of the general office were junior employees worked. She passed by her colleagues who were on groups discussing. She wasn't well known in the office. Always quiet and quick to leave. She never attended any office function unless it's a compulsory one. As she passed many of them pointed and whispered about her. Some called her rude and others called her stuck up. The whole office alienated her and only came to her for official business and even then they were rude and dismissive. Many a time Teresa had to report the attitude of her colleagues but she was ignored as always and the treatment continued. Teresa could hear the whispers but she didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything even if she wanted to. All she wanted was her soft bed and comforting equipments. She didn't need the approval of anyone in the office. They were all fake anyways. Smiling in front of you but won't hesitate to stab you in the back. That was the reality of the corporate world. Everyone is trying to rush the top and scramble for the benefits. Some may win but many lose and the consequences are drastic. Teresa was okay with her already complicated world. She didn't want to complicate it any further.After that incident, a decision had solidified in Mark’s mind. He had Teresa transferred to the desk directly outside his office. No reason given, none offered. When she pressed relentless for an answer he gave a bland one. Just a new seat one with a better view and a more direct line of sight. She took the explanation, feeling grateful and pleased that he was concerned about her. It was a strategic move on his part, positioning her within his immediate orbit, a constant presence that he could monitor, observe, and control. The move was a silent declaration of his ownership, an unspoken warning to anyone else who dared to approach.“Sir,” she had said one afternoon, her voice soft, tentative. “Do you want me to schedule the boardroom for your lunch meeting?”“No.” He closed his laptop with a slow, deliberate snap, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of his office. “Cancel it. I don’t like eating with people who bore me.”She blinked, her eyes wide with a flicker of surprise. “Woul
Mark had not been able to pinpoint the exact moment it began, this unsettling obsession with Teresa that was corroding his entire being. The constantly staring, the noticing, the almost strategic tracking of her every movement. Perhaps the obsession had truly ignited when he stumbled upon that discreetly recorded footage, and decided to keep a copy for himself, such a private moment where she had dared to moan his name, while her hand was forming a secret caress between her legs, right there in his office chair. Teresa had not merely integrated herself into becoming a part of his meticulously structured routine, she had detonated it. She was the chaos breathing life into his sterile, perfectly aligned systems, and astonishingly, he had allowed it. Worse, he didn't just tolerate this disruption, he revelled in it and wanted more.From behind the shield of his tinted office glass, he watched her. He observed the almost serene precision with which she moved through the office. The prec
The glow of the monitors cast long, distorted shadows across the silent office. Mark remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the blank screen where Teresa’s image had just been. The act of saving the footage, of preserving that moment of her vulnerability and his own dark fascination, felt both repulsive and inevitable. He was a man defined by control, by the precise orchestration of his life, yet this woman, this fleeting image, had shattered his carefully constructed world.He walked back to his desk, the silence of the office pressing in on him. It was a silence that no longer brought him peace but amplified the clamor within his own mind. The rhythmic tapping of his pen had stopped, replaced by the frantic beating of his heart against his ribs. He thought of Teresa’s eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and something he couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't just fear; there was an undeniable defiance, a raw, untamed spirit that resonated with something dormant within him.He pi
Mark sat at his desk long after the office had emptied out. The silence was deep and uninterrupted, just the way he preferred it. Or, rather, the way he used to.Now, there was only noise in his head. Constant, static-like noise that kept him awake and distracted all day. He was barely able to manage his work, and that was all because of one person.It had started the moment she stood in the doorway earlier that day, Teresa, with her big, wounded eyes and trembling hands. She had looked like she was about to break in two. He’d seen that look before, in victims, in weakness.But with her, it wasn’t weakness. It was restraint. And restraint… was far more dangerous. He couldn't help but be curious as to why she was restraining herself, why she seemingly lacked self-control in that area.The pen in his hand tapped a slow, methodical rhythm against the mahogany desk, the sound hollow in the cavernous office. His gaze drifted to the locked drawer where her pink panties now lived like a secr






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