Chapter 2

The rhythmic motion of Damien’s hand beneath the desk matched the steady moans coming from his computer speakers.

He leaned back in his leather chair, eyes locked on the screen in front of him.

Lux Monroe.

She was on all fours, a man behind her, gripping her hair, thrusting deep and hard.

“Fuck,” Damien moaned, stroking himself faster.

Her body was perfection—curves that could drive a man insane, eyes that begged and defied all at once. He’d been watching her videos for years—hell, he knew the exact moment new ones dropped. And this one? It was the most recent.

She looked even better in motion. The man on-screen dragged his hand from her hair to her breast, pinching her erect pink nipple. Damien groaned low and deep. His grip tightened around his thick, veiny cock.

He wanted to be that guy.

No—he wanted to be every guy who’d ever touched her, but better.

Her moans increased , breathy and raw, and Damien’s pace matched the rising heat on screen. He imagined it was him behind her. Him making her scream like that.

As she came with a loud cry, he followed—spilling over his hand and groaning with relief, his release as intense as hers.

Breathing hard, he sat there for a beat, then reached for a tissue, cleaned himself up, and slipped into the bathroom to rinse off.

By the time he returned, his body felt relaxed, but his mind was already shifting back to work.

He was about to sink into his chair again when the office phone rang.

He picked it up. “Yes?”

“Your new secretary is on her way up,” came the crisp voice from reception.

“Thank you.” He hung up and leaned back.

His last secretary had quit without notice, running off with the love of her life. The timing was awful—he was already swamped—but he hoped this new girl could sort out the mess.

He hadn’t interviewed her personally. Some HR nonsense about schedule conflicts. He didn’t even know what she looked like.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he said lazily, expecting to get this over with so he could return to actual work.

But all thoughts flew straight out the window the moment she walked in.

His jaw went slack.

“Lux Monroe,” he whispered, half in disbelief.

The woman frowned, confused. “Excuse me?”

She stepped closer, and he stood, eyes glued to hers, afraid she might disappear like a fever dream.

“Lux Monroe,” he said again, louder this time.

Her expression changed—shock, then discomfort, and then a flash of something defensive.

“H-how do you...?”

“I’m your biggest fan, Miss Lux.” He closed the space between them, took her hand gently, and pressed a soft kiss to it.

She stiffened slightly.

“It’s Lena. Lena Morgan. And I’m here for work,” she said firmly, though the flutter in her stomach betrayed her calm exterior.

God, he was handsome. Unfairly so. Broad shoulders, deep voice, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. And the way he looked at her? Like he owned her already.

No. She mentally slapped herself. She was here for a normal job. She wasn't filming, she wasn’t role-playing—she was trying to be normal.

“What kind of work?” he asked, a slow, knowing smirk curling his lips.

Her stomach turned. The butterflies died instantly.

“The job you hired me for. Your secretary. But if my... other work is going to make you talk to me like that, then I might as well leave.” She turned toward the door, her hand on the knob.

She didn’t need to be judged. Not again.

Before she could pull it open, a hand slammed it shut.

Damien’s hand.

He spun her around, pinning her gently but firmly against the door with his body. His scent invaded her senses—clean, masculine, with a hint of something darker.

“You’re not leaving,” he said, eyes burning into hers.

“Then don’t talk to me like that.” She glared up at him, refusing to back down.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to meet you,” he said, voice low, rough. His nose grazed her neck as he inhaled her scent. “I watched you just this morning.”

Her eyes widened. The video she’d dropped that morning...

He’d already seen it.

That meant...he’d seen everything. He'd seen her naked. He'd seen her get railed hard.

Her mouth went dry. She felt her cheeks heat up.

It wasn’t like her to get shy—she was Lux Monroe, for fuck’s sake—but right now, in front of him, she felt... exposed.

He was her boss. This wasn't a good way to start.

“I wish it were me behind you,” he whispered.

Her mouth parted in shock.

“Sir... I don’t think you should be saying that. It’s not professional.”

He chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled through his chest—and into hers.

“We’ll see how long you intend to keep it professional, Miss Monroe.”

She opened her mouth to correct him, to remind him she was Lena Morgan now, but the urge to escape his intense presence was stronger.

She turned the knob again. He didn’t move, so when she pivoted, her ass brushed the front of his trousers.

He groaned, low and primal.

She bolted.

Her heels clicked quickly across the floor as she made her way to what she assumed was her workstation. Her breathing was uneven, heart pounding in her chest, and worst of all—she could already feel heat coiling between her legs.

He’d done that to her. So fast. So easily.

Get a grip, Lena.

She looked around and found a large binder on the desk. Flipping it open, she saw everything she needed—his schedule, company policies, meeting memos. It was all there.

She sighed and cast a wary glance toward his office door.

" I'm your biggest fan, Miss Lux." She remembered his words.

This job was going to be hell.

Hell in a suit with deep blue eyes and a smirk that could ruin her.