CHAPTER 2; THE CEO'S PRIVATE PATIENT

Chloe’s POV

The next morning I moved through the familiar motions of getting ready—shower, makeup, the navy blouse that still smelled faintly of the dry cleaner’s starch—and for a few hours the rhythm of work held the rest of my life at arm’s length. I was good at my job. Sharp. Focused. The files on my desk were a clean, ordered world I could control.

I had just sat down and begun sorting the day’s correspondence when Lia appeared, leaning against the partition with that particular smile she reserved for needling me.

“Chloe, you look hot today,” she said. “I bet the new CEO falls for you at first glance.”

I forced a polite curve of my lips. “I’m married.” The words tasted metallic, bitter on my tongue, but I kept my voice even. Everyone already knew the new boss was Richard Thomson—my husband’s old friend. I had never met him in person. Until yesterday.

A few minutes later, the whole floor gathered near the glass entrance. Nothing could have prepared me for the moment he walked through the doors.

It was him.

The gynaecologist from the day before.

My stomach dropped so hard I felt it in my knees. Of course. The Thomsons owned half the private hospitals in the city. I kept my head down, praying the fluorescent lights and the press of bodies would hide me, but his eyes found mine the second he stepped into the lobby. He walked straight toward me, voice calm and absolutely charming, “You. Come with me to my office.”

A few colleagues smiled, clearly assuming the sudden summons was about my work. I followed in silence. Every step tightened the knot in my chest until it hurt to breathe. The carpet under my heels felt suddenly too soft, the air too warm, carrying the faint scent of his cologne—something clean and expensive, cedar and citrus, the same one that had clung to the exam-room air yesterday.

The moment the door closed behind us, the atmosphere changed. He crowded me against the desk without warning. The edge of the polished wood bit into the backs of my thighs. His breath brushed my ear, warm and steady.

“From today, you’re my personal secretary.”

I swallowed. The taste of morning coffee turned sour in my mouth. “I don’t know if I can, sir. That role is… new to me.”

“I’m the boss.” His tone left no room for argument. One hand rested on the desk beside my hip, close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of my skirt. “If you don’t like it, quit.”

My pulse hammered against my throat. I could smell the faint residual soap on him, the same clinical cleanliness from the hospital, layered now with power and certainty. “I’ll be in your office tomorrow,” I whispered.

That night, the apartment was empty again. William’s side of the bed was still perfectly made. I tried to push the day out of my mind the only way I knew how. I reached for the drawer, pulled out the familiar toys, and let myself sink into the slow, practised rhythm of pleasure. The silicone was cool at first, then warmed against my skin. I closed my eyes and chased the building pressure, breathing harder, body tightening—

When my phone rang.

Richard’s name lit the screen.

In my haste, I answered instead of silencing it. The soft, broken sounds of my almost-climax still spilt into the open line. There was a pause on the other end.

Then his voice, quiet and knowing.

“Chloe… what are you doing?”

I froze, but my body betrayed me, still trembling on the edge. Heat flooded my face; the toy was still pressed against me, humming faintly.

“You left early,” he continued, the sarcasm soft and deliberate, “just so you could go home and do that.”

Embarrassment burned through me, sharp and humiliating, yet I managed a shaky, “Sir… did you need something?”

“I’m checking on my employees’ health,” he said, pausing briefly. “And my friend’s wife.”

The silence stretched, thick with everything unspoken. Then, in that same commanding tone he had used in the office:

“Continue what you were doing.”

I heard the soft rasp of a zipper on his end. My breath caught. He mimicked the sounds I made—low, controlled moans—while the wet slide of his hand over his cock carried clearly through the speaker. The knowledge that he was touching himself to the sound of me made my thighs clench harder around the toy.

“Follow me,” he murmured. “Deep breath… and hold it. Stay with me. Keep breathing through it… do you feel that?”

“Boss, can we stop now, please?” I moaned, the words breaking as pleasure spiked. My free hand fisted in the sheets. The scent of my own arousal rose between us, intimate and undeniable.

“No. Keep going,” he said, firm and unyielding.

“Richard, please—” I begged, already at my wit’s end, body trembling, the edge so close it hurt.

“Do you feel that?” he asked again, teasingly, the edge of a smirk in his voice.

Not long after, we both climaxed together. My body kept shaking from the pleasure, aftershocks rolling through me in waves while I struggled to catch my breath. The phone was still pressed to my ear; I could hear him breathing hard on the other side, the quiet sound of him cleaning up.

Just then I heard William’s voice carrying down the hall. “Chloe? Are you back?”

My heart jumped so hard I almost dropped the phone. “Richard, he’s back—I have to go,” I whispered urgently, already scrambling to shut the toy off and yank the covers up.

“Why panic?” he teased, that low, amused edge still in his voice. “Would you like to keep going and let him watch us?”

Before I could answer, the door opened. William walked in. His eyes narrowed the second he saw me—flushed, breathless, the phone still in my hand.

“What do you think you are doing?”

I forced a weak smile and pressed a hand to my forehead. The residual slickness between my thighs made me shift uncomfortably under the sheet. “Oh… I have a fever,” I replied, trying to sound convincing.

“Stay away from me then,” William yelled, taking a step back. “You always manage to spoil my mood.”

He turned and left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that followed felt heavy and cold. A moment later Richard’s phone buzzed again on the other end of the line. He glanced at the screen , then spoke with that same calm, knowing expression I could almost see.

“Meet me in the office tomorrow,” he said quietly.

I got up the next day and left earlier than usual, doing my best to avoid William’s still-sleeping form. The office had its own private suite attached—an executive apartment behind a discreet door. The moment I stepped inside I was met with the scent of him: warm skin, expensive soap, a faint trace of the same cologne. His clothes were neatly arranged on the bed. My eyes landed on his boxers.

Curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to know his size—wanted the private, shameful knowledge of it. I picked them up and brought them to my nose, inhaling the lingering scent of him: clean cotton, a trace of musk, the intimate heat of a man who had worn them only hours before. My pulse kicked hard.

Just then I heard my name called from the inner room.

Before I could think twice I hurried toward the sound. Richard was just coming out of a hot bath, still tying a towel low around his hips. Water beaded on his skin, sliding down the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abdomen. He spotted the underwear in my hands and let out a low, amused laugh.

“Do you like it?” he teased.

Oh my God. I screamed the words silently in my mind. I needed a cold shower. Right now. The scent of steam and clean male skin filled the small space between us.

He closed the distance in a few slow steps, eyes locked on mine. The towel sat dangerously low. I could see the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the edge.

“How did your little workout go yesterday?” he asked, voice soft and teasing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied, denying it even as heat still lingered under my skin and the memory of last night’s orgasm made my thighs press together.

He chuckled, low and knowing. “As your doctor, I believe you need a bit of follow-up.”

“Don’t move,” he said.

I pushed at his chest, trying to put some distance between us, but the solid heat of him under my palms only made the resistance feel pointless. He smiled and held out a sleek black dress. The fabric was soft, expensive, the kind of thing that would cling.

“Cocktail party tonight. You’re coming with me,” he said.

“Isn’t your PR supposed to do this?” I asked, still catching my breath, the scent of his damp skin making it hard to think clearly.

“Well… this is your job now,” he whispered against my ear, the warmth of his breath making me shiver. “Change. Don’t keep me waiting.”

That was the final thing he said before he stepped back and gave me the illusion of privacy. Even that didn’t last long.

He walked in while I was still changing, the door clicking shut behind him. I stood in only my underwear, the black dress half on, half off. His eyes locked onto me instantly, dark with open desire that made my breath catch.

“Why did you come in?” I asked, clutching the dress against my chest. The silk was cool against my overheated skin.

“Need a hand, ma’am?” he teased, voice low and rough.

Before I could answer he closed the distance. Strong hands lifted me effortlessly and set me on the edge of the table. The polished wood was cool under my bare thighs. He spread my legs wide, stepping between them as his mouth claimed mine in a deep, hungry kiss. I tried to match him, but I couldn’t keep up—the heat of him, the way his tongue stroked against mine, the residual taste of toothpaste and something darker, left me trembling and breathless. One of his hands slid under the half-on dress, palm hot against my waist.

“Please, Richard… stop it… I can’t take it,” I moaned against his lips, my hands fisting in the damp towel still around his waist. The fabric was soft and wet under my fingers; I could feel the hard length of him pressing against my inner thigh through the thin barrier.

“What are you afraid of?” he retorted softly, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes were steady, patient, utterly in control. “I’m your doctor, remember? And I think it’s time for the next phase of your treatment.”

“Relax,” he murmured, trailing a slow kiss along my jaw. The scrape of his stubble sent sparks down my neck. “I just thought… since you owe me for taking my things without permission, a little payback is only fair.”

“What pay?” I asked, genuinely confused, my pulse racing so hard I could hear it in my ears.

He didn’t answer with words.

Instead he reached into the drawer beside us, the soft scrape of wood on wood loud in the quiet suite. He pulled out a sleek black vibrator—smooth, slightly cool against the air—and brought it between my open thighs.

I reacted on pure instinct.

My free hand shot down, palm pressing flat against the hard plane of his lower stomach, trying to push him back. “Richard—wait. Don’t.” My voice came out thinner than I wanted, already frayed. “This is—this is too much. I can’t—”

He didn’t step away.

He simply caught my wrist with his free hand, gentle but unyielding, and guided it back to the edge of the table. His thumb stroked once over the racing pulse at the base of my palm, a silent reminder of who held the power in the room.

“Shh.” The sound was soft, almost kind. “You’re already wet for it.”

I shook my head, thighs trying to close even as he kept them spread with the solid press of his hips. The towel around his waist brushed the sensitive skin of my inner thighs; the heat of him was dizzying. “Please. Someone could walk in. William could—”

“William isn’t here.” He leaned in, lips almost brushing the shell of my ear. “And you answered the phone last night. You stayed on the line. You came for me while your husband was still in the building.” The vibrator touched me then—cool silicone kissing the slick heat of me—and I jerked, a broken sound escaping before I could stop it. “You don’t get to pretend this isn’t what you want.”

I was left speechless. i hated he was right,I tried again. My hips twisted, attempting to shift away from the blunt pressure. The movement only made the first slow push more deliberate. He eased the toy inside me in one continuous, measured stroke until it was seated deep. The sudden stretch forced my back into a sharp arch; my fingers tightened hard on the damp towel, still knotted at his waist. A helpless, shameful sound tore from my throat.

The low hum started a second later.

It vibrated through every nerve, deep and relentless, and my body clenched around it even as my mind kept fighting. “Take it out,” I whispered, the words trembling. “Richard, please—I can’t do this. Not here. Not with you.”

He only watched me, eyes dark and steady, one hand still braced beside my hip, the other resting lightly on the base of the toy so I couldn’t push it free. His voice dropped to that same calm, commanding register he had used on the phone,“You’re not allowed to take it off.”

The order settled over me like a physical weight. I sat there on the edge of the table, legs still open, the dress bunched around my waist, the toy humming steadily inside me while he watched every micro-reaction on my face. The scent of sex and steam and his cologne mixed in the air between us. My body wanted to rock against the vibration; my mind kept screaming that this was wrong, that William could walk in, that I was married to his friend.

Richard only smiled, slow and knowing, and stepped back just far enough to let me feel the full, relentless pulse of the toy while he waited for me to decide whether I would obey… or try to fight him for control I already knew I no longer had.