CHAPTER 6; THE CEO PRIVATE PATIENT

Richard’s POV

I knew she’d try to avoid me after that day. I had no intention of making it easy for her.

I wanted her entirely to myself. Every lesson, every calculated push of her limits, was carefully measured. I was fighting to keep control—refusing to take things further than I intended, no matter how tempting she made it.

William had been trying to reach me ever since I arrived in the city. I couldn’t have cared less what he had to say. He never would have bothered contacting me if my team hadn’t terminated his two most recent contracts.

That evening, I decided to host a company dinner after work. The memory of her walking out of my office without her underwear still burned through me, sharp and intoxicating.

The restaurant was loud with the usual post-shift chaos—clinking glasses, laughter that carried too easily, the low thrum of bass from the speakers. I watched her across the table. She laughed at something one of the guys said, but the sound never quite reached her eyes. Every few minutes, her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass. Nervous. I could feel it from three seats away.

When she finally stood and murmured she needed the restroom, I waited exactly four heartbeats before following.

The hallway was narrow, lit by a single warm bulb that left the corners in shadow. She reached for the door. I was already there. My hand covered hers on the handle, larger, warmer, and I pushed us both inside before she could protest properly.

The lock clicked behind us.

“You can’t be in here,” she whispered, spinning to face me. Her voice was low, but the tremor under it wasn’t fear. Not entirely.

I didn’t answer right away. I just looked at her—flushed cheeks, the pulse jumping at the base of her throat, the way her chest rose a little too fast. The air between us felt thick, charged. I could smell her perfume mixed with the faint scent of wine and something warmer, skin-heated.

“I just came to check on you,” I said, soft enough that it almost sounded gentle. Almost.

I stepped forward. She stepped back. The tile wall met her shoulders. My hands found her wrists and lifted them slowly, deliberately pinning them above her head. The stretch of her body against mine pulled a quiet sound from her throat. I felt it vibrate through both of us.

My tie slid free with a whisper of silk. I wound it around her wrists in careful loops, not tight enough to hurt, tight enough that she would feel every shift. Her fingers flexed once, testing. Then stilled.

I leaned in until my mouth hovered just above hers. Her breath ghosted across my lips—wine-sweet, uneven. I kissed her the way I’d been wanting to all night: slow, claiming, tasting the residual heat of the drink she’d finished. Her tongue met mine for half a second before she tried to pull back. I followed, deepening it until the small, helpless sound she made went straight to my cock.

When I finally drew away, her lips were darker, parted. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.

“Do you want your underwear back?”

Her eyes flashed—anger, want, something sharper underneath. The struggle lived right there in the space between us. She could have told me to stop. The word sat on her tongue; I saw it. Instead she swallowed.

“Help me out then, honey.”

The words came out rough. Almost a dare.

I freed myself from my trousers. The weight of my cock sprang heavy into the cool air of the restroom, already flushed and aching. Her gaze dropped. I watched the exact moment surprise flickered across her face, followed by something hungrier. She didn’t look away.

I guided her down with one hand at the back of her neck, the other still braced against the wall above her bound wrists. The first wet heat of her tongue against the head dragged a low sound from my chest. My thighs tensed. She licked again—slower this time—tracing the underside, tasting the bead of precum that had already gathered. The sensation shot straight up my spine.

Then she took me deeper.

The tight, slick slide of her mouth around the full length pulled a sharper breath from me. My free hand fisted in her hair, not forcing, just holding. Feeling every careful movement of her tongue, the way her throat worked around me, the small, muffled sounds she made that vibrated through my cock. Pleasure coiled low and tight. I kept my eyes open, watching the flush climb her cheeks, the way her bound hands flexed uselessly above her head, the soft surrender mixed with the defiance still burning in her eyes when she looked up at me.

The tension between us never broke. It only wound tighter—power and hunger and the quiet, desperate wanting neither of us was ready to name out loud.

I held her there longer than I should have. The wet heat of her mouth worked around me in slow, deliberate pulls, her tongue tracing the vein along the underside with a focus that made my vision blur at the edges. Every time she took me deeper, her bound wrists flexed against the silk of my tie. The soft, wet sounds of her throat filled the small space between us. I felt the tension coiling low in my gut, sharp and insistent, but I refused to rush it.

A low hum vibrated in my chest and spilled into her mouth. Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and dark.

“Swallow it,” I said, voice rough, almost quiet. “Every drop.”

She didn’t look away. The first pulse hit hard enough that my knees nearly gave. Pleasure ripped through me as she took everything I gave, throat working in tight, rhythmic flutters. A broken sound tore from my chest.

“Fuck—just like that,” I breathed. “Don’t waste any of it.”

Only when the last wave had passed did I ease myself from her mouth. A thin strand of saliva still connected us for a heartbeat before it broke. Her lips were swollen, shining. Her breath came in short, unsteady pulls.

I hauled her up in one smooth motion. Her bound wrists settled against my chest as I pinned her to the wall again. My cock, still thick and slick from her mouth, nudged against the soaked heat of her pussy. I didn’t thrust. Not yet. I just held there, the blunt head pressing against her entrance, letting her feel every inch of the promise.

Her hips gave the smallest, involuntary roll.

“Richard—” she whispered, voice tight, almost a warning.

I leaned in until my mouth hovered over hers. “Tell me you don’t want this,” I murmured against her lips. “Say the word and I’ll walk out right now.”

Her eyes flashed—anger, hunger, something rawer. She swallowed hard. The silence stretched between us, heavy and electric.

Then, barely audible she whispered “…Don’t stop.”

I thrust deep in one hard stroke.

The stretch of her around me was devastating—hot, tight, perfect. Her moan tore free, sharp and helpless, echoing off the tile. I swallowed it with my mouth, kissing her hard enough to bruise, catching the sound before it could carry beyond the locked door.

“Quiet,” I growled against her lips as her body arched against mine. “You don’t get to make noise unless I say so.”

Her thighs trembled, where they locked around my hips. I stayed buried to the hilt, letting her adjust, letting her feel the full weight of it all. Every shallow breath she took against my mouth only made the hunger worse.

“Feel that?” I asked, voice low and rough, hips still pressed flush against hers. “That’s all for you. And you’re going to take every inch like you were made for it.”

Her wrists tugged uselessly at the tie. Her eyes burned into mine—defiance and surrender tangled so tightly I couldn’t tell which one was winning.

I didn’t move yet.

I just held her there, deep and unmoving, and waited for the next broken sound she wouldn’t quite let herself speak.