All Chapters of The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Teresa harshly slammed the door behind her and tossed her heels into the corner of the room like they personally offended her. Well they did actually. The heels were tight and made her toes scrunch up together. Her heels were red and they hurt whenever she put them down on the ground."Just great."She hissed as she limped to her bed dropping on the soft bouncing bed .The blazer followed suit and was tossed to the couch in the corner of the room. Then the blouse went next and finally her bra. After Each piece felt like she was peeling away the day layer by suffocating layer. She tossed her bra to a corner of room feeling the relief at her breasts being free from bondage. Her milky white breasts had reds stripe marks from the harsh hold of the bra. She held up her breasts massaging them softly. Her fingers traced her nipples and she shuddered as she felt the sharp feeling shoot through her spine. Sje kneaded her soft big breasts, trying to grab in her hand the much that she could.Her

Teresa repeatedly blinked at the HR email that she had just received, like it might disappear if she stared at it long enough. Effective immediately, Mr. Chandler's contract with Rexona industries has been terminated. Please report to the CEO’s office tomorrow, Monday morning at 9 a.m. prompt. You will be temporarily filling the role of his secretarial finance assistant. Please do not be tardy.Theresa read it once. Then re read it another time. Then reread it five times. Her old boss was fired, and she the simple,low-level, keep-your-head-down, nobody knows and bothers to talk to Teresa was being sent up to the top floor, the peak of the company where the CEO, Mark Rexona himself resided. And she was going to be his assistant. Teresa set the laptop down on her bed and scuffled a few distance away from it. She was staring into space, still trying to process the information just given to her when Mariana waltzed into her room and plopped on her bed with a stick of sour jerky in her

Mark Rexona was a schedule oriented man. He had a fixed time for a particular activity and made sure not to exceed the time. Many people saw him as weird, others said he had a weird strand of autism but Mark didn't care. He has his own set of rules which he swore to follow to the core.He woke strictly at 5:00 AM. No alarm and no hesitation. Just a mental resolve and his ever punctual biological clock.By 5:05, he was in the gym. Stretching then off to the weights. After that is a treadmill run then a series of push-ups. Every rep counted was , every drop of sweat calculated. He did hid workout without a single bit of distraction, no phone, no calls, no nothing. Just him alone in his underground basement gym.By 5:55 Mark was done for the morning. Then he hit the cold shower. Scalding water was for weak men trying to feel something. Mark didn’t need to feel. He needed control, and to get control he believed he needed to train his body to withstand anything and everything possible.At

Teresa stared at the blinking cursor on her resignation letter. Her fingers hovered, trembling over the keyboard. Just send it, her mind whispered to her. Run away before everything collapses around you. You will be completely humiliated and destroyed, her mind basically screamed at her.But she couldn’t resign. Not yet at least. She didn't know what he would say about what she had done. The gravity of the situation was seriously dawning on her.She stood from her desk in her room, her legs shaky as she made her way to the kitchen, clutching her arms around her chest. The apartment was silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the background sound of the show playing on the television. She couldn’t breathe. Her mouth was dry. Her panties… he still had them.He saw her.Every Single Thing.Her knees buckled slightly and she sank to the kitchen floor with tears streaming down her cheeks like a silent surrender.Mariana walked in a minute later, towel wrapped around her hair

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