All Chapters of Exclusive Privilege: The Billionaire’s Toy: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

North’s POVI obeyed without hesitation, my knees falling apart on the polished wood of the table. The vulnerability was staggering, the cool air of the dining room hitting me everywhere. His gaze was a physical weight, pinning me down as he slicked the lube over his fingers, the sound obscenely loud in the silent room.One of his fingers circled my entrance, teasing, before he pushed it inside. I clenched automatically, a sharp intake of air my only response. He didn't stop. He worked it in and out, slowly, his eyes fixed on my face, watching every flicker of pleasure and discomfort. He added a second finger, scissoring them, stretching me open. The burn was sharp, but underneath it, a deeper heat began to build, coiling low in my stomach."Look at you," he murmured, his voice a low, rough timbre that vibrated through me. "Already falling apart on my fingers. You're so tight, North. So fucking ready for me."He curled his fingers just right, and a jolt of pure pleasure shot through m

North’s POVMy body might collapse from exhaustion, but my mind liked to resurface at this hour, dragging me back into consciousness whether I wanted it or not.I glanced to my side.The other half of the bed was pristine. Untouched. The pillows fluffed, the duvet smooth.He had not lain there. Not even for a moment.A strange feeling tugged at my chest.He could have sent me home. He could have left me in a guest room. He could have handed me off to the staff like an inconvenience.Instead, he carried me here.Maybe he wasn’t as merciless as I had painted him in my head.I stared at the ceiling, tracing the faint architectural detailing with my eyes.Was it enough?Everything I did tonight. The conversation. The compliance. The effort not to seem stiff or inexperienced. A man like him had probably had better. More polished. More practiced. Warmer bodies that knew exactly what to do without being told.I exhaled slowly.Just as my eyes began to close again, the door opened.They snapp

North’s POVAs I reached our gate, the scent hit me.Garlic sizzling in oil. Fish sauce was blooming in the heat. Fresh basil torn by hand. Jasmine rice was steaming.Pad kra pao.She only made that when she wanted everyone at the table.I slipped inside and dodged Winter’s questions about where I’d been, ignored East’s suspicious stare, and made my way toward the kitchen.The sound of the spatula scraping against the wok was steady. Controlled.Mae stood at the stove, shoulders slightly hunched, movements efficient despite the fatigue lining her body.Her eyes.They were darker than usual. Swollen at the edges. Not from sleep.From crying.A tight ache gripped my chest.I paused at the doorway, suddenly unsure. If I spoke now, would she crumble? Or would she harden?She reached for the soy sauce without turning, then stilled.Slowly, she looked back.For a split second, something flickered across her face. Worry. Calculation. A mother measuring the weight her son carried before he sa

North’s POVHer silence stretched too long.I looked up.She wasn’t folding anymore.“If you don’t tell me who he is,” she said evenly, “you are not leaving this house. And if you leave without my consent, I will not receive a single cent from you.”She meant it.In moments like this, I missed my father, the liberal, soft-spoken man who could dissolve tension with a joke and kiss my mother into forgiveness. He had always been the bridge between fire and water.Too soft for the world.Too principled for corruption.He refused to join his colleagues when they dipped their hands into dirty money, so they framed him instead.I still remember his first stroke.His first arrest.His first court appearance.So many terrible firsts.Each one breaking him a little more.Now he lay in the next room, trapped inside a body that refused to obey him.And my mother?She was surviving on willpower alone.Who cared about an NDA at this point?She had lost her so-called friends the moment we lost every

North’s POVI watched him turn toward the hallway, coat shifting with the movement.“Follow me.”That was it.No explanation. No glance back.And still, I followed.There was something about being near him that rewired my pulse. It wasn’t fear exactly. It was anticipation sharpened to a dangerous point. Like standing at the edge of something irreversible.His room was dimmer than mine. Controlled lighting. Heavy curtains half drawn. The air cooler.He didn’t even glance at the bed.Instead, he walked to the oversized cushioned chair near the window and sat, legs slightly apart, posture relaxed but deliberate.Then he looked at me.Not speaking.Just looking.It wasn’t admiration. It wasn’t affection.It was assessment.I moved to pull my shirt over my head.“Come here,” he said calmly. “Help me undress.”My stomach tightened.I stepped forward.“Take your time.”That sounded less like permission and more like instruction.I stopped in front of him, close enough to catch the faint scen