The Billionaire's S*x Diet Obsession
I'd make her pay for every minute—on her knees, perhaps, begging for forgiveness with that sweet mouth wrapped around my cock.
A knock shattered my thoughts. "Enter," I barked, my voice a whip crack.
Marlene, my secretary, slipped in, closing the door behind her with a soft click. At 35, she was a polished professional: blonde hair in a severe bun, pencil skirt hugging her athletic legs, blouse unbuttoned just enough to hint at the lace bra beneath. She'd been with me for five years, handling my schedules with ruthless efficiency—and occasionally, my needs when the urge struck between meetings. Her blue eyes met mine, a knowing glint in them as she approached the desk, hips swaying with deli