The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary
Always five steps ahead, while I was still trying to figure out where the first square on the board even began.
And still—God help me—I wanted him. Wanted him more because of it.
He sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, muscles carved into lean tension, every inch of him somehow both restrained and devastatingly wild. The lamplight traced the sharp planes of his chest, his collarbone, the dark hollow of his throat. My fists curled tighter into the sheet. I wasn’t cold, but I shivered anyway.
“You would be my submissive,” he said plainly. His voice was velvet over steel. “Privately. Never at work and never in front of others. Unless I say so or we make arrangements towards that."
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