Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (158 page)

When I stood up to leave my tiny cubicle, I noticed almost everyone in the office was staring at me. The looks on their faces were anything but reassuring. They were watching a woman on death row walk to the electric chair. I walked by them all, holding my head up high in defiance of the panic that flowed through my veins. I was a picture of perfect calm, as though I was completely at peace with what was going to happen to me.

In my supervisor’s office, his face was glued to a computer screen. I politely interrupted him.

“Mr. Grander, where may I find Mr. Strauss’s office,” I asked.

I could feel every pair of eyes trying to penetrate the walls of his office. Every pair of ears attuned to our discussion like a cat’s ears to the scurry of mice.

“His office is on the top floor. Actually, it
is
the top floor, but you’ll need a security escort to get there, Samantha. I’ll call them up for you.” My sweet boss, Brian Grander, tried to sound calm and collected, consoling, even. He must have known the death that awaited me on the top floor of the building.

A security guard came right away, as though he was waiting for me the entire time. I felt my face redden against my every wish as he walked me to the elevator. If I was imagining every person in the office staring at me before, I definitely wasn’t now. Even people unaware that I had been personally summoned by the CEO to his office were now very aware that a security guard was walking me to the elevator. It was an unusual sight. I tried to seem chipper, excited even. Really, I just felt sick to my stomach.

We entered the crowded elevator, once more stealing all the attention. The guard entered a number on a keypad below the buttons on the panel that I had never really noticed before. As we climbed higher in the building, the elevator cleared out. We had reached the top floor, or so I thought, when the guard entered yet another number on the keypad and the doors closed. I felt the sensation of us climbing again. The elevator doors opened and I walked out.

I was in a relatively small office with a gorgeous wooden desk before me. A woman in her early fifties, a woman you could tell was once incredibly beautiful, and aged gracefully, looked up from behind the desk. Next to her desk, two doors loomed large—the main entrance to his office. I heard the elevator doors close behind me and when I turned around, the security guard was gone.

“Samantha Dubois, I presume?” asked the receptionist.

“Yes, I’m Samantha. Alexander Strauss told me to come to his office at four p.m.,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. A large metal clock, artfully tasteful, hung on the wall behind the receptionist’s desk. It was four p.m. exactly. I felt a little reprieve of relief. I was on time.

“He’s expecting you. You may go in.” And with that, her attention to me was severed completely. Her eyes lowered and it was though I ceased to be in the room.

I walked to the doors and stood before them. They opened for me as though I had mentally commanded them to do so. Alexander Strauss stood there, having opened the door. He ushered me in.

As I walked in, I brushed by his arm briefly. A surge of electricity moved through me and every hair on my body stood on end. Immediately that longing between my legs returned, demanding that the tension be released from my body. We were so close in that moment that I could turn and grab him. I pushed back the thought of embracing him and walked in the office.

I regained my composure, but only for a moment before I felt myself lost in wonder immediately. The office was massive. The floors were a sleek stone that I could only guess was some sort of marble. A panorama of windows showed the entire city landscape. A sun that had just begun to enter its descent hung above the other buildings in the city. We were looking down on almost every single other building. Before me was a sleek black conference desk that seemed to stretch for miles. Luxurious office chairs that each looked more expensive than my entire college tuition were tucked under the desk, waiting to be sit upon by powerful executives, investors, and shareholders.

I looked around, taking in the office, trying to let its entirety settle in my eyes. It was sparsely furnished, deliberately so. A few paintings, all abstract, hung against the walls. There were no plants. Everything was sleek and smooth—clean, precise, without flare but with an edge that screamed authority and intelligence. Various leather chairs and a few couches were strewn about to give certain areas of the office a casual relaxed feeling, although too perfectly arranged to suggest that they were there by chance.

Every piece had its place. The energy flowed between them magnificently. The entire office was art in and of itself. Yet the heart of the office was clearly the desk. Every arrangement in the office pointed towards the desk in some way. All things flowed to the desk. Wherever you were in the room, you were never the center. The center was the desk, and standing before the heart of the office was Alexander Strauss, leaning back against the desk casually, his legs crossed before him.

“Hello Samantha, thank you for coming,” he said, his voice neutral.

“You’re welcome. Your office is...it’s incredible,” I said, immediately regretting it. It was a stupid thing to say. I blushed and a pang of panic hit my chest.

“Please, sit.” He extended his arm to a chair that was only a few feet away from him—almost too close for how huge the office was. I sat down, thanking him politely. I consciously kept my eyes on his face—they wanted to crawl down to where his legs met, to where his legs pushed up a bulge in his pants.

He pushed himself off the desk and in a brief moment, a small scent of his cologne found its way to my nose delicately. It was a scent I’ve never smelled before, a scent that I could imagine drowning in with ecstasy.

He walked around his desk and sat behind it, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Samantha Dubois. Twenty-three years old. Employed by Strauss Engines as a clerical assistant for the past three months. Temporary status.” His voice slowed slightly when he said “temporary status”, the emphasis subtle but clear. Another slice of terror threatened my composure but I remained unshaken outwardly. “You’ve held numerous temp jobs. Why?”

“It was the only work that I could find. I’ve been hoping to work my way up the corporate ladder. Build my success over time with hard work.”

“A very noble idea indeed. The American Dream personified,” he said. I tried to detect whether I could hear sarcasm in his voice and I decided that he was being genuine. “It must have been hard, with your parents and all.”

I choked a little bit at the mention of my parents and tried to hide it. How did he know about their bitter divorce? “Yes, I suppose it was,” I said. It was all I could think to say. There was no change on his face.

“Tell me, what do you know about me?” he asked. Every word flowed out of his mouth like lyrics in a song, yet his voice never wavered or gave any sign of inflection. I watched his lips part in slow motion and wanted them on me—everywhere on me.

“I really don’t know much about you, to be honest. Only some office rumors and what you can read on the internet. I hadn’t even seen a picture of you until today,” I said.

“Extrapolate on the rumors for me. Tell me what you think they really point to.”

I paused for a moment. I could try to ham up the good parts of the rumors, appeal to his ego.

One look at him and I could tell he was too smart for that. Anything but honesty would undo me. If I tried to lie or suck up to him, he would destroy me. And when I really thought about it, I would rather walk out of this building today with a destroyed career but with my integrity. I would not grovel or lie. I breathed in deep, slowly exhaling. A slight smile cut through his unyielding stoicism.

“You have very high expectations, maybe even astronomical. You drive everyone around you so hard that you break people who can’t handle it. And when they do break, you get a personal satisfaction out of it,” I said. “Also, I’ve heard the way the women in the office talk about you. They all want you and they seem to think you could have whatever and whoever you want.”

“Do you think these rumors are true?” He crossed his hands. I covetously drank in the sight of them, the pleasure of sight a poor substitute for the feeling  of those hands gripping me, holding onto me until they had had their fill of my flesh.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Why do you think I’m such an...” He paused for an agonizingly long moment to breathe in. “Arrogant prick?”

The reason he brought me up here hung in the air like a noose for me to hang myself with. My chest hurt from my heart thudding against it with every panicked beat. Breathe. This will be over soon.

“Before today, I had never even seen you. Practically none of the employees have seen you in person. You own this company and all these people’s lives depend on you and you’re too good to even grace them with your presence.”

As the words came out of me, I could feel my anxiety and fear giving way to anger. I was ruined, sure, but I was going to tell this rich-boy my true feelings. I would tell him off in a way everyone in his life was too scared to. I would be a bitter memory. The bitch who refused to beg for her job.

“It must be easy for a man who has so much to be arrogant. A man whose dad left him not only an inheritance, but an entire company! How could such a man possibly understand what it’s like to struggle? What it’s like to fear that one day you might not have a job. You were born the son of a king. How could you not be arrogant?”

Strauss stood up from behind his desk. He walked up to me and stopped a foot away from my legs. My words still lingered in the air; he had said nothing in reply. I felt my anger swell even more when I thought he was trying to intimidate me. Then my eyes fell to his crotch and my anger was faded. Through his pants I could see he had an erection. It stood out against his legs, a figure of everything that I had yearned for since our encounter at lunch.

I flustered. “Oh, I’m uh. I know I must have...I know my job is lost, right?” I asked stupidly. My thoughts were draining out of me as I drank in the sight of his hard penis so close to me. I rose up and kicked the chair back clumsily. “I’m sorry, I should go.”

I turned around to flee. The confusion had struck me like a slap across the face when I saw he was hard. But as I muttered more apologies and tried to leave, his hand grabbed my arm firmly and swung me around. Our eyes met for a moment. He pulled me to him swiftly and our lips joined. His tongue slipped inside my mouth against mine and my knees gave way.

I was limp in his arms, wrapped in his strength. Yet I did not fall a single inch. He held me firm and pulled me closer. I could feel his cock against me, its warmth radiating out of his jeans. I wanted him inside my mouth, inside me. I wanted to feel him slide in and out. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to taste his orgasm as it wracked through his body in ecstatic convulsions. I wanted. The want filled me with an emptiness only he could fill.

He stood back from me, his eyes a magnet from which I could not turn away. His hands ran through my hair and wrapped around it. He pulled it and I felt my head go back as I fell to my knees, now an inch away from him. My eyes widened at the sight of his cock so close, despite it still being behind cloth.

“Look at me,” he said, the authority of his voice making me quiver. “Always.”

My hands worked on his pants quickly and tore through the zipper and button. They dropped away and the extension of his perfect cock stood before me. My mouth opened and I felt his hands push on the back of my head as he slid down my throat. I worked my tongue on his shaft slowly, feeling every inch of him as he pushed me further, much further than I thought I could possibly go. He held me like that, him deep in my throat, my eyes cast up towards his. His face remained calm. His blue eyes tore through every particle of me as he began to slide out of my throat.

Again and again I drank him in as deep as it could go, and each time it seemed he plunged deeper. I could feel my panties soaked with the want of him entering me. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and I licked the head slowly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. All thought was gone. Only this moment existed.

I felt myself float up. I was on my feet again. Strauss’s hand shot up and grabbed my face firmly.

“Now close your eyes,” he commanded. There was no choice. Darkness swam over my vision and his hand released my face. “Strip. Slowly.”

I took off every piece of clothing so slowly I felt tormented. I wanted him quickly inside of me. The passion of our tryst was heightened by the sheer force of the moment. With my eyes closed, I peeled off layer after layer and yet no doubt or restraint entered my thoughts. I needed him to fuck me. The words cried out in my mind. More than anything, I wanted him to fuck me.

The room spun. He had turned me around. The cold desk greeted my face as he pushed me over. Sharp needles of pain spread across my face as I cried out from surprise. His hand slid up between my legs and I cried out in approval. His other hand wrapped against both of my arms and pulled them back. I was restrained. I was his. He had complete control over me.

A finger slid inside me. The sensation rocked through my whole body. I could feel him in every particle of my being. I clenched my ass muscles as he slid deeper. His finger caressed my asshole as another slid over my clitoris. My eyes closed so tightly that I was beginning to see stars and I let out a moan. His hand immediately slid out of me and I was left with the lingering feeling of his touch.

Then I felt the head of his cock against my pussy. It rubbed slowly. I started to push back, unashamed at wanting him to take me completely when the hand holding my arms stopped me. This was to be on his terms. He squeezed my arms to scold me while his other hand found its way back to my hair, pulling it tight. My eyes closed, face pressed against the desk, he was slowly sliding into me.

Inch by inch, it seemed to take hours. No pulling outward, it was always going in. His cock pushed further into me and every cry I stifled was followed with another that tried to escape. As I felt his legs press against mine, I could feel an orgasm rising in me. I tried to fight it, how, I didn’t know, and then his hand pulled my hair hard again. There was no stopping it. I was going to come.