One Forbidden Night: The Billionaire's Obsession

Chapter 8: Rewarded

Elara

The conference room smelled of fresh coffee and polished mahogany.

Twelve executives sat around the long black table-suits, tablets, expectant faces. They were all older than me, sharper-dressed, more experienced. I felt like an intruder in my own skin.

The satin dress clung to me like a second layer of shame and desire. No underwear. Every shift of my hips reminded me: bare, slick from his fingers this morning, still sensitive from the way he'd made me come on his desk while the city watched through the windows.

Damian sat at the head of the table.

Calm. Controlled. Untouchable.

His eyes met mine the second I walked in.

Dark.

Hungry.

A promise.

"Miss Thompson," he said, voice smooth as silk. "You have the floor."

I swallowed. Placed my tablet on the stand. The screen lit up-my rebrand proposal for the new Blackwood Hotels chain.

Luxury. Dark. Sensual.

Like him.

I started speaking.

My voice was steadier than I expected.

I walked them through mood boards, color palettes, typography, campaign taglines. "Obsession in Every Detail."

The room listened. Nods. Notes.

I didn't look at Damian. Couldn't. If I did, I'd see the way his jaw tightened when I said "obsession." I'd see the bulge in his trousers. I'd remember how he'd f****d me this morning-bare, deep, filling me until I sobbed his name.

Twenty minutes later, I finished.

Silence.

Then applause-polite, professional.

One VP spoke. "Strong. Bold. It fits the brand perfectly."

Damian's voice cut through.

"Excellent work, Miss Thompson."

He stood. "Meeting adjourned. The rest of you-out."

They filed out quickly. No questions. No lingering.

The doors closed.

We were alone.

He locked them.

Walked toward me.

Slow.

Predatory.

I backed up until my ass hit the edge of the conference table.

"Impressive," he said. "You earned your reward."

My breath hitched.

He stopped in front of me. Close enough that I could feel his heat.

"Turn around. Bend over."

I obeyed.

Hands flat on the table. Dress riding up. Exposed.

He stepped behind me. Pressed against my ass-hard c**k straining through his trousers.

"You were perfect," he murmured, hands sliding up my thighs. "Quiet. Professional. Dripping the whole time."

Fingers found me-slick, swollen.

He groaned. Low. Primal.

"No one knew," he said. "But I did. I could smell you. See how hard your n*****s were under this dress."

He pushed two fingers inside. Slow. Deep.

I bit my lip to stifle the moan.

"Quiet," he reminded. "Someone might walk by."

He added a third finger. Pumped. Curled. Hit that spot.

My knees buckled.

He caught me with an arm around my waist. Held me upright while he finger-f****d me-slow, relentless, thumb circling my c**t.

"You're going to come on my fingers again," he whispered. "Right here. Where they all were. Where they could walk back in any second."

The thought sent a dark thrill through me.

Danger. Exposure. Possession.

I clenched around him.

He sped up.

"Come," he commanded.

I shattered-silent, violent-body convulsing, release coating his hand. Tears pricked my eyes from the intensity.

He withdrew. Turned me around. Kissed me-deep, claiming.

Then he lifted me onto the table. Spread my legs wide.

Unbuckled his belt. Zipper down. c**k sprang free-thick, pierced, leaking.

No condom.

He positioned himself at my entrance. Teased-just the head, the piercing nudging my c**t.

"Beg for it," he said.

"Please," I whispered. "f**k me."

He thrust in-hard, deep, bare.

The stretch. The heat. The piercing dragging along every nerve.

I cried out-muffled against his shoulder.

He f****d me like he was punishing me for being so good-deep, relentless, hips slamming.

One hand pinned my wrists above my head. The other played with my n*****s-pinching, twisting.

I came again-fast, shattering-clenching around him.

He didn't stop.

Kept going.

Until he buried himself deep with a guttural groan-coming hot and thick inside me, pulsing, filling me completely.

We stayed locked together-panting, trembling.

He kissed my forehead. Soft. Unexpected.

"You're staying tonight," he said. Not a question.

I nodded against his neck.

He pulled out slowly. Watched his release trickle down my thigh.

Smiled.

"Mine," he whispered.

And this time, I said it back.

"Yours."