Secretly Claimed By the Billionaire CEO

Turning the Tables

It was the early hours when Elena woke, cocooned in Damian's silk sheets, his massive arm possessively thrown round her waist.

She lay there for a long time, listening to his steady breathing. When he slept, the arrogant bastard seemed almost calm, jaw slack, black lashes against his cheeks. But she knew that when he opened his storm-gray eyes, the demands would begin again.

Not today. She was finished with being his convenient little plaything.

She slipped from beneath his arm and padded naked across the bedroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the city still waking, pink light seeping over the towers. She discovered his black button-down from last night, discarded, and slid it on, the hem skimming her thighs.

She walked into the kitchen, made two coffees, and waited.

Twenty minutes later Damian emerged, hair gloriously mussed, in only his black boxer briefs. He halted, seeing her leaned against the island, arms crossed, expression grim.

"Morning," he murmured, sleep still thick in his voice. He reached for her as he usually did—expecting her to melt.

Elena stepped backwards. "No." He lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into that maddening near-smile. "Not?"

"You heard me." He raised her chin, her eyes bright. "Sit down, Damian.

For the first time since she'd met him, a real astonishment flared across his features. He didn't take a seat."

Elena stepped forward, slapped her palms on his naked chest, and pushed him back till the backs of his knees smacked one of the dining chairs. "I said sit down."

He sat down. Slow. His eyes darkened with a mixture of annoyance and interest.

"You think you can just snap your fingers and I'll drop to my knees whenever you want?" she said low and harsh. You believe you own me because you f****d me on every surface of this penthouse?"

The arrogant ruler, even when challenged. Damian leaned back, opening his thighs. "I do own you. "Nope.

Elena climbed on top of him and straddled him. She grasped his jaw and forced him to look at her. Tonight, I own you."

She kissed him hard, biting down hard enough on his lower lip to make him hiss. When he tried to take control, she yanked his hair and pulled his head back.

"Hands on the chair," she ordered. "Don't touch them until I tell you."

Damian's eyes sparkled. "You are walking a fine line, Elena.

Good. Dangerous is good."

She rubbed against the rising hardness in his briefs, slow and steady. Tease. Penance. Every time he tried to push up, she lifted herself out of the way.

'Don't move,' she barked.

He snapped and obeyed, but just barely.

Elena kissed and nibbled her way down his neck and over his chest, leaving markings she knew he'd have to hide under his fine outfits. Her fingers found the waistband of his shorts, and she glanced up at him with a wicked grin.

"You made me beg so many times," she cooed. "Now you."

She released him, taking him into her mouth, deep and moist and unrelenting. Damian cursed as his hips jerked. She pulled off straight away.

"Don't move," I told him.

"Elena—"

She struck his thigh. Difficult. "Beg.

His jaw tightened. The brilliant Damian Sterling was struck dumb for once.

She took him deep again, rewarding him, manipulating him with her tongue and hand till his breathing came ragged. Whenever he drew close, she slowed down or stopped altogether.

"f**k… Elena… please…"

She grinned in his presence. "Louder.

"Please. "Let me come.

"Not yet.

She climbed back into his lap, settling on him in a single motion. They both grumbled. She rode him hard and fast, her hands on his shoulders, directing every action.

"Look at me," she said.

His eyes met hers, dark, furious, and absolutely riveted.

"You don't get to ignore me for hours and then expect me to come running," she panted, twisting her hips in a way that made him curse. "You don't get to play with me like a toy. I am not one of your employees, Damian. I am the woman who can knock the great Damian Sterling to his knees."

She purposefully clenched around him.

His hands shot to her hips. She stopped moving at once.

He placed his hands on the chair again.

He slammed them down, his knuckles white. 'You're going to pay for this later.'

"Maybe. But you'll come now when I tell you to.'

She took him harder, chasing her own pleasure, using him as he'd used her. She felt herself begin to tip over, so she leaned in and nibbled his neck.

"Come," she commanded.

Damian shuddered with a deep guttural cry, bucking his hips fiercely at her demand. Elena was close behind her, calling his name as ecstasy rolled over her.

They hung there, breathing hard.

After a long pause, Damian's hands moved at last, stroking her back under his shirt this time, softly.

You're going to be sorry," he mumbled, but there was a new note in his voice. Respect. Maybe a little wonder.

Elena smiled into his shoulder. "Bring it on, Mr. Sterling," I said.

She clambered off him, her legs trembling, and went to the shower without a backward glance.

"Elena," he called after her.

She stood still in the doorway.

He was still sitting there, tousled, stained, and breathing hard. The most powerful man in town. And brought down by her.

"This is not over," he said.

She smiled. Excellent. "I'm just getting started."

The rest of the morning was a charged stillness. Damian regarded her like a hunter who has finally found someone worth the hunt. He was still arrogant and still harsh when he told her exactly how he wanted her dressed for the day, but there was a new edge to it.

Like he was redoing.

He sent her a text in the office.

Damian: My penthouse suite. Tonight, 8 o'clock. Don't wear anything under whatever you pick.

Elena grinned at her phone and typed:

Elena: Only if you ask me sweetly.

She turned her phone off and went back to her job.

For the first time since this whole thing started, she felt powerful.

She enjoyed it.

A lot.