Secretly Claimed By the Billionaire CEO

TheMorningAfter

Elena woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing fiercely on the nightstand.

She groaned, burying her face lower into the pillow. Her body felt… used. In the best possible way. There were faint bruises on her hips where strong fingers had grasped her, and a delicious pain between her thighs that made last night come racing back in vivid, filthy detail.

Damian Sterling.

She sat up so fast the room spun.

“s**t,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

The clock read 7:12 a.m. She had just forty-three minutes to shower, dress like a professional, and somehow pretend she hadn’t been bent over the conference table by the CEO last night.

Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number.

She answered cautiously. “Hello?”

A deep, far-too-smooth voice entered her ear. “Good morning, Miss Voss.

Elena’s stomach clenched. “Mr Sterling?”

Surprised? You sound surprised. You thought I’d just go away after I made you shout my name?”

Her face flushed with heat. "I— That's not—"

“Relax.” He cut her off, irritatingly amused. “My driver will be downstairs in ten minutes. Mercedes Black. Don't make him wait.

She snapped, already jumping out of bed. “I can take the tube like a normal person.

You could. But you won’t. Because I said so.”

The queue cut off.

Elena glanced at her phone, feeling both indignant and turned on. Cocky SOB.

She showered quickly and chose a fitted navy pencil skirt and a smooth cream shirt buttoned high enough to hide the faint hickey near her collarbone. Professionnel. Decent. Not like the woman who had groaned like a w***e last night on the 47th floor.

The driver was nice and quiet for the whole trip. She went out in front of Sterling Tower and felt eyes on her. Or maybe she was simply being paranoid.

The morning flew by in a whirl of meetings and spreadsheets. Elena kept her head down, scribbling rapidly, trying not to remember every second of last night. It was functioning.

At 11:47 a.m. Her email pinged.

From: Damian Sterling

Subject: My desk. Now.

Hi. No. No, please. Simply a command.

Elena gritted her teeth. She timed it exactly seven minutes before she walked up to the executive floor. Let him wait on. Margaret, his assistant, who was a grim woman of fifty, briefly raised her eyes. Go right in. “He's waiting for you.”

Elena opened the thick glass door.

Damian's office was huge, all dark wood, leather and floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the city. He sat behind his desk like a monarch on a throne, sleeves rolled up again, staring at his computer. He did not glance up as she came in.

"Close the door," he stated bluntly.

She did. Then simply stood there, arms crossed.

Finally, he leaned back, his eyes moving gently over her body. Possessively. You are late.

“I had important work to do.”

His lips stretched into a slow, nasty smirk. "Cute. “Sit.”

I'd rather stand.

Damian's eyes darkened. He was tall and menacing and walked around the desk. He was in front of her in two strides, crowding her space.

“You sit when I tell you to sit, Elena. His voice was low, nearly grumbling. And you’ll do much more than that.”

Her breath caught. f**k him.

His finger extended out and slowly traced her jaw. Did you think of me this morning while you got yourself ready? Did you feel how sore you are, and remember how I made you that way?”

"Stop," she said softly, but there was no force behind it.

“Nope.” He leaned closer, his lips against her ear. I've been hard thinking since I woke up about how tight you were. So wet. You got me just right.”

Elena's knees almost gave way.

He pulled back far enough to see the redness on her face. He was loving her fight. “Close the door.”

She stopped.

“Now, Elena. Or I'll bend you over this desk with the door wide open.”

Her hands were shaking as she turned the lock. The gentle click was deafening.

“Good girl.”

He didn’t stay. In a single, fluid move he turned her around and pushed her front against the chilly glass of the window. The metropolis stretched out below them. Binoculars would tell anyone. It made her dizzy with the anxiety and the excitement.

“Mr Sterling—” "Damian", he corrected, tugging her skirt up. His hand found its way between her thighs and was already wet. He let out a sinister laugh. "So f*****g eager for me. "Even when you're acting like you hate me."

"I do hate you," she choked out as two big fingers thrust within her without warning.

“Wrong.” He worked them gently and carefully, curling them exactly so. "Your body doesn't lie. “It’s dripping for me.

Elena bit her lip hard, trying not to moan too loudly. His other hand was free, and he put it over her lips.

“Shut up,” he told her ear. “Unless you want Margaret to hear what a needy little slut you are for your boss.”

The nasty statements ought to have driven her crazy. Instead, they had her wrapped around his fingers.

He worked her with slow, deep strokes, relentlessly, building her higher and higher but not letting her go over. Each time she came near, he relaxed or retreated, laughing at her fretful complaints.

“Please,” she eventually begged, muffled against his hand.

"Please, what?"

Damian…”

He twirled her again, set her on the edge of his desk and descended on his knees. Before she could grasp it, his mouth was on hers. Hot, demanding, relentless.

Elena’s head slumped backward. One hand raced to his hair, squeezing firmly while his tongue performed evil things. Here, too, he was rough, sucking hard and nipping, shouting obscene praise between licks.

"You taste like sin," he mumbled, pushing two fingers back inside her as his tongue concentrated on her most sensitive spot. Come get me. “Now.”

She bit her wrist to be quiet and came hard, wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through her.

Damian didn’t stop until she was shaking and hypersensitive. Then he stood up, rubbing his mouth with the back of his palm, appearing far too pleased.

He kissed her hard, her flavour on his tongue.

When he pulled back, the yearning was clouding his eyes. Get on your knees.

Before she could think better of it, Elena was sliding down. Her fingers worked at his belt, undoing it, freeing him. Thick, hard, already gushing. She gazed up at him from behind her lashes.

Damian's fingers tangled in her hair. "Good. Now let me see how sorry you are because you are late.”

She took him softly into her lips, teasing at first. He moaned, hips thrusting.

"Deeper," he commanded, easing her down. That's all. "f**k, just like that."

He was disrespectful the whole time, telling her precisely how he liked it and complimenting her, disparaging her in the same breath. “Look at you. On your knees for the man who pays your bills. Such a lovely little hidden slut.

Elena ought to have been offended.

Instead, she groaned around him.

He came with a low curse, holding her still, as she drank him dry. He helped her up then, gently, almost tenderly, and kissed her forehead.

For a moment he removed the nasty, irritating mask. He appeared almost human.

Then it was back again.

“Fix your makeup,” he muttered, already ducking away, buttoning his shirt. “You’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes. And Elena?

She glanced at him, stunned still.

This is how it’s going to be. Anytime I want, I'll take you. Where I Want. You’ll whine. You’ll battle me. And you'll cherish every second of it."

He grinned. "Now get out of my office before I decide to bend you over the desk again.

Elena fixed her garments, her hands trembling. She stopped at the door.

“You know you’re an arrogant asshole?”

He slid back into his chair, the very picture of the untouchable CEO.

“Yes. And by the end of the week you'll be glued to this arrogant prick."

She shut the door a little harder than she had to.

But as she walked down the hall on shaky knees, flushed cheeks, body still buzzing, she couldn’t deny the fact.

She was in trouble already.

And the worst part?

She wanted something more.