Secretly Claimed By the Billionaire CEO

ArrogantPossession

The rest of the day dragged on in torture. Elena endured two strategy meetings, a team lunch and a never-ending presentation on brand positioning, struggling to stay still in her chair. Every time she crossed her legs, she could feel the lingering ache of Damian’s fingers and mouth. Her tummy churned each time her phone buzzed. But he never messaged her again. Not one time. By six-thirty she was half-angry, half-irritated. Dickhead.” He plays with me like a toy in his office and ghosts me the rest of the day. She was packing her bag when her phone finally flickered to life.

Damian: My driver is out there. Get in the automobile.

Elena: I am not your property.

Damian: You are tonight. Don’t make me come down there and pull you out myself. She hated how that threat turned her on so immensely. The black Mercedes was right where he said it would be. The motorist said nothing but nodded politely and pulled into traffic. In twenty minutes they were sliding into the private subterranean garage of Manhattan's most luxurious apartment tower. The lift started up as Elena’s heart raced. When the doors opened up to a huge penthouse, she nearly forgot how to breathe. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded the entire room. Modern art on the walls. In a corner, a grand piano. A kitchen that looked like a magazine. There was Damian Sterling, resting against the marble island with a glass of whisky in his hand. He was wearing a black button-down shirt, the sleeves pulled up and the first few buttons undone. His hair was still flawless, but the eyes were darker. More hungry. Took you long enough. He said without greeting. His tone was clipped and harsh. “I hate waiting, Elena.” She threw her suitcase on the nearest couch. “You could have said please,” she retorted. He laughed, a short, haughty laugh. Sweetheart, I own this building. Please? The company you work for is owned by me. “I own the air you breathe right now.” He slowly sipped his whisky, his gaze sweeping over her body. “The only thing I don’t own is that smart mouth of yours yet. “But I’ll do it.” Elena’s cheeks were aflame. “You are unbelievable.” “And you’re overdressed.” He put the drink down and beckoned with one finger. “Get over here.” She didn't move, her arms folded. Damian's face went stiff. Three big strides across the room, he grasped her waist and pulled her into him. Come when I tell you to come. Got it?” Before she could answer, his mouth slammed down on hers. The kiss was brutal, all teeth and power. He tasted of fine whisky and raw force. Elena despised how fast she dissolved into the thing. He pulled back enough to whisper at her lips. “Undress. Gradually. I want to see." “Here?” “Yeah, here. In my lounge. Like the tiny hidden slut you are to me.” The coarse remarks gave her a horrible thrill. Her fingers trembled as she proceeded to unbutton her blouse. He reclined, like a monarch, watching over his latest acquisition, reclining back against the island again, his eyes never leaving her. He made a low sound of satisfaction when she stood there in nothing but her black lace bra and matching underwear. “Much better. Now you turn about. Hands on the glass. Elena went to the big window overlooking the shimmering city. The glass felt chilly against her palms. She was exposed and defenceless and insanely aroused. She was visible like this to anyone with a telescope. Damian came up behind him. His fully clothed body against her almost nude one. One hand slipped inside her underwear and found her wet. Look at you," he muttered, the arrogance pouring from every word. Already dripping down your thighs for a man who scarcely spoke to you all day. “Pathetic.” “f**k you,” she gasped as he traced her c**t with leisurely precision. He chuckled darkly and smacked her ass hard enough to make her yelp. Watch your mouth. “Or I’ll f**k it instead.” He thrust two fingers inside her without warning, curling them harshly. Elena whimpered, her forehead against the pane. "That's all," he jeered. “Moan to me. “Let the whole city know what a desperate little intern you are.” His fingers moved faster, his thumb working her c**t. Each time she neared him, he paused or backed away altogether, smiling at her furious whimpers. “Damian, please—” “What?” “Please. He nibbled at her shoulder. “Use words like a big girl.” I got to come.” "Be better. “You f*****g arrogant bastard,” she hissed. He slapped her ass again, this time harder. "Try again." “Please, Damian…” I want it. “Let me in, please.” “Good girl.” Finally, he gave her what she wanted; he f****d her with his fingers till she smashed against the window, calling out his name. Her legs were quaking so terribly he had to hold her up. Before she could recover, he spun her around and lifted her. Instinctively she placed her legs around his waist as he carried her around the apartment, like she weighed nothing. His bedroom was big, with a big king bed covered in black silk sheets. He unceremoniously dropped her onto it. “On all fours.” Elena obeyed, breathing hard still. She heard his belt buckle, his garments moving. Then the bed sagged beneath her. His hand stroked possessively down her spine. “Such a perfect ass. Built for my undoing.” He didn’t start slow. He drove one deep with one mighty stroke, sinking himself to the hilt. Elena screamed and clutched the sheets. “Too much?” he taunted, already pulling back and slamming in again. Too awful. You're going to take every inch of it, you hungry girl. His pace was savage, hard, and deep, without mercy. One hand was balled in her hair; the other clamped down on her hip so hard it had to hurt. Each blow was accompanied by pompous remarks. See how well you are with my c**k. “You’ve been wondering about this all day, haven’t you?” “Yes—” “Louder.” Yes, Damian! He chuckled, low and pleased. "That's right. Say my name as I r**e you in my penthouse that’s worth a million bucks. “Just remember who owns this p***y now.” Elena was out. The vulgarity, the cockiness, the pure dominance – it was too much. She pushed back against him, matching each thrust, seeking another release. Damian reached around and firmly stroked her c**t. “Come again. Now. I want to feel you clutch my cock.” She clutched at him, coming with a broken sob. He followed right behind, moaning her name, filling her up deep inside. They landed on the bed, sweating and all twisted up. For many minutes there was nothing but the sound of them breathing. Then, to her surprise, Damian drew her to his chest. His fingers made lazy patterns on her back. "You'll be staying the night," he told me. It was not a question. Elena wanted to argue. "She did indeed. But her body was boneless and her mind was adrift. “You’re still an asshole,” she murmured into his chest. He laughed, and the sound went all through her. And you are still mine." She didn’t make a correction. Not this night. The night continued in that vein. Slow, teasing touches that turned filthy again in the shower and then in the kitchen when he bent her over the island at 2 a.m. and then again in bed just before dawn. Damian was harsh, proud and insatiable. And Elena was beginning to realise she might be just as awful.