His After Hours Obsession

Chapter 6

Damian’s private cabin sat high in the mountains, surrounded by dense pine forest and silence. No city lights. No assistants. No glass walls separating us from the rest of the world.

The moment the heavy wooden door closed behind us, he had me against it.

Clothes were ripped away with impatient hands. He lifted me, carried me to the large bed in front of the stone fireplace, and laid me down like he already owned every inch of my body. There was no slow teasing this time. Damian pushed my thighs apart and buried his face between them, licking and sucking until I was shaking and crying out his name. Only when I came hard against his mouth did he rise, strip completely, and thrust into me in one deep stroke.

He f****d me through two more orgasms before he finally allowed himself to finish, spilling deep inside me with a low, broken groan.

Later, wrapped in a thick blanket in front of the fire, I rested my head on his chest while his fingers slowly traced patterns along my bare spine.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

I hesitated. “I’m just… trying to understand what this is.”

Damian’s hand stilled for a moment. Then he tilted my chin up so I was forced to meet his eyes.

“This is me keeping you,” he said simply. “Not just for nights at the office. Not just for weekends. You’re mine, Elena. In every way that matters.”

The words should have scared me. Instead, they settled deep in my chest like something I had been waiting to hear without realizing it.

I leaned up and kissed him, soft at first, then deeper. Damian rolled me beneath him again, already hard, and pushed back inside me with a slow, deliberate thrust that made me gasp against his mouth.

This time he made love to me.

Not roughly. Not possessively. Just deeply, thoroughly, like he was trying to brand the feeling into both of us.

When we finally fell asleep, his arm was locked tightly around my waist, as if even in sleep he refused to let me go.

Monday morning felt different.

We walked into the office together, professional distance carefully restored, but everything underneath had changed. Damian’s eyes found me constantly throughout the day. Every time I entered his office, the air between us thickened with unspoken memory of the weekend—of how many times he had taken me, how many times I had begged for more.

In the late afternoon he called me in under the pretense of reviewing a file.

The moment the door closed, he pulled me into his lap, shoved my skirt up, and pushed inside me while I was still half-standing. I bit down on his shoulder to stay quiet as he f****d me hard and fast in his office chair, one hand clamped over my mouth when I got too loud.

Afterward he cleaned me carefully with a tissue, fixed my clothes, and sent me back to my desk with a single quiet order:

“Stay late tonight.”

I did.

Two weeks later, Damian called me into his office after everyone had left.

He was standing by the window, jacket off, looking more serious than I had ever seen him.

“I want more than this,” he said without preamble. “More than locked doors and stolen hours. I want you in my bed every night. I want your things in my closet. I want the entire company to know that you belong to me.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“And if I say yes?” I asked softly.

Damian walked toward me, cupped my face in both hands, and spoke with absolute certainty.

“Then you’re no longer just my secretary. You’re mine. Completely.”

I stared up at him for a long moment—at the man who had taken control of my body so easily, and somehow my heart along with it.

Then I rose onto my toes and whispered against his lips:

“Yes.”

Three months later, I no longer had my own apartment.

My clothes hung next to his in the large closet of the penthouse. My nameplate on the desk outside his office still read “Executive Secretary,” but everyone in the building knew the truth. Damian made no effort to hide the way he looked at me, the way his hand would rest possessively on my lower back when we walked together, or the fact that I left with him every single night.

One evening, after a long day of meetings, he locked the office door the same way he had that first night and bent me over his desk.

He took me slowly this time, deeply, one hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my hip as he murmured against my ear:

“You’re mine, Elena. My secretary. My woman. My everything.”

I came with his name on my lips, and when he followed, filling me once more, I felt the final piece of the wall around my heart crack open completely.

Later that night, lying in his arms in the dark, Damian pressed a kiss to my forehead and spoke the words I hadn’t realized I needed.

“I’m never letting you go.”

I smiled against his chest, exhausted, claimed, and completely his.

“I know,” I whispered.

And for the first time since the day I walked into his office…

I didn’t want him to.

The End

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