Teach Me How To Burn(A Spicy Erotica Collection)

Chapter 1: Charlie Richmond sat alone in the silence of his large office, with the divorce papers he had just received, on the mahogany desk. The damn thing was still warm from the lawyer’s courier who had delivered the final copies just an hour earlier. Signed. Sealed. Over. Six f*****g years of marriage...gone down the drain. He picked up the thick document, flipping through the pages with a sneer. Every clause was a reminder of her greed, her calculated tears in court, the way she’d tried to strip him of everything he’d built. The alimony demands. The asset splits. The venomous little jabs about his long hours and emotional unavailability. As if she hadn’t spent his money like it was water while spreading her legs for half the country club behind his back. “b***h,” he muttered under his breath, crushing the edge of the paper in his fist before tossing it aside. The marriage had died long before the lawyers got involved, but today made it official. No more pretending. No more shared bed. No more nights where he’d come home exhausted only to find her cold and distant, or worse...faking it. Now there was only emptiness. And that emptiness needed to be filled. Charlie leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie as heat built low in his gut. He was a man who took what he wanted. A billionaire CEO who commanded boardrooms and crushed competitors without blinking. He wasn’t going to waste another second mourning a woman who never deserved him. What he needed was release. Raw, filthy, no-strings release. A new cunt. Tight, eager, and dripping for him. Some hot, willing p***y he could sink his thick c**k into and f**k until the memory of his ex-wife’s face was wiped clean from his mind. He wanted to bury himself balls-deep in a woman who would moan like a w***e, take every brutal thrust, and let him flood her with load after load until his balls were empty and his head was clear. No dates. No conversations. Just pure, animalistic f*****g. Bent over a desk, on her knees, against the wall...wherever the urge struck. He needed to claim someone completely, dominate every inch of her body, and remind himself that he was the one in control. His c**k stirred in his trousers at the thought, already thickening as vivid images flashed through his mind: soft thighs spread wide, a slick, welcoming slit stretched around his girth, desperate gasps turning into screams of pleasure as he pounded away the last traces of his failed marriage. Charlie’s hand drifted down, palming the growing bulge through the fabric. A dark, possessive hunger settled over him. He was done grieving. It was time to hunt. Charlie sat behind his massive desk for several long minutes after ending a business call, staring at the closed door. The restlessness in his blood hadn’t eased. If anything, it had sharpened into something darker, more focused. He pressed the intercom button. “Mirabel. My office. Now.” His voice was calm, but there was a new edge beneath it. A minute later, the door opened quietly. Mirabel Reyes stepped inside, tablet clutched in her hands, her posture as professional as ever. But the woman walking toward him was not the same one he’d seen every day for the past three years. She stopped a respectful distance from his desk, as she always did. “Mr. Richmond,” she said softly, her voice smooth and composed. “You wanted to see me?” Charlie didn’t speak at first. He simply looked. The cream silk blouse hugged her body in a way her usual attire never had. It accentuated the full, heavy swell of her breasts and the narrow dip of her waist. The black pencil skirt was tighter than anything she’d worn before, clinging to the generous curve of her hips and stopping high enough on her thighs to show off smooth, toned legs wrapped in sheer black stockings. Her dark hair, normally pulled into a strict bun, now fell in soft waves past her shoulders. A touch of deep red lipstick made her mouth look fuller, more inviting. She looked like temptation dressed as efficiency. Charlie leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes moving slowly over every inch of her. His c**k gave a heavy twitch in his trousers as he took her in. “You’re dressed differently today,” he finally said, his tone low and deliberate. Mirabel’s cheeks warmed with a faint flush, but she held his gaze. “Yes, sir. I wanted to try something new.” He studied her face. There was something in her eyes, something quiet but unmistakably aware. She knew he was looking. And she wasn’t trying to hide. Charlie stood up slowly, buttoning his suit jacket for a moment before changing his mind and shrugging it off, draping it over the back of his chair. He walked around the desk with measured steps, stopping just a few feet away from her. Close enough to catch the subtle scent of her perfume...warm vanilla and something faintly sweet. The silence stretched between them. “You’ve heard about the divorce,” he said, not as a question. Mirabel nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m… sorry about what you’ve been through.” He gave a low, humorless chuckle. “Don’t be. It’s done.” His eyes dropped briefly to the way her blouse rose and fell with each breath. “But today has left me in a particular mood, Mirabel.” She swallowed visibly. Her fingers tightened slightly around the tablet. Charlie took one step closer. Then another. Until he was standing right in front of her, towering over her smaller frame. He reached out slowly, almost lazily, and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear with his fingers. His touch lingered there, tracing lightly down the side of her neck. Her skin was warm. Soft. “You’ve been an excellent secretary,” he murmured, voice dropping. "You're beautiful, quiet, hardworking and you're always there when I needed you.” His thumb brushed along her jawline. “But I never noticed how f*****g beautiful you are until right now.” Mirabel’s breath hitched. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned the tiniest bit into his touch. “I’ve always been here, Mr. Richmond,” she whispered. The air between them felt thick. Charged. Charlie’s gaze darkened as he looked down at her lips, then lower, tracing the soft cleavage visible at the neckline of her blouse. His hand moved lower, resting lightly on her waist, feeling the curve there through the silk. He was in no rush. He wanted to savor this....the slow realization that the woman who had worked beside him for years had been hiding this body, this quiet hunger, waiting for the right moment. His thumb stroked small circles against her waist as he held her there, studying every expression on her face. “Tell me something, Mirabel... I'm curious..." he said, voice roughening with building lust. “Did you wear this pretty outfit today for me?"