The devil CEO's Obsession ( Craving his touch)

My eyes were blindfolded, and my hands were tied to the bed. I felt his hands gliding over my body, a delicious tension coiling in my stomach as pleasure began to rise. My back arched against the sheets, my senses consumed by him. Then, his fingers brushed against me, sliding inside me and I gasped, my lips parting as I moaned my boss’s name loudly. Lorenzo ahhh… The shock hit me immediately, I snapped my eyes open. Horror froze me for a moment. Calen wasn’t in bed. Relief washed over me, yet it was tangled with embarrassment. How was I supposed to explain moaning and dreaming about my boss? My mind swirled with shame and longing. I swung my legs over the bed and made my way to the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, hair slightly tousled, skin flushed, eyes wide with the lingering thrill of my dream. When had I last felt a man’s touch for real? The memory escaped me, and frustration bubbled in my chest like a storm. I sighed, my gaze dropping lower. I was wet, dripping with desire. If only Calen would bend me over that table and take me right here, right now… The thought made me groan in frustration, my fingers clenching. Of course, he would refuse. My thoughts spiraled further. How could I bring this up to Calen? Our marriage was approaching fast, yet our intimacy barely clung to life by a fragile thread. Fuck… if there even was a s*x life left to speak of. I exhaled sharply, running my hands through my hair as I tried to steady myself. Shaking off the heat and frustration, I hurried to the bathroom to bathe and prepare. Today, I was heading on a three-day business trip with my boss, and I needed to get myself together. After a quick shower and dressing, I hurried downstairs with my suitcase. Calen was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with that calm, morning ease that somehow always made my heart ache. “Good morning, babe,” I greeted him, offering a small smile. He nodded, eyes briefly meeting mine. “Good morning. Come eat, I made pancakes.” He plated some for me and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me and did the same for himself. I grabbed a pancake and started eating in a rush, stealing a few sips of coffee before it burned my fingers. I nearly dropped it. “Babe,” I said, swallowing quickly, “when I get back, I’d like us to talk… about us.” Calen raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering across his face. “What about us?” I smiled softly, brushing off the tension. “Not now,” I said. “I just think there are things we could try to… boost our relationship. Let’s talk when I get back. I’ll book a reservation. Promise me you’ll listen.” “Alright,” he said, a small nod confirming his agreement. He opened his arms, and I stepped into them, letting him hug me tightly and press a gentle kiss to my hair. “Go now before you miss your flight. Stay safe, and make sure you have fun.” I returned his smile, brushing my lips against his cheek before waving goodbye. I grabbed the half-eaten pancake and stuffed it into my mouth. Calen chuckled quietly, shaking his head, before returning to his tea and phone. I soon found myself in a taxi, speeding toward the airport. “Please, can you hurry? I’m running late!” I called, glancing at my watch. The driver groaned. “You can come drive the car yourself if you wany or You can as well come down if you won't let me drive in peace” the driver said in irritation. I gritted my teeth. “Oh my God! Just f*****g step on the pedal!” “If you had left on time, maybe you wouldn’t be in such a rush. I’m not driving you again, come down and pay me!” The brakes slammed suddenly, jerking me forward. “What? Are you joking? How am I supposed to get another taxi from here?” I asked, panic rising. “I’m not coming down. You must get me to the airport.” “Not my problem, lady. I’ve got all day, but I’m not sure you can afford to dawdle,” he snapped. I threw my hands up, frustration boiling over. “My God…” I muttered under my breath, glancing everywhere at once. “Please, I promise I’ll never complain about your driving again. Just take me to the airport, please.” The driver sighed and finally pressed the pedal. Relief washed over me… until my phone rang. “f**k… f**k, f**k!” I hissed, answering immediately. “I’m sorry, sir! I’ll be there soon!” The line went dead, leaving me biting my fingers, tapping my legs, and trying not to hyperventilate. Once at the airport, I climbed out of the taxi and handed him the fare, grumbling silently under my breath. “Excuse me! Out of my way!” I shouted at a man blocking my path, barreling toward the private terminal. “Finally, you decided to grace us with your presence Miss Caldwell,” a familiar voice greeted me. My breath caught. Mr. Lorenzo Cross, the devil of Silverton, stood there, his violet eyes piercing as if they could strip me bare. Broad shoulders, chiseled jawline, stoic expression… the man radiated danger, power, and temptation. “I’m so sorry, sir. The traffic was terrible. It won’t happen again.” My voice came out shaky, almost a moan, and I cringed, swallowing the heat threatening to rise from simply looking at him. He studied me, unreadable, before finally nodding and stepping onto the plane. I exhaled, relief mingled with lingering tension, and followed quietly, choosing a seat far from him. One glance from him, though, and I found myself shifting directly in front of him, glasses perched on my nose as I pretended to focus on my laptop. “Are you not going to hand me the documents we need for this trip so I can sign them?” he asked, tone measured, calm, yet impossible to ignore. “Oh—oh, I’m sorry, sir.” My cheeks flushed, and I felt my hands tremble slightly. What was wrong with me this morning? I fumbled with my small laptop bag, bringing out files and the laptop, handing some to him while typing quickly to catch up. Gradually, work absorbed me, and the morning’s awkward tension faded. “Sir, ma’am, the plane will be landing soon. Please fasten your seatbelts,” the stewardess announced. I packed away files as quickly as possible, strapping myself in and preparing for the descent. We spent the flight immersed in paperwork, signing, reviewing, filing. Hours slipped by, yet there was still more to do. I let out a soft sigh, leaning back in my seat, craving a brief respite. Upon landing, we drove together to the hotel. I handled the room check-in with the receptionist, as I had made the reservation. I opened Mr. Cross’s room and ensured everything was perfectly in place before handing over the key. “When you’re done settling in, come back so we can review the remaining documents in my room,” he instructed. “Yes, sir,” I replied. He nodded and disappeared into his room, leaving me to finally exhale the tension I’d been holding since stepping onto the plane.