Thirty Days To Ruin

Chapter 8: Back to Work

Elena woke the next morning to the low sound of Alexander’s voice on a phone call in the other room. She stretched carefully, body still sore and pleasantly aching between her thighs. When he returned he was already dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, the cold CEO mask firmly back in place—except for the way his eyes dragged over her naked form under the sheets.

“You’re going into the office today,” he said without preamble.

She blinked. “I thought you wanted me here.”

“I do.” He sat on the edge of the bed and cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip. “But people will talk if my newest paralegal disappears the day after I acquire the firm. You’re going in. You’re going to sit at your desk. You’re going to do your work. And every time you shift in your chair, you’re going to feel exactly what I left inside you last night.”

Elena’s cheeks heated. “Alexander—”

“Sir,” he corrected softly. “At the office you call me Mr. Blackwood in front of anyone else. In private you call me whatever I tell you to. Clear?”

“Clear… Sir.”

A dark smile touched his mouth. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, thoroughly, until she was breathless. When he pulled back he spoke against her lips.

“Wear the black dress I laid out. No panties. I want to know you’re bare under that skirt the entire day. If I call you into my office, you come immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

---

The law firm buzzed with the usual Monday energy, but the air felt different now that Alexander Blackwood owned it. Elena sat at her desk in the open paralegal bay, the black dress clinging to her curves, the cool air of the office brushing against her bare p***y every time she crossed or uncrossed her legs. She could still feel the faint, sticky reminder of him between her thighs.

Around mid-morning her desk phone rang.

“Ms. Voss,” Alexander’s voice came through, low and controlled. “My office. Now.”

She rose on slightly unsteady legs and walked the length of the floor under the curious eyes of a few coworkers. His corner office was all glass and dark wood. He sat behind the massive desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the cold, untouchable CEO.

The moment the door clicked shut he stood.

“Lock it.”

Elena turned the lock. When she faced him again he was already crossing the room. He backed her against the door, one hand bracing beside her head, the other sliding up under her dress without warning. Two fingers found her bare, still-swollen folds and pushed inside.

She gasped.

“Quiet,” he murmured against her ear. “The walls aren’t that thick.”

His fingers worked her slowly, curling, the wet sound soft but unmistakable in the quiet office. Elena bit her lip hard to keep from moaning.

“You’re still wet for me,” he said. “Even here. Even with all those people just outside. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” she whispered.

“Louder.”

“You, Sir. I belong to you.”

He added a third finger, stretching her, the pressure perfect and filthy. His thumb found her c**t and rubbed tight circles while his fingers thrust in a steady rhythm. Elena’s hands clutched at his shirt. Her thighs started to shake.

“Don’t come,” he ordered. “Not yet.”

She whimpered, fighting the rising pleasure. He kept her right on the edge for long, torturous minutes, the wet sounds of his fingers moving inside her the only noise in the room. Then he pulled his hand free, brought his glistening fingers to her mouth, and pushed them between her lips.

“Clean them.”

She sucked obediently, tasting herself and the faint salt of him from the night before. When he was satisfied he stepped back, adjusted his cuffs, and returned to his desk as if nothing had happened.

“You’re dismissed, Ms. Voss. Get back to work. And Elena—” His eyes lifted, cold and heated at once. “Tonight I’m taking you home and spreading you open on my desk at the penthouse. I want you thinking about that every time you sit down for the rest of the day.”

She managed a shaky “Yes, Sir” and left his office on unsteady legs, the imprint of his fingers still throbbing between her thighs.

---

The rest of the day passed in a haze of case files and stolen glances. Every time Elena shifted in her chair she felt the cool air against her bare skin and the lingering ache of how thoroughly he had used her. Around three o’clock he walked past her desk on the way to a meeting. He didn’t stop, didn’t speak, but the brief brush of his fingers against the back of her neck as he passed made her breath catch.

When the office finally emptied for the evening, her phone rang one last time.

“My car is downstairs,” Alexander said. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Elena gathered her things and rode the elevator down, heart already racing. The moment she slid into the back seat of the black town car he pulled her across his lap, one hand sliding under her dress again, fingers finding her soaked and ready.

“Good girl,” he murmured against her hair as the car pulled into traffic. “You spent the whole day bare and aching for me just like I told you. Tonight I’m going to reward that obedience… and then I’m going to remind you exactly who owns this body, even when you’re sitting at a desk with my name on the building.”

His fingers pushed inside her right there in the moving car, slow and deep, the wet sound muffled by the leather seats and the city noise outside.

Elena closed her eyes and let herself fall into the possession he offered, the ticking clock of her diagnosis temporarily forgotten under the weight of his hands and the promise of what waited for them at the penthouse.