Secretly Claimed By the Billionaire CEO

Arrogant Possession

The rest of the day dragged like torture.

Elena sat through two strategy meetings, a team lunch, and an endless presentation on brand positioning, all while trying desperately not to squirm in her seat. Every time she crossed her legs, she felt the lingering ache from Damian’s fingers and mouth. Every time her phone buzzed, her stomach flipped.

But he didn’t text her again. Not once.

By 6:30 p.m., she was equal parts furious and frustrated. Arrogant prick. Uses me like a toy in his office and then ghosts me the rest of the day.

She was packing her bag when her phone finally lit up.

Damian: My driver is outside. Get in the car.

Elena: I’m not your property.

Damian: You are tonight. Don’t make me come down there and drag you out myself.

She hated how much that threat turned her on.

The black Mercedes was waiting exactly where he said it would be. The driver didn’t speak, just nodded politely and pulled into traffic. Twenty minutes later, they were gliding into the private underground garage of the most exclusive residential tower in Manhattan.

Elena’s heart hammered as the elevator rose. When the doors opened directly into a sprawling penthouse, she almost forgot how to breathe.

Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the entire space. Modern art on the walls. A grand piano in one corner. A kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine. And there, leaning against the marble island with a glass of whiskey in his hand, was Damian Sterling.

He’d changed into a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. His hair was still perfectly styled, but his eyes looked darker. Hungrier.

“Took you long enough,” he said without greeting. His tone was clipped, rude. “I don’t like waiting, Elena.”

“You could’ve said please,” she shot back, dropping her bag on the nearest couch.

He laughed — a short, arrogant sound. “Please? Sweetheart, I own this building. I own the company you work for. I own the air you’re breathing right now.” He took a slow sip of whiskey, eyes raking over her body. “The only thing I don’t own yet is that smart mouth of yours. But I will.”

Elena’s cheeks burned. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re overdressed.” He set the glass down and crooked a finger. “Come here.”

She stayed where she was, arms crossed.

Damian’s expression hardened. In three long strides, he crossed the room, grabbed her by the waist, and yanked her against him. “When I tell you to come, you come. Understand?”

His mouth crashed down on hers before she could answer. The kiss was punishing — all teeth and dominance. He tasted like expensive whiskey and raw power. Elena hated how quickly she melted into it.

He pulled back just enough to speak against her lips. “Strip. Slowly. I want to watch.”

“Here?”

“Yes, here. In my living room. Like the little secret slut you are for me.”

The crude words sent a shameful thrill through her. She started unbuttoning her blouse with trembling fingers. He watched like a king observing his newest possession, leaning back against the island again, eyes never leaving her.

When she stood in nothing but her black lace bra and matching panties, he made a low sound of approval.

“Better. Now turn around. Hands on the glass.”

Elena walked to the massive window overlooking the glittering city. The glass was cool against her palms. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and ridiculously turned on. Anyone with a telescope could see her like this.

Damian came up behind her. His fully clothed body pressed against her nearly naked one. One hand slid into her panties, finding her soaked.

“Look at you,” he murmured, arrogant satisfaction dripping from every word. “Already dripping down your thighs for a man who barely spoke to you all day. Pathetic.”

“f**k you,” she gasped as he circled her c**t with lazy precision.

He laughed darkly and slapped her ass hard enough to make her yelp. “Watch your mouth. Or I’ll f**k it instead.”

He pushed two fingers inside her without warning, curling them roughly. Elena moaned, forehead pressed to the glass.

“That’s it,” he taunted. “Moan for me. Let the whole city hear what a desperate little intern you are.”

His fingers moved faster, thumb working her c**t. Every time she got close, he slowed down or pulled away completely, chuckling at her frustrated whimpers.

“Damian, please—”

“Please what?” He bit down on her shoulder. “Use your words like a big girl.”

“I need to come.”

“Beg nicer.”

“You arrogant bastard,” she hissed.

He slapped her ass again, harder this time. “Try again.”

“Please, Damian… I need it. Please let me come.”

“Good girl.”

He finally gave her what she wanted, f*****g her with his fingers until she shattered against the window, crying out his name. Her legs shook so badly that he had to hold her up.

Before she could recover, he spun her around and lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried her through the penthouse like she weighed nothing.

His bedroom was enormous — dominated by a massive king bed with black silk sheets. He dropped her onto it unceremoniously.

“On your hands and knees.”

Elena obeyed, still breathing hard. She heard his belt buckle and the rustle of his clothes. Then the bed dipped behind her.

He ran a hand down her spine possessively. “Such a perfect ass. Made for me to ruin.”

He didn’t ease in. He thrust deep in one powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Elena cried out, gripping the sheets.

“Too much?” he asked mockingly, already pulling back and slamming in again. “Too bad. You’ll take every inch like the greedy girl you are.”

He set a brutal pace — hard, deep, unrelenting. One hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. Every thrust came with arrogant commentary.

“Look at you taking my c**k so well. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”

“Yes—”

“Louder.”

“Yes, Damian!”

He laughed, low and satisfied. “That’s right. Say my name while I f**k you in my million-dollar penthouse. Remind yourself who owns this p***y now.”

Elena was lost. The filth, the arrogance, the sheer dominance — it was overwhelming. She pushed back against him, meeting every thrust, chasing another release.

Damian reached around and rubbed her c**t roughly. “Come again. Now. I want to feel you squeeze my cock.”

She came with a broken sob, clenching around him. He followed right after, groaning her name as he spilled deep inside her.

They collapsed onto the bed, sweaty and tangled. For a few long minutes, the only sound was their breathing.

Then Damian pulled her against his chest, surprisingly gentle. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her back.

“You’re staying the night,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Elena wanted to argue. She really did. But her body was boneless and her mind was floating.

“You’re still an asshole,” she mumbled against his chest.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. “And you’re still mine.”

She didn’t correct him.

Not tonight.

The night stretched on with more of the same — slow, teasing touches that turned filthy again in the shower, then in the kitchen when he bent her over the island at 2 a.m., then once more in bed just before dawn.

Damian was rude, arrogant, and completely insatiable.

And Elena was starting to realize she might be just as bad.