Chapter 54: Confession No. 36– Executive Privileges
Amaya West hadn’t been inside the building for more than three days, but she already knew two things:
Her boss, Roman Vale, never smiled.
He watched her.
Not in the overt, leering way she was used to. No. Roman’s eyes were clinical. Calculating. And somehow hotter than sin.
He rarely spoke. When he did, his words were clipped and cold, delivered in a tone that made her pulse flutter and her thighs clench.
He moved like a man who owned the world and had no intention of apologizing for it.
Amaya was assigned as his personal assistant by accident a scheduling mess up that HR claimed they’d fix "by Monday." It was Thursday. Roman hadn’t said a word about the switch. He simply handed her files, delivered curt commands, and occasionally looked at her like she was an unsolved equation.
But today, something shifted.
He called her into his private office at 8:57 AM.
“Close the door,” he said, without glancing up from his laptop.
She obeyed. Click.
He didn’t speak again for several heartbeats. Just typed. Then finally, he looked up.
She was still holding her tablet against her chest.
“Do you know why I haven’t had you replaced yet?”
“No, sir.”
“I like watching you work.”
Her stomach flipped.
“You don’t flinch when I give orders. You don’t babble. And you follow directions.”
She swallowed.
He stood.
“I value obedience, Amaya.”
She couldn’t breathe. The space between them thickened. Her nipples tightened beneath her silk blouse. The air conditioner hummed.
“Would you like to know what else I value?” he asked, walking slowly around his desk.
She nodded.
He stopped a foot in front of her.
“Discretion. Loyalty. And the ability to say 'yes' without knowing what comes next.”
She should’ve said something. Anything. But her mouth was dry, and her heart beat between her legs.
He reached out and took the tablet from her hands.
Then, gently, deliberately, he pressed a button.
The blinds closed.
The door locked.
And Roman Vale set the tablet on the desk like it was irrelevant now.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he said softly.
She did.
He stepped closer, pressing into her space. His hand ghosted her jaw, tilting her face upward.
“I’ll only ask once,” he murmured. “Do you want to play my game?”
Her lips parted.
“Yes.”
His mouth was fire when it met hers.
No preamble. No tease. Just dominance. He kissed like a man who didn’t need to ask twice, who took what he wanted and expected you to be grateful.
Amaya moaned as he backed her into the edge of his desk.
He spun her. Bent her forward. Her palms hit the cool glass.
She gasped as his hands slid up her skirt.
“No panties,” he murmured, pleased.
“I, I wasn’t expecting”
“You’re always mine to expect.”
His fingers teased her folds. Dipped inside.
Two. Deep.
She cried out, pressing back.
He slapped her ass once, firm and sharp.
“Patience. Let me study you.”
She whimpered as he curled his fingers, massaging her from within while his thumb toyed with her clit.
He brought her to the edge. Stopped.
Did it again.
And again.
By the fourth denial, she was panting, sweating, begging.
“Please, Roman”
“Mr. Vale,” he corrected.
“Please, Mr. Vale”
He turned her back around. Unzipped his trousers.
And without breaking eye contact, he lifted her onto the desk and slid inside her.
She screamed.
He didn’t move at first. Just held her there. Deep. Full.
“You’re mine, Amaya.”
Then he moved.
Every thrust was controlled. Punishing. Reverent.
His grip on her thighs bruised. Her back arched off the glass, eyes rolling back. She felt split open, possessed, adored in the most ruthless way.
“I bet you’ve fantasized about this,” he growled into her ear.
She nodded wildly.
“I see the way you bite your lip in meetings. You want to be ruined.”
“I do,” she gasped.
“Then take it.”
He flipped her onto her stomach, her face pressed to the desk. One hand on the small of her back, the other tangled in her hair.
“Stay still.”
She moaned as he reentered her, deeper now. Unrelenting. Her nails scratched the glass as he pounded into her, steady and merciless.
Sweat beaded at the back of her neck. Her cries echoed off marble and chrome.
And then he stilled.
Pulled out.
“Get on your knees.”
She obeyed instantly, kneeling in front of him, mascara smudged, mouth parted.
He guided her to his cock. She took him in deep, gagging slightly but not stopping. Her eyes held his the whole time.
He hissed through his teeth, fisting her hair.
“You’re going to be my favorite mistake.”
She moaned around him.
When he came, it was with a grunt so primal it vibrated through her bones.
He tucked himself back in, adjusted his cuffs.
Amaya still knelt, dazed, glowing.
Roman leaned down. Whispered against her lips:
“Be at my apartment tonight. 8 p.m. Don’t be late. Don’t wear anything under your coat.”
She swallowed.
“Yes, Mr. Vale.”
He smirked.
“Good girl.”