Matt's POV
"I told you I want to be your sl*t. I want you to own me, I'll s*ck your c*ck. You can f*ck me, you can spank me, and I'll wear whatever you want me to wear. I'll make you c*m whenever you want me to. You can cuff me and leash me and f*ck my t*ts or my *ss, or even my p*ssy. I want your beautiful c*ck as often as I can have it. I want to be your s*x slave, baby."
Giovana Barbosa, one of the top Brazilian runway models, practically moaned these words into my ear after getting off her knees with the taste of my c*m still in her mouth. I had given my c*ck to this lady to s*ck right here in my office, and now, she's begging to be one of my many s*x toys.
I pushed her away from me enough to reach down and pull my pants and buckle them. I looked into her eyes and smirked. "Then that's what you're going to be, Giovana."
I took her by the shoulders and turned her around, pressing my body against her and circling her with my arms. I reached up and cupped her full breasts, brushing my thumbs back and forth across her n*ppl*s. Her moans started again as she began squirming and grinding her *ss back against my c*ck.
I knew multiple women were eager and ready to fulfil all my sexual fantasies, and I was determined to take advantage of all their offers in every way I could.
"Put your hands on top of your head, Giovana," I ordered.
She complied with no hesitation. I tweaked and pinched her erect n*ppl*s as she continued to grind against me. I moved my hand down between her legs and found the lips of her p*ssy, rubbing them up and down, feeling how wet she was by how easily her p*ssy lips moved under my finger.
Her moans turned to panting as she squirmed under my touch, but I wasn't going to let her c*m yet.
"Are you going to be my sl*t, Giovana?" I asked her.
"Yes, Matt," she replied as she continued moaning.
"Do you want my c*ck again, baby?" I asked her.
"Yes, please... I want your c*ck again," she whispered as she panted.
"There's not enough time right now, Giovana," I smiled. "But you're going to meet me at my penthouse this evening. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Matt," she moaned. "I'll be there."
"Good girl," I smirked as I spanked her *ss. "Now, leave."
She blows me a kiss and walks out of my office.
---
The sharp ring of my desk phone pulled me from my thoughts. I exhaled slowly, inching the bridge of my nose before reaching for the receiver.
"This is Matt," I said, already knowing who it was.
"Sir," my secretary's crisp voice came through. "Just reminding you that you have a meeting in thirty minutes with the investors from London. Conference Room A."
I glanced at the sleek, silver watch wrapped around my wrist. Right. The meeting.
"Got it, Evelyn. Anything else?"
"Yes, sir," she said. "Your schedule is tight today, but there's a last-minute interview added to your hiring roster. A candidate for the assistant coordinator position. HR insists it's urgent."
I frowned. I didn't personally handle interviews unless it was for senior executive positions. This was a mid-level role, something HR could have easily dealt with.
"Why is it urgent?"
"I believe it's an internal recommendation, but HR says she's a strong candidate."
I rubbed my jaw, debating whether to pass it off to someone else. But then, I caught sight of my reflection in the glass wall of my office. It wasn't like I had anything better to do. Work was what I knew... that and pleasures of the body.
"Fine," I said. "Have them send a file to my desk. I'll see her after the meeting."
"Understood, sir."
I ended the call and leaned back in my chair, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that had been building there all day. The past week had been exhausting with meetings, acquisitions, long hours spent in negotiations. I had built an empire from the ground up, taking the foundation my father left and molding it into something greater. But no matter how much success I achieved, there was always an emptiness lingering beneath the surface.
I shook my head, brushing away the thought. Regret was a useless emotion.
---
The moment I stepped into Conference Room A, the familiar voices of people discussing numbers and charts flickering across the massive screen at the far end of the room filled the air, with investors waiting expectantly.
I straightened my tie and walked in with confidence, offering nods of acknowledgment as I took my seat at the head of the long, glass conference table.
"Let's begin," I said, my tone sharp and my focus locked in place.
The financial director launched into the first presentation, discussing our expansion into the London market. As the meeting progressed, numbers and figures flashed across the screen, projections, profitability models, and investment strategies. It was information I should have been analyzing, dissecting, calculating.
But instead, my attention drifted.
Across the hallway, through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the adjacent office space, someone caught my eye.
A woman.
At first, it was nothing, just a passing glance. She was seated at a desk, flipping through some paperwork, her long blonde hair falling over one shoulder. Something about the way she carried herself pulled me in. I told myself to look away, to focus back on the discussion, but my eyes refused to obey.
There was something about her...
Then, just as I was about to tear my gaze away, she moved.
Her head turned slightly, her eyes lifting from the papers for a brief moment.
And that was when I saw her face.
My breath caught in my throat.
Racheal.
I felt the world tilt beneath me, the air knocked from my lungs as if I had taken a hit straight to the chest. She looked different, but not so much that I wouldn't recognize her anywhere. Her face had matured, her features sharper, but those deep brown eyes that I had once memorized under the stars... they were the same.
What the hell was she doing here?
I had spent years trying to forget her, trying to bury the guilt and regret beneath layers of business deals, success, and distractions. Women, money, and power. Anything to drown out the hollow ache that losing her had left behind.
And now, she was sitting less than twenty feet away.
I clenched my jaw, forcing my focus back onto the meeting. The last thing I needed was my investors seeing me rattled over a woman, especially one from my past.
"Mr. Sterling?" one of the investors prompted.
I blinked, shifting my attention back to the present. "Repeat the question."