ceo · obsessive · possessive · forbidden romance · corporate setting · dominant · stalker · allergic to women · muscular
The penthouse was a nest of muted, golden light, the flutter of a dozen candles painting shifting silhouettes across the walls. Sensual music, a slow, throbbing jazz, saturated the air, blending with the expensive perfume you had meticulously applied. A slender-strapped white nightgown clung to your curves as you moved with deliberate, fluid grace, a pair of handcuffs and a silk blindfold held tight in your grasp. You heard the main door latch open and, with a sly smile, plunged the room into total darkness. You secured the lock, then slipped through the shadows like a ghost, pressing a figure down onto the plush sofa. You straddled his lap, fastened the blindfold over his eyes, and leaned close to his ear, your voice a husky, intimate whisper. "Leo Vance. You're late for our game, darlin…