Read Online His Every Desire: The Billionaire's Assistant (Billionaire BDSM Domination Erotica) by Chloe Cassidy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chloe Cassidy
Tags: S/M, BDSM, fifty shades, submission, Billionaire, billionaire erotica, billionaire sex, bdsm sex, BDSM & Fetish, billionaire domination, billionaire erotic, billionaire fetish
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set already.
"Mark was asking about you," Cassie said.
"Mark? Mark who stole my virginity at your birthday
party and never called again?" My voice grew loud and
indignant.
"He said he lost your number, so I gave it to him. I
didn't think you would mind."
"Tell him to lose it again. I didn't even come close
to having an orgasm," I said. "Do you think all guys are as lousy
at sex as Mark?"
"I'm pretty sure that's the case." Cassie sighed. "I
think hot sex only exists in books and movies."
"That sucks. If that's true, I'm going to become one
of those born-again virgins," I said. "Anyway, if Mark was
interested in me, he would have managed not to lose my number
before he called me."
"I don't know," Cassie said. "He sounded serious. I
think he really likes you."
"I don't like him," I hissed. "You shouldn't have
given him my number. When he doesn't call again, I'm going to be
really pissed."
"If you didn't like him, you wouldn't have had sex
with him on my bed," Cassie protested. "I couldn't sleep in that
bed for a week. Your pussy stained the sheets."
"Don't exaggerate, Cassie. My pussy most assuredly
did not stain the sheets. Your sheets were already stained. I swear
you haven't changed them since high school, and that was four years
ago."
"Okay, let's change the subject. How's the job
going?" she asked.
"I'm not wearing any underwear," I whispered.
"Are you a phone sex operator now?" Cassie
laughed.
"No," I said quietly. "I didn't have any clean
underwear this morning, so I washed a pair of nylon panties in the
sink and dried them in the microwave." I let out a giggle. "They
melted."
Cassie broke into a fit of laughter. I laughed along
with her until I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. There
was a man standing there. From his cheap suit, I knew that it
couldn't possibly be the great hedge-fund billionaire Taylor
Greene. I had never met the man whose name graced the sign on the
building. From his reputation, I knew that he was tall, dark and
handsome. He was a ladies man who used women like tissue paper.
This man in front of me didn't look like he got that much
pussy.
"Hang on, Cassie," I said into the phone. I turned to
the man who had interrupted my conversation. "Can I help you?" I
asked coolly.
"Is that a personal call?" asked the man in the cheap
suit.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Harry Smith," he replied. He looked at me
expectantly.
"Harry," I said slowly, "Smith." I stared off into
the distance for a moment, letting my eyes drift up and to the
left. "No," I said. "That's not the name on the top of the building
or the bottom of my paychecks."
His eyes slanted into angry slits. To his credit, he
kept his cool. I decided to put my underwear snafu to good use,
opening and closing my legs like Sharon Stone in "Basic Instinct."
He didn't even lower his squinted eyes to my pussy. Maybe he was
gay. There's nothing wrong with that, but it meant my best Sharon
Stone impression wasn't going to get him off my back. That was a
shame. I closed my legs.
In my wild imagination, I thought perhaps Mr. Cheap
Suit and Mr. Hedge-Fund Billionaire could be lovers. I pictured the
blue polyester suit in front of me and a $22,000 Ermenegildo Zegna
suit crumpled together on the floor of Taylor Greene's immense
mahogany paneled office.
"Are you on drugs?" Harry Smith asked me,
interrupting my deep thoughts.
"What was it that you wanted?" I asked. Cassie was
still holding on the line. Her voice giggled in my ear as I turned
my attention to this nuisance.
"I left you a stack of signed documents along with
explicit instructions on where they were to be sent. I need to know
whether you successfully completed that simple task," Harry Smith
said.
"Yes, of course. If you will excuse me, I need to get
back to an important phone call." I actually had the nerve to swing
my chair away from him to face in the opposite
"Mark was asking about you," Cassie said.
"Mark? Mark who stole my virginity at your birthday
party and never called again?" My voice grew loud and
indignant.
"He said he lost your number, so I gave it to him. I
didn't think you would mind."
"Tell him to lose it again. I didn't even come close
to having an orgasm," I said. "Do you think all guys are as lousy
at sex as Mark?"
"I'm pretty sure that's the case." Cassie sighed. "I
think hot sex only exists in books and movies."
"That sucks. If that's true, I'm going to become one
of those born-again virgins," I said. "Anyway, if Mark was
interested in me, he would have managed not to lose my number
before he called me."
"I don't know," Cassie said. "He sounded serious. I
think he really likes you."
"I don't like him," I hissed. "You shouldn't have
given him my number. When he doesn't call again, I'm going to be
really pissed."
"If you didn't like him, you wouldn't have had sex
with him on my bed," Cassie protested. "I couldn't sleep in that
bed for a week. Your pussy stained the sheets."
"Don't exaggerate, Cassie. My pussy most assuredly
did not stain the sheets. Your sheets were already stained. I swear
you haven't changed them since high school, and that was four years
ago."
"Okay, let's change the subject. How's the job
going?" she asked.
"I'm not wearing any underwear," I whispered.
"Are you a phone sex operator now?" Cassie
laughed.
"No," I said quietly. "I didn't have any clean
underwear this morning, so I washed a pair of nylon panties in the
sink and dried them in the microwave." I let out a giggle. "They
melted."
Cassie broke into a fit of laughter. I laughed along
with her until I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. There
was a man standing there. From his cheap suit, I knew that it
couldn't possibly be the great hedge-fund billionaire Taylor
Greene. I had never met the man whose name graced the sign on the
building. From his reputation, I knew that he was tall, dark and
handsome. He was a ladies man who used women like tissue paper.
This man in front of me didn't look like he got that much
pussy.
"Hang on, Cassie," I said into the phone. I turned to
the man who had interrupted my conversation. "Can I help you?" I
asked coolly.
"Is that a personal call?" asked the man in the cheap
suit.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Harry Smith," he replied. He looked at me
expectantly.
"Harry," I said slowly, "Smith." I stared off into
the distance for a moment, letting my eyes drift up and to the
left. "No," I said. "That's not the name on the top of the building
or the bottom of my paychecks."
His eyes slanted into angry slits. To his credit, he
kept his cool. I decided to put my underwear snafu to good use,
opening and closing my legs like Sharon Stone in "Basic Instinct."
He didn't even lower his squinted eyes to my pussy. Maybe he was
gay. There's nothing wrong with that, but it meant my best Sharon
Stone impression wasn't going to get him off my back. That was a
shame. I closed my legs.
In my wild imagination, I thought perhaps Mr. Cheap
Suit and Mr. Hedge-Fund Billionaire could be lovers. I pictured the
blue polyester suit in front of me and a $22,000 Ermenegildo Zegna
suit crumpled together on the floor of Taylor Greene's immense
mahogany paneled office.
"Are you on drugs?" Harry Smith asked me,
interrupting my deep thoughts.
"What was it that you wanted?" I asked. Cassie was
still holding on the line. Her voice giggled in my ear as I turned
my attention to this nuisance.
"I left you a stack of signed documents along with
explicit instructions on where they were to be sent. I need to know
whether you successfully completed that simple task," Harry Smith
said.
"Yes, of course. If you will excuse me, I need to get
back to an important phone call." I actually had the nerve to swing
my chair away from him to face in the opposite
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