Free Erotic Billionaire 3-Pack (The Billionaire's Contract Parts 1-3) by Emma Rose Page A

trotting to keep up with him.  The sexy man stopped at the reception desk and stared at Celine. The harried looking man handed her a business card, scribbling a cell phone number on the back of it. “In case you need to get hold of the boss quickly,” he said with a smirk.
    Celine didn’t look at the card, she coolly evaluated the man standing and staring at her while talking on his iPhone.  The suit was obviously, to her experienced eye, a Brioni that cost as much as her car had cost new.  He wore hand lasted wing tips, and his shirt seemed to be of high thread content Egyptian cotton…the tie looked French and was obviously silk. He had a handkerchief folded and sticking out of his breast pocket that matched the silk tie exactly.  A Breitling chronograph peeked out from beneath one neatly shot French cuff. Not one wavy raven black hair was out of place over his chiseled features, and his steely blue eyes seemed to strip her down to her very bones.
    Celine felt naked as he looked her up and down…but rather than offending her she was oddly pleased.  Carefully she postured for him, thrusting her proud breasts towards him and cocking one hip to accentuate her long, sexy legs.  With a little thrill she wondered if he knew her nipples were rigid. The man turned on his heel and the harried looking man rushed after him. Celine suddenly realized she had been holding her breath, and let it out in a whoosh. Her knees were trembling and her heart was racing as she looked towards the door he had entered. No one had entered that door since she had been hired to work the reception desk five weeks before.
    Sitting down at her desk, Celine glanced down at the business card the harried looking man had handed her. 
    P. Winston Dunn
    CEO, PiezoTec Corporation
    The words were embossed, not printed, on the simple, elegant, and obviously expensive rag based paper.  She had finally met the “Dragon,” as he was known privately and extremely quietly. Everyone seemed to respect him, but there was more than a little fear and awe in their voices when they spoke of him. Celine didn’t fear him at all. The moistness between her legs was unmistakable…she wanted P. Winston Dunn right where the heat was…between her slender thighs.
    Her sleep was fraught with dreams that night. She tossed and turned, finally throwing off the scanty teddie she usually slept in to sleep nude atop the cool cotton sheets of her bed. His self-confidence and his bearing were just as sexy and attractive as his good looks and impeccable clothes…everything about the man seemed to be designed to excite Celine.  She shivered and put her hand to her wet pussy. In moments she was exploding, and she had to stuff her pillow in her mouth to make sure her neighbors couldn’t hear her screams of passion. As she drifted, exhausted, into troubled sleep, she had another thought that sent shivers up her spine. When P. Winston Dunn had stared at her with those steely, icy blue eyes, he was appraising her as if he owned her, had the right to do with her as he pleased. The outraged feminist in her was quickly drowned and submerged inside her. If any man ever owned Celine Powell it would be P. Winston Dunn. Celine was almost purring as she drifted off to sleep.  Deep inside, she knew she was already hooked.  If P. Winston Dunn ordered her to strip off her clothes and blow the janitor for his own pleasure, Celine would gladly do as he told her.
    She was more than a little surprised when she found a note on her desk showing an eight fifteen appointment with Sylvia.  Thoughts of P. Winston Dunn leapt from her mind as she sought to prepare herself for a possible second interview with Sylvia.
    When she entered Sylvia’s office at eight thirteen, the ambiance of the office seemed different somehow.  There was a silver coffee set with the thinnest, most translucent porcelain cups she had ever seen.  Sylvia wasted no time on the trivialities…she poured coffee for them both