Page 10 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

I take his finger into my mouth, swallowing the most expensive cum I’ll ever taste in my life. Every woman in the world would kill to be in my position, and as the moment passes, I even envy myself, wanting to do it all over again.

Still, I pick myself up from the desk. The moment has passed, and now it’s my time to collect my purse from the meeting room and hand in my resignation, putting a stop to this nonsense before it can really begin.

Because there’s no going back once you’ve bent over your boss’s desk, and Mr. Moretti is an addiction I’ll never be able to get my fill of, unless I physically never see him again…

But when I turn around to look at him, the world tilts on its axis. The defined muscles were expected, since I can always see them through his shirt, but the huge tattoo embellished across his chest was not expected at all.

A black crow covers his chest, the wings outstretched, designed to look like the crow is in flight.

Although the tattoo is faded, the shape is clear. That’s definitely a crow.

Time stops, my breathing amplified in my own ears as I remember what my mother told me before she passed.

But being told to stay away from the “crows” only makes me want to take a step closer, now I realize she was actually giving me a warning.

Who the fuck are the crows? And why does this city’s most powerful billionaire have a tattoo of one inked across his chest?

Then again, maybe it’s just a coincidence.

A very strange one.

2

SALVATORE

If Ophelia continues staring at me with those wide, steel-blue eyes, I’ll have no choice but to throw her over my desk again.

My cock stirs at the thought, already eager for a second round, not two minutes after I finished deep in her pussy. I want her walking around my office all day, my cum dripping out of her. Leaving my mark on her is essential. I see the way my employees look at her, stealing glances of her as she walks by, staring at her ass instead of the actual work in front of them.

“Are you okay, Miss Bennett?” I ask, securing cufflinks to my sleeves.

“Yeah,” she says, shaking out of her trance.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” I say, winking. “That means you can take me again. Shall we do same time tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Ophelia points out.

“Ah, yes, indeed. How about Monday?”

Ophelia opens and closes her mouth, thinking about it. If she continues thinking about it, I’ll shove my cock in her mouth.

That would be a very pretty sight.

I underestimated Ophelia at first. Her fair complexion paints her in an innocent light, her eyes rather timid, but her mouth contradicts the good girl facade she sometimes has going on. She knows how to speak, how to use her mouth to her advantage.

“Don’t you have that meeting with Sandra Williamson on Monday?”

“We scrapped it, remember? We have the board meeting instead.”

“Of course,” she says, reverting back to my executive assistant now her clothes are back on. The flowy white blouse compliments her figure, sitting just above her hip bone. There is something very magnetic about Ophelia, something I cannot place.

People are normally easy to read, falling into one of five categories. But Ophelia? She’s a dark horse, always keeping her cards close to her chest, never giving too much away.

“I have places I need to be, sir, and so do you.”