Page 14 of Stalked By the Executive

“Relax, darling,” I murmur. “I want this to be a night you will never forget.”

I straighten and move to pour her a glass of wine, the deep red liquid shimmering in the candlelight.

The meal I have ordered is laid out before us, multiple courses designed to tantalize the senses.

Luscious foods in a symphony of textures and flavors.

I watch, enthralled, as Charlotte takes her first bite.

A delicate moan escapes her lips, and my body tightens in response.

Tonight I will wring more of those sounds from her, again and again until she is screaming my name.

“This is incredible,” she says softly.

I know she does not refer only to the food.

Our connection has always been intoxicating, a drug more potent than the finest wine or any gourmet dish.

“It is merely a taste of the pleasures I wish to give you,” I reply, my voice a low promise.

Her eyes flash up to meet mine, dark with unspoken longing.

“Marcus—”

But she does not continue, and I do not need her to.

Her desire is written on her face, in the parting of her lips and the flutter of her lashes.

Tonight she will be mine, in body as well as soul.

I reach across the table to capture her hand, rubbing my thumb slowly over her knuckles.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” I ask softly.

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and she nods.

“Yes. Very much so.”

My pants feel uncomfortably tight, my cock throbbing with need.

I crave the taste of her, the feel of her soft, warm flesh against my own.

The beast rages, clawing to break free, to claim what is his.

Charlotte shifts in her seat, color rising in her cheeks.

She feels it too, this molten heat and aching hunger.

I lean forward, pinning her in place with my stare.

Her lips part but no sound emerges.

I grasp her chin, tilting her head up.

Her eyes are glassy pools that I could drown in.

And finally, I can take it no longer.

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