Erotic Billionaire 3(2)
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 and got straight to the point. “You’ve been selected for a final interview for this position,” she said, “and I am authorized to tell you the rest of the requirements for this position, and finally, the compensation schedule.” She took a deep breath. “This is a really unusual job. It will require you to work in close proximity to males for extended periods of time, and there will be some lack of privacy at times…it can’t be helped. We are deeply involved with the U.S. Defense industry, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what a cutthroat business this is. By its very nature, our business has to remain secret…one slip of the tongue can literally give away billions of dollars in revenue.”
For all the fact that Sylvia insisted on getting directly at the meat of their subject, Sylvia seemed to be hedging a bit, tiptoeing around something she was not comfortable with. Celine decided to risk a humorous question to try to lighten the atmosphere…she decided to risk it because Sylvia’s sudden reluctance to get on with it was giving her the first doubts about what she was getting into. “Who do I have to kill?” she asked with a smile.
Sylvia was thrown off stride by the question. “Well, we hope it won’t come to that, but you could conceivably be placed in that position as a last ditch effort to protect your principal,” she was told. “I’m sorry,” Sylvia said, “Would that be a problem for you?”
“No,” Celine answered calmly, “as you are aware, my father is a career police officer, and I understand about security, I just was not aware that this was a security job.”
“Oh, it’s not,” Sylvia said, “I mentioned that it was a last ditch possibility, and it is.” She sipped the delicious coffee. And Celine felt comfortable following her lead.