Page 1 of Possessive CEO

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ETHAN

Nothing’s gonna keep me from exploring every corner of her inner walls. I want to feel her pink, soft flesh parting around my tongue. I’m gonna pound into her, drive myself home, fill her with my seed, and mark her so she can feel me for days. Give her something that will always, always remind her she’s mine. That she belongs to me.

Just imagining her skin taut with child…our child…makes my loins tighten. Fuck, if only I can…

“Sir? Excuse me, sir?”

My thoughts slam to a halt, and I’m pulled back to the present by the sound of her voice. Jesus Christ. She’s too beautiful to be real. Too fucking beautiful to be working in this small, dingy cafe in the middle of nowhere.

I have to take her away. She deserves more than this. She deserves…everything.

“Sir? May I have your order?” she asks again, eyebrows pinching as she stares at me.

My eyes lock onto her face. High cheekbones. Straight and delicate nose. Heart-shaped face. Full, luscious lips. Lips I can’t wait to taste. Ocean blue eyes. Brown hair tied in a bun, typical barista-style, but would look good wrapped around my fist.

I glance at her name tag. “Emily? One regular black coffee.”

“Name please.”

“Ethan.”

She points to a single seat by the wall. Walls with blue peeling paint with some vintage car plates. What the fuck is that? Was the owner confused if he wanted a cafe or a biker bar? “Please wait until I call your name.”

More like scream it, but I can wait, angel. You have no idea how patient I can be when I want something.Patient but relentless. Unstoppable. Maybe even a little ruthless. But that can be negotiated.

Instead of telling her all these, I nod and stand in the corner, never taking my eyes off her.

Now she starts to feel self-conscious. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and gnaws on her bottom lip before turning around to start preparing my order. As she does so, I grit my teeth when my eyes zero in on that piece of ass. Her pants are so tight, and it takes every ounce of my self-control to not jump over the counter and grab those globes, massage them, and bury my face between them.

Fuck. Dammit.

I’m so hard to the point of pain. In broad daylight. At a cafe.

I take off my coat and sling it over my arm. A pathetic attempt to cover my hard-on. Then again, if anyone sees, who the fuck cares?

But…

I need to get this hunger under control if I want to think of a way to get her to come with me. So I look around and mentally run through everything that needs work. Like I said, the walls need a fresh layer of paint. The floor is not even tiled. It’s grimy and I try to ignore the way it sticks to the sole of my shoe. Guess this pair’s gonna end up in the trash.

The stainless steel tables look mismatched and uneven. Some walls have car plates, others have pipes, which are not connected to anything and serve zero purpose. Almost like the owner wanted an industrial look but didn’t have enough budget to hire someone so he did it himself. Must have spent two weeks at the thrift stores.

“Ethan,” she calls out and I take my time walking toward her. When I grab the cup, I make sure my hands wrap around hers, lingering just a bit too long. Long enough that her eyes widen and she gasps. Long enough that I see goosebumps on her arms.

So I affect her the same way she affects me. Good. Very good.

“Does your shift change, Emily? Or are you here at the same time every day?” I ask, running my thumb along her knuckles.

“Oh, uhm. The same time,” she whispers, blush rising to her cheeks.

“Hmmm.”

“Hey, buddy. You done trying to get in her pants? I need my coffee.”

I turn around so fast I splash some of the coffee to the floor and on the other guy’s shirt front. He looks like one of those who landed a job in a big company and already thinks he’s some hotshot. But I know he’s far from it. He’s most likely still at the bottom rung after years of working to the bone. The ill-fitting suit says enough.

“What the fuck? Look what you did to my shirt! Shit!”

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