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Home / Samples / Brutally His: A Dark Billionaire Romance by Zoe Blake and Alta Hensley – Sample

Brutally His: A Dark Billionaire Romance by Zoe Blake and Alta Hensley – Sample

Chapter 1: Edwina

I glanced around the empty office. Did I dare?

No. I couldn’t.

I hesitated, shivering slightly from the cool draft of the large office building caressing my face. The shadows cast by the dim overhead lights seemed to buzz and nervously twitch, urging me to retreat.

Taking a few tentative steps back, I peered down the entranceway. It resembled a void, its depths holding secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to uncover. It was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the usual hum of activity when everyone was around.

I stepped forward and stretched my arm out toward the doorknob, then pulled back.

No. This was insane.

What if I got caught?

A sudden, familiar vibration in my pocket made me jump. My phone illuminated my surroundings momentarily, casting a pale blue glow. The message was simple, yet it bore the weight of a thousand implications.

Where R U?

The urgency of the situation pressed on me, but I knew I had to respond.

Held up at work. On my way.

I cursed under my breath.

Why had I chosen today to stay late?


Knowing it was useless, I trudged down the hallway and tugged on the restroom door handle again.


I stomped back to my new desk, my eyes irresistibly drawn to the imposing door of my new boss’s office.

Even though I’d not formally met him, the reputation of Harrison Astrid, the district attorney, was legendary in the city.

Everyone seemed to have a story or an impression of him. Not all of them good.

I was only assigned as his new paralegal this morning, and he had been away from the office all day at meetings. And I knew from his calendar that he was attending a social function this evening, so he wasn’t expected back in the office until tomorrow morning.

I bit my lip and once more peeped down the deserted hallway.

My phone buzzed again.

Hurry up. The club is filling up and they won’t let you in soon!

I had stayed late to prepare some files to make a good impression.

Too late.

Stupid security had locked the restrooms, and now I had no place to change out of my boring, conservative blazer and skirt and into the black cocktail dress I had brought with me to work. I so rarely allowed myself the luxury of a night out with my friends, I really didn’t want to miss this one.

With one more nervous glance around the empty office floor, I let out a resigned sigh.

Feeling the pressure of the night ahead, and the urgency from my friends, I hesitated for just another beat.

Screw it. I’d be really fast. No one would ever know!

With shaking hands, I opened Mr. Astrid’s office door.

The creak of its hinges made me wince. The opulence of the room was overwhelming as I crept across the thick Persian carpet to his private executive bathroom. Gingerly turning the crystal and brass doorknob, I swung open the heavy oak door and flipped on the light.

My mouth dropped open as I stepped inside. Quickly closing the door behind me, I just stood there for the longest moment, taking in the large, elegant space with the gorgeous green marble, gilt-framed mirror, and textured cream wallpaper. Were those real linen hand towels? I couldn’t resist running my hand over them.

What the hell?

The ladies’ room had dreary, putty-colored, painted cinder blocks with cracked linoleum floors.

Shaking my head at how lucky the “other half” was, I thumped my pink gym bag on the counter and unzipped it, pulling out my carefully folded cocktail dress.

“Dammit.” My makeup pouch came out with the dress, thudding to the floor. I swept it up, banging my elbow in the process, and tossed it back into the gym bag. “Ouch.” Kicking off my ballet flats, I grimaced as they each hit the wall, then shrugged out of my blazer and untucked my simple, white cotton blouse.

Not wanting to waste time with the buttons, I tried to just wrench it over my head, but those same buttons got caught in my long ponytail.

With my arms stretched high and the blouse pulled over my face, I awkwardly leaned my hips against the bathroom door as I tried to untangle my curls from around the small pearl buttons.

Just then, the door swung open.

Pulled off-balance, I tipped backward into the office.

A pair of warm, strong hands wrapped around my exposed middle.

With a shriek, I ripped the blouse off my head, wincing as it tore several strands of hair out of my scalp.

In horror, I found myself in the arms of my new boss, Harrison Astrid.

My cheeks heated when I realized he was glaring down at my half-naked body.

Chapter 2: Harrison

There were only so many hours in a day, and on this particular one, Mary Quinn Astrid had wasted far too many of them tonight with her mindless chatter and schemes.

In public, to avoid arguments she was mother, but privately, I hadn’t thought of her as such since I was a naive little boy still hopelessly craving her love and affection. Neither of which she had ever shown so much as a drop of to me or to any of her other children.

So in my mind, she was always Mary Quinn Astrid.

It was fitting to use all three names when thinking of her, like how society referred to any sociopathic killer.

Under usual circumstances, when her meddling pissed me off this much, I would head to the gym and work out my frustrations on a punching bag.

Unfortunately, with the situation such as it was, that was a luxury I didn’t have tonight.

Mary Quinn Astrid’s antics had reached the toxic point of actually impacting my career, so much so that I had to work even harder to keep my upward mobility and reputation intact.

Not that I didn’t already put in more hours than everyone else in my entire office. But as pompous as it sounded, my privilege required me to work constantly. If I didn’t show up and prove myself to be the better man each day, then people would say I hadn’t earned my job and that my daddy bought it like he bought my brother’s cushy military officer position.

Not that my brother didn’t work hard, he did. But strings were pulled, and because of that, he lost a fair bit of respect, and it had taken far more time and effort to regain it than if he had just earned the position outright.

He had people who were paid to respect him, a clear-cut chain of command that rendered his subordinates’ smack talk mostly unimportant. It didn’t matter if a soldier didn’t respect the man giving the orders. Those orders still had to be followed.

The way I viewed it, for better or worse, the armed forces required people to be sheep. You did what you were told when you were told, and unless your parents paid for a position, you worked your way up, or didn’t, in a logical manner. Independent thought and initiative were generally not rewarded.

Lawyers, even ones who worked in public office, were not sheep. They were sharks.

Every last one of them would make it their mission to take me out if they smelled blood in the water.

If they didn’t respect me, my days as an effective district attorney would be numbered, and I would be replaced at the next election.

Like Machiavelli’s prince, I had to be respected and feared at all times.

This was why, after dealing with the walking headache that was my mother, I was back in the office instead of at home or at the club enjoying a drink and maybe a waitress.

The office was dark and quiet. Peaceful. And although I didn’t like it when I had to come in this late, I preferred it like this. There were no office politics to navigate, polite small talk to engage in, or other social niceties to observe, wasting my time. I didn’t even have to lose work time wondering who was gunning for my job or, worse, who was actually good enough to do it.

This time was perfectly productive.

Occasionally, when it was like this, I would sit back and wonder what it would have been like if I hadn’t insisted on proving myself in the public sector. What if, by now, I was a named partner at some large corporate law firm, and I could work from home most days? Where my office would always be completely devoid of the mindless chatter of office gossip and drama.

Not that I hadn’t run into the occasional intern or first year ADA burning the midnight oil trying to make a name for themselves. A trait I admired, and I always made sure to note the names of the people I saw here often. I kept track of which assistant DAs and staff were dedicated to their jobs, who had a well-formed work ethic, who was ambitious, who was too ambitious…and who was lazy and lacked any ambition at all.

At least I hadn’t seen any evidence of anyone using the quiet of the office to sneak a little extra-marital affair or rendezvous with a prostitute, a trait I admired less and which I knew happened in some of the private firms around town. Many of the higher-end escorts in the city slept with a lawyer or a judge to keep their records clean. They called it “community service,” which would have been amusing if it weren’t so accurate. Or perhaps that was what made it funny?

I wasn’t sure. My sense of humor had been crushed under my workload in law school and never recovered once I entered the public sphere.

Those men all joked that a bit of stress relief in the office made them more productive or made it easier to deal with the pressure of their jobs. I had always thought they were making excuses, but after the day I’d had, part of me wondered if I shouldn’t follow their lead. Not for stress relief but to work out some of the tension and frustration running through my muscles.

Maybe taking my frustration out on a woman’s pussy…

Feeling her under my control.

Forced to take every inch of me inside of whatever hole I demanded.

Forced to obey me.

Forced to do as she was fucking told.

All with no ulterior motive. Just a clean exchange, a simple quid pro quo that didn’t demand more of my time than I was willing to give, ending in the dopamine rush of an orgasm. Couldn’t hurt, right? At the very least, it would clear my head.

There was a madam who was very respected in the area. She kept her girls clean and honest. A number of the men who went that route used her if they weren’t blackmailing some other poor girl into it. I could get her number and see if she had anyone available this week.

With all the focus I’d been putting on my career, it had been too long since I’d been between a woman’s thighs.

I turned the corner into the bullpen and saw the light on in my office. I frowned. Something wasn’t right. My office was supposed to be locked with the lights off, precisely how I left it.

There were spare keys in the desks next to my door, one for my secretary and one for my paralegal. It stood to reason whoever was in my private office had gotten one of those keys. The only question left was who was going to be fired for doing so.

Of course, it could be someone other than an employee.

Although I had been keeping a tight lid on it, it was possible my secret investigation into the Irish mob’s business affairs in New York had been leaked. With the right bribe, all information was for sale. Even sensitive files from the district attorney’s office.

Not knowing who I would be facing, I stormed into my office with the idea of taking whoever was inside by surprise since I did not have the benefit of my gun, which was in my center desk drawer.

The office was empty.

My narrowed gaze scanned the file cabinets lining one far wall. None of the drawers were opened or seemed to be disturbed. The same could be said for my desk. If someone was in here attempting to steal files, they were either the neatest criminal I had ever come across in my career or I had interrupted them before they’d had a chance to ransack the place.

My head then jerked to the side at a dull thud coming from across the room. There was a sliver of light under the bathroom door. Setting my leather briefcase on the desk, I stretched my arm over its expanse, pulled open the center drawer, and withdrew my Smith and Wesson .38 revolver.

The average citizen assumed a semiautomatic pistol, like a Glock, was superior to the old-fashioned revolver. They were wrong. A macabre perk of being an attorney was access to gun data.

The revolver had a sixty percent higher fatality rate than a Glock. It was a more efficient gun if your intent when shooting was to kill—as mine would be.

Adjusting the gun’s grip in my hand, I moved to the closed bathroom door, being careful to approach it from the side and not straight on, in case the perpetrator should suddenly swing it open and emerge shooting.

There were more thuds and bumps, the scrape of a shoe against the tiles, then a couple of muted bangs as if something had been knocked over on the sink’s marble countertop.

What the fuck?

Judging by the noise, there was a struggle on the other side of the door.

Had two people broken in?

If they were fighting one another, then their intent was not to conceal themselves from discovery.

Which meant it was not someone affiliated with the mafia.

I was back to my original hypothesis.

It was someone from my staff.

Was one of them testing the boundaries of their job by bringing a lover into the boss’s office for an illicit thrill?

It would be a bold move but ultimately stupid and career-ending.

There had already been too much time wasted today.

They needed to get the fuck out and hope I didn’t recognize them.

Lowering the gun, I threw open the door.

Chapter 3: Harrison

A beautiful woman trying to wriggle into or maybe out of a shirt fell into my arms.

The first thing I noticed was her warm, tanned skin and how impossibly soft it was under my hands. Then how her hair smelled of strawberries and orchids.

She had to be a hooker who’d just wandered into the wrong office building before it closed. Maybe it was my lucky night, and hers, with how much I was willing to pay to steal her from her date tonight.

Realizing she would be no threat, with my free arm, I reached up and placed the gun on top of the nearest bookcase.

The woman yanked her top off, wincing as she pulled out several strands of her golden blonde hair that had wrapped around a cheap imitation white pearl button. She took a step back then looked at me with wide, pale green eyes rimmed with gorgeous, thick lashes.

Instantly I pictured what she would look like on her knees watching me through those lashes as she worked those plump, pink lips over my shaft.

My cock lengthened.

Whatever the cost, I would pay it and then some.

“I’m so sorry. I just needed to get changed, and they locked the public bathrooms, and…” Her eyes went to the floor, the tops of her cheeks turning a pretty, dark pink shade. The blush traveled down her neck to the tops of her breasts until it disappeared under the pale pink lace of the bra she was wearing.

I barely registered her rambling excuse for trespassing in my office.

My mind was elsewhere, completely distracted.

Would her breasts taste as sweet as her hair smelled?

Was she a natural blonde? I knew a very entertaining way to find out.

Using her crumpled shirt to block my view of her breasts, she said breathlessly, “I’ll just get out of your office.”

I slammed my hand against the doorframe, blocking her way. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

I leaned against the jamb, crowding her as I continued to look my fill.

She stepped back, and I followed.

Kicking the door closed, I caged her in, my hands flat on the wall on either side of her.

She averted her face. “I know I shouldn’t have been in here. I know it was wrong.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” I pulled at the crumpled shirt blocking my view of her body. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”

After a brief tug-of-war, which she lost, I tossed the shirt away and let my eyes wander over her luscious curves. Taking in every tempting inch, from her full breasts which almost spilled out of her bra, to her flat stomach, to the gentle swell of her hips hidden under her skirt.

She shifted to the left but was stopped by my forearm. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now.”

I leaned down, letting my warm breath ruffle the soft stray curls against her cheek. “Bad girls don’t get to leave without punishment.”

The muscles along her slim throat contracted as she swallowed. “Punishment?”

I ran my fingertips along her collarbone, then down the center of her chest to her breast, her skin above her bra even softer than what I had already held in my hands. Pressing her lace-enclosed nipple against the center of my palm, I cupped her breast, testing the weight as my fingers pressed into her flesh.

Lush, real breasts on an escort. I really had captured myself a hidden gem.

She pressed her body back, her palms flat against the wall. “Please, just let me leave. We can pretend this never happened.”

Completely ignoring her plea, I whispered in her ear, “Maybe as punishment, I should bend you over that sink and show you what happens to bad little girls who go where they don’t belong.”

Her soft jade eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Please, I’m sorry. I…”

I slipped my hand up to cup her jaw, rubbing my thumb over her full bottom lip. “A girl like you should know there is only one way to beg for forgiveness, and it’s on your knees.”

My other hand slid down her body and under the cute little black skirt she was wearing.

Her small hand covered mine, trying to prevent me from raising the hem.

Once again there was a brief tug-of-war.

Once again, she lost.

My fingers splayed open over the warm skin of her leg, her thigh muscles tightening beneath my hand as she smashed her legs together.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. That is no way to behave toward your next VIP client.” I admonished her, pressing my knee between her thighs, forcing her legs open.

The movement made her skirt rise even higher, reaching the tops of her legs as I slid my hand inside her panties. When I pushed just my middle finger between her pussy lips, her eyes slid shut, and she let out a breathy moan.

I smiled against the curve of her cheek. “Good girl. Keep giving me those sweet moans and I’ll double your price.”

I wasn’t ignorant, I knew prostitutes were paid to act like they enjoyed their client’s touch. Still, her wet arousal when there was clearly no bottle of lube within reach told me her reaction to my caress was genuine.

Her head rolled from side to side against the wall, her brow furrowed. “No. You don’t understand. You have to stop. We can’t do this.”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist in a futile attempt to dislodge mine.

There was no fucking way I was leaving without feeling her pussy clutch at my cock. “You must be new to this game. Trust me, babygirl. I can do whatever I want to this tempting body of yours and there is nothing and no one to stop me.”

I spread the slickness from her entrance around her clit.

She moaned again, rising on her toes in a half-hearted attempt to shift away from my hand. The reluctant, innocent act was almost convincing. She would be worth every penny.

My gaze zeroed in on her mouth, thoughts of all the filthy things I wanted to do to it crashing around my already fevered brain as I watched her sharp, white teeth sink into the fullness of her bottom lip.

I rarely took lovers, and this would be my first paid experience. That being said, I enjoyed the satisfaction of a job well done. I would be making her come on my fingers, at least once, before I bent her over the sink and fucked her hard and fast.

“Do you know who I am?” I rasped against the edge of her jaw.

She didn’t open her eyes, but nodded and bit her lip a little harder.

I was going to taste that lip soon. The dim light shone off the gilded edges of the mirror and reflected on her clear porcelain skin and her golden hair, giving her an ethereal glow. The woman looked like an angel, a sweet fallen angel, one I had every intention of corrupting even further.

She sold her body like a commodity.

I would buy it all.

I rubbed tighter circles around her clit, her thighs trembling as they brushed my wrist. My cock strained against my trousers, needing a release. When I did finally bend her over the sink counter, I was going to pound into her so hard and fast there was little doubt I’d bruise her sweet pussy.

So before the pain, I’d give her a taste of pleasure.

“Good. Then I’ll count on your discretion. Especially since you know the power I yield and what would happen to someone in your vulnerable line of work if you don’t meet my demands or betray me.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you threatening to fire me if I don’t give in to you?”

Leaning down, I nipped at her earlobe. “You’re not hired yet, sweetheart. Consider this an audition. If you take every inch of my cock nice and deep inside this cute little body of yours, then I’ll hire you.”

I gently pinched her clit. “I’ll expect you to be a wet and willing, obedient, submissive fuck toy ready to meet my every demand. No matter how painful or depraved.”

She shoved against my chest. “How dare you! You can’t talk to me like this. I don’t care if I borrowed your stupid bathroom!”

The effect was that of a little kitten batting at a lion with her paws.

My hand shifted from her jaw to wrap around her throat. The tips of my fingers pressed into her delicate flesh as I squeezed. At the same moment, I added a second finger and thrust deep into her pussy.

Her mouth opened on a whimper as she stilled.

A growl emanated from deep inside my chest. “You like that, babygirl? Like the idea of a firm hand wrapped around your throat? You’ll like the feel of my hand spanking this misbehaving ass of yours even more.”

Her breath hitched, and a tear escaped from the corner of her eye.

Damn, she was good. If she kept up this frightened ingenue act much longer, I would have no choice but to fuck her first and then see to her needs afterward, because my cock was already a hammer looking for a pretty little nail.

My finger slid along her pussy, teasing her further. “If you please me, I’ll lock you into a two-million-a-year exclusive contract. Plus bonuses any time you let me push your pain limits with a new, pleasurable kink.”

Her body stiffened under my touch.

Fuck yes. She was close to orgasm. It made sense that a lucrative contract would be enough to push a hooker over the edge.

Instead, she tried to shove me away again.

I squeezed her throat in warning as I pressed my hips into hers.

“If two million isn’t enough, we can negotiate after your audition,” I offered while pulling one of the straps of her bra down over her delicate shoulder, exposing her perfectly round, blush-pink nipple.

It was the same pale pink color as her lips—and hopefully her pussy lips as well.

My mouth watered.

Her eyes opened, their intense green filled with undisguised rage.

The emotion caught me so off guard that I didn’t see her hand move in time.

She slapped my face hard enough I actually stumbled away from the wall.

Giving her a chance to shift away from me and grab her shoes and blouse from the floor, thrusting them into her bag.

“I am not a whore. I am your new paralegal.”

Her words were short and clipped, squeezed through tight lips as she slung her bag over her shoulder while righting her bra then shoved past me toward my office door.

I stared after her, slack-jawed, wincing at the slam of the door behind her.

Fuck. What did I just do?

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