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The ceo's obsession

The ceo's obsession

Author: Nanakhadu
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Chapter 1 The First Stroke

Word Count: 1098    |    Released on: 28/02/2026

amp, but it wasn't the light that stopped Mason Blackwell's

was

lood, streaking the bare skin between cutoff tank top and low-slung jeans. Her dark hair clung to her neck in damp strands; sweat or mist from the river nearby, he couldn't tell. Every stroke of

roken only by the soft hiss of spray paint and he

omething-some long-buried wire in his chest-snapped taut as he watched her hips shift for leverage, the

out witho

e froze mid-stroke, brush hovering. Slowl

eyes l

h smudged black liner. His were blacker th

her fire suggested. Twenty-one, maybe twenty-two. Young enoug

ed closer, hands in pockets to hide

brush again, dragged scarlet in a deliberate slash across what would have been his building'

een years. Not since he'd clawed out of this rotting town with

distance in

ed him approach like a predat

sweeter-vanilla body oil, maybe. Paint speckled her collarbon

g the side of her breast with his forear

ched. Barely.

back." Low.

wn the center of her throat, following the line of her pulse. Crimson painted

ed instantly aga

voice velvet over steel. "Seems o

vement. "Touch me again without permission a

artbeat apart. Her lips parted on a shaky

ion," he said softly.

nd he thought she migh

oved hard agai

dn't

em above her head against the still-wet mural. Paint smear

chest. His thigh slotted between hers-hard, insistent.

nst her ear. "That's what happen

to escape or grind close

, but her voice crac

d down her side, fingers digging into the s

know yo

liberate-letting her feel every thick inch of him t

rick. Paint transferred to her h

her throat-sharp,

int streak on her neck. One h

d violently in

stif

instantly-fear sli

spered. Not to h

ked it from her jeans b

en l

wn Nu

Finish the job or the mural isn't

n her tightene

ow, not defiant

ning you?" His voice dro

tched the phone. "No

er gaze back. "Everything ab

aking behind the billionaire mask-and f

curved. Smal

her paint-streaked breasts brushed his ruined shirt. "Try it.

ckpack, and walked into th

obbing painfully, paint dryi

one vi

his head o

n was seen meeting with local activist group tonight. Subject:

uette of the girl who'd just painted

ed one

llance. No one to

the crimson streak st

t it to h

pper and

sm

-and Harper Voss had no idea ho

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