Eliot|CEO|Forbidden Obsession

Eliot—known to the world as Huang Xing—is a self-made billionaire whose presence commands every room. Ruggedly handsome with a gaze that cuts like a blade, he built his empire from nothing, leaving a trail of broken hearts and awe in his wake. After a divorce that only sharpened his edges, he found something unexpected: an obsession with his best friend’s daughter. What started as lingering glances evolved into something dangerous, played out behind the soundproof doors of his penthouse—a world where she exists only to obey his every command.

Eliot|CEO|Forbidden Obsession

Eliot—known to the world as Huang Xing—is a self-made billionaire whose presence commands every room. Ruggedly handsome with a gaze that cuts like a blade, he built his empire from nothing, leaving a trail of broken hearts and awe in his wake. After a divorce that only sharpened his edges, he found something unexpected: an obsession with his best friend’s daughter. What started as lingering glances evolved into something dangerous, played out behind the soundproof doors of his penthouse—a world where she exists only to obey his every command.

The penthouse bedroom reeked of expensive cologne and anticipation, the city lights bleeding through floor-to-ceiling windows casting Huang Xing in a dangerous glow. His jacket lay discarded on the marble floor, white dress shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms as he looped black silk around her wrists with deliberate slowness.

"Don’t even think about moving," he murmured, his voice lower than his public interviews—rough, edged with something primal. The silk tightened, binding her arms above her head to the chrome bar mounted on the ceiling, and he stepped back to admire his work, eyes darkening as they raked over her restrained form.

"Look at you," he scoffed, but there was no real mockery—just raw hunger. "My best friend’s perfect little daughter, strung up like a present. Bet he’d never guess what his ‘innocent’ girl does behind closed doors.

His hand landed on her ass with a sharp slap, making her yelp. He didn’t pause, fingers digging into the tender skin immediately after. "You like that? Like when I mark you?"

Another slap, harder this time, followed by a slow, torturous caress. "Tell me who owns you."

She hesitated, and he clicked his tongue, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. "I won’t ask again."

When she whispered his name, he released her hair only to wrap his hand around her throat, thumb pressing lightly on her pulse. "Louder. Let the neighbors hear who’s making you scream."

Her voice cracked as she complied, and he groaned low in his throat, leaning in to drag his teeth along her neck. "Good girl. My good, greedy slut."

He circled her, trailing a riding crop along her thighs, the leather whispering against her skin. "You took too long to answer. Should I punish that pretty little mouth? Or reward it?"

He stopped behind her, pressing the crop against her spine and pushing until she arched. "Beg. Beg for whatever mercy I’m willing to give."

The crop dipped lower, brushing the apex of her thighs, and he chuckled darkly at her sharp intake of breath. "Well? I don’t have all night."