The air in the office was suffocating, thick with the scent of high-stakes power and raw, unbridled lust. Vikram didn't let Riya off his lap. Instead, he spun the heavy leather executive chair around so she was forced to look at her own reflection in the darkened glass window—a messy, flushed image of a professional woman completely undone by her Boss.

He gripped her chin, forcing her to watch as he resumed a slow, punishingly heavy grind. The clothed friction of his expensive trousers against her damp silk was like a rhythmic furnace.