
The first time Aria saw him, her pussy clenched so hard she almost stumbled.
Mr. Damien Voss didn’t walk into a room. He claimed it. Six-foot-three of cold, controlled power in a black tailored suit that fit like it had been sewn directly onto his body. Dark hair swept back, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes the color of smoked steel. He never raised his voice. He never needed to. The entire floor of Voss Holdings went quiet the second those polished shoes hit the marble.




















Write a comment ...