Risking it all for Pleasure...

All About Business

The city skyline looms outside my office window, the glittering lights casting a soft glow over the boardroom. Another long day of meetings, decisions, and impossible expectations. Being the CEO of one of the most powerful companies in the world means no room for weakness, no space for vulnerability. I've long since learned to carry myself with authority, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that I'm in control-always. But as the elevator descends to the garage, I feel the weight of the day pressing on me, dragging at my shoulders. I close my eyes, take a breath, and remind myself of who's waiting for me at home.

The drive feels endless, city lights blurring through the windshield as my mind drifts to him. Thoughts of his touch, his presence, soothe the lingering tension in my chest. My home, the sanctuary where I can finally shed this armor, is just minutes away. My anticipation builds, mingling with the calm he always seems to bring to my mind, even when he's not there. Finally, I pull into the garage, the quiet hum of the engine fading as I gather my things, feeling the energy shift as I step inside. The moment I walk through the door, I know he senses it. He always does. It's as if he's finely tuned to my every mood, reading the tension in the air before I even speak. There's no need for pleasantries or drawn-out explanations between us-he understands what I need before I even articulate it myself.

I set my briefcase down and slip off my shoes, immediately feeling the relief of grounding myself. Before I can fully turn, I feel his presence behind me. His steps are soft, deliberate, yet each one is weighted with a quiet power. I don't have to look over my shoulder to know that he's already focused on me, his attention completely attuned to what I need tonight. The day's weight begins to slip away with him near. In this space, I don't have to be the CEO, nor do I need to have to wear the mask of strength I carry every day. With him, I can simply be.

"Rough day?" he asks, his voice deep, resonating against the quietness of the space. He doesn't wait for me to answer, and honestly, I don't need to. He already knows. I tilt my head slightly as his hands brush against my shoulders. Just the slightest touch, enough to make me lean into him and feel his warmth. The familiar scent of him-woodsy, warm, with a hint of spice-grounds me. It's as though the stress of the day evaporates under his touch, like I'm shedding the weight I've been carrying since I left the office.

"Go sit," he says softly, his lips grazing the edge of my ear. There's a command there, but it's gentle, loving. He knows that when I come home, I don't want to make decisions. Not with him. Here, I can let go and allow myself to melt into something softer, something... vulnerable. I sink onto the couch, feeling the soft fabric beneath me. He's already moving to light the candles, casting a soft, golden glow over the living room. I watch him, my eyes tracing the strong lines of his back as he moves. There's something about how he takes care of every detail-how he pours the glass of wine without a second thought, how he folds the blanket over my lap just the way I like it. He's deliberate, thorough, and attentive.

He kneels in front of me, dark eyes locking onto mine as he hands me the glass. The way he looks at me... It's like I'm the center of his world, the only thing that matters at this moment. There's reverence there, as if he's grateful just to be in my presence. I take a sip, savoring the rich taste, and I feel myself beginning to unwind. "Anything else you need?" He asks, his voice softer now, a low murmur meant only for me.

I shake my head, but the look in his eyes tells me he isn't convinced. He's never satisfied with just the surface. He knows me well enough to understand that I won't always say what I need-that sometimes I don't even know myself. But he does. He always does. Without a word, he moves behind me again, and I feel his hands at the back of my neck. His fingers knead into my tense muscles, slowly working through the knots that have built up throughout the day. I close my eyes, letting out a slow breath. His touch is firm but tender, grounding me in a way nothing else can. Time seems to be slow. The tension in my body melts away as his hands work their magic, his fingers tracing the lines of my neck, my shoulders, and down the length of my arms. It's not just a massage-it's care, devotion. Every movement is filled with a purpose, an unspoken desire to make me feel... cherished.