His to Preserve

"Hello Sab, did you miss me?, I yelled bursting into my best friend's house trying to get her to wake up

" Sabrina Sanders, wake your grumpy gorgeous ass up" She frowned and threw her pillows at me, I ducked one and let the other hit me. I casually strolled in as she got up squinting against the morning light.

"Sab, you're not gonna believe who just got a job" I murmured.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes while sitting up with her eyes wide open. Her suspicion turned to curiosity as she saw the tears well up in my eyes.

"Really Isla, if you're fucking with me I swear to God I'm gonna whoop...no no way, really?"

"It's true Sab," I murmured, my voice cracking as I held out my phone, the email glowing on the screen. "I got it."

She snatched the phone, her eyes scanning the text. Her voice dropped "Oh my God Isla, I'm so fucking proud of you my best friend, Thorne and co???, You just got a job at Thorne and Co?" she whispered in disbelief which quickly turned into pure joy.

"Yeah, Sab... I'm going to be working as the historian. The Thorne's Foundation accreditation review is in six months and I've been employed to put their records in order, authenticate artifacts and heirlooms for insurance, and also document their history for the next generation."

"Aww...my baby girl".

She pulled me into a bone-crushing hug "We fucking need to celebrate, it's Friday Isla; I strongly recommend some alcohol, clubbing, and serious pounding to that tight little pussy of yours"

A wicked grin spread across my face as she gently tugged on a curl in my hair.

"Firstly, I need to..." I protested.

"No excuses, let's get you something to wear my sexy historian.

NIGHTCLUB:

The club reeked of sweat, perfume, and vodka, its loudspeakers thrummed through the floor into my bones.

"I'm gonna get another round!" Sab yelled over the music as she weaved around the crowded bar rotating her hips to the beat as she moved. She laughed, flashing me a thumbs-up.

"Don't take too long you horny ass" I retorted.

She giggled and gave me a light shove. "Whatever, go get some dick yourself Isla!"

---

It's been thirty minutes since Sab went to get "another round" and my butt feels sore from sitting, so I decided to go on a rescue mission.

The hallway to the restroom was dimly lit and rowdier, The air was also muskier with cigarettes and sweat.

"Watch where you're going, weirdo" A skinny guy yelled groping and grinding on some female.

"Sorry" I muttered

"Want some head baby..."A large, sweaty guy with grizzled blonde hair blocked my path, clutching my hand tightly; his breath smelled like beer as he spoke.

"How about some little fun," he slurred.

Panic laced through me "No thank you" I let out, the fear evident in my voice.

"Come on baby" he insisted, pulling me closer, I stumbled backwards and slammed into a hard wall that smelled like sandalwood and expensive whiskey while strong hands shot out to steady me, with a firm grip.

I looked up to apologize, but was met with ice-blue eyes on perfect jet-black hair, a chiseled face with a sharp jawline, a pointed nose, and day-old stubble on his chin, wondering how that would feel inside my...

"Earth to young lady, are you alright?" a voice like sin rumbled which did things to my stomach.

"Huhhh..." without thinking I slammed my lips on his.

"You are no fun" Fatty protested as he walked away.

I shut my eyes as sexy sin deepened the kiss and pulled me against his hardness poking my thighs. I pulled away from the kiss trying to catch my breath as I gazed into his dark gaze that was filled with primal hunger and intense desire. My steps were unsteady, heels catching on the plush carpet while I was dragged into a quiet dark room.

It was calm with no lighting, except for a single lamp casting shadows on the deep leather sofas. He looked up, a slow, intrigued smile spreading across his face.

"Well not so bad for a one-night stand," I thought.

The door clicked shut, closing us in the quiet, intimate space. I stumbled forward, closing the distance between us while pushing him against the posh sofa. Gently placing my hands on the arms of his chair, I leaned over him, my curls brushing his jaw. I saw the look of shock in his eyes, quickly replaced by a dark, hungry heat. He smelled incredibly clean, masculine spice.

"I'm damn good at what I do," I whispered, my lips inches from his ear before I slowly, deliberately, lowered myself into his lap.

He didn't stop me. His free hand came to rest on my hip, not guiding, just holding a silent permission.

"I don't doubt you for a second," he said huskily.

Slowly, I started to grind on his hard tent to a faint beat only I could hear, I rolled my hips against him clumsily. Each action was fueled by alcohol and need, sending thrills all over my body.

His fingers dug into my hip as my hands slid to his shoulders, I felt his powerful muscles tense under his tailored shirt.

I carefully lowered myself again, slowly with rhythm as my soft moans filled the room making him clench his jaw. His eyes were glued to mine, blazing with an intensity that sobered me for a split second.

Who was this man? I thought.

Despite my newfound curiosity, I slid off his lap, my knees hitting the plush carpet between his legs. I looked at him under my lashes, my fingers touching his belt buckle.

His hand covered mine, stopping. His grip was firm. "You're drunk," he said, his voice a low, rough gravel.

"Nope "I protested, tugging at the buckle.

I noticed the silent battle he was fighting between decency and pure unadulterated desire. But I guess desire won as he quickly released my hand while his head fell back against the chair with a soft thud as I freed him from his trousers,

My eyes widened in surprise as his hard dick slapped my face.

"Not what you expected huh" he smirked.

"I'm cooked"...I mumbled but not changing my mind.

I slowly guided him into my mouth, and the groan that ripped from his throat was the most satisfying sound I'd ever heard.

His hand came to rest in my hair, not pushing, just tangling in the curls as I cared for him with my mouth. The quiet lounge was filled with the raw, intimate sounds of his ragged breathing. While I continuously worked with my hands and mouth to make him cum.

The irony was a delicious, private thrill. He had no idea I was the historian hired to handle his family's most precious treasures. And I had no idea the man unravelling beneath my touch was Cade Thorne, my new boss and the owner of the empire I was about to walk into.

It was the perfect scandalous secret. A night that belonged only to us.

Eleanor, my personal assistant, stood before my desk with her straight face holding her tablet like a shield. The scar on her right hand peeks from under her sleeve.

"Mr Cade, the final contracts from the Singapore merger are ready on your desk for..." Her voice trailed away.

And.." she continued, her voice cutting through the fog in my brain,

"The new historian for the Thorne's family collection will be arriving at the estate this afternoon, Your calendar is blocked for the initial walk-through with her tomorrow morning." Can she stop talking already I thought.

I recalled the events of Friday night, about a private lounge, dim light, muffled music, the faint scent of vanilla, big doe eyes, dark curls that felt like silk between my fingers, and a mouth that had been innocent and devastatingly skilled.

How could I forget the shock in her eyes when she'd bumped into me, the desperate, clumsy kiss she'd used as an excuse to chase that oaf. Her boldness... the way she'd taken control, her hips rolling in my lap, the whispered slurred "I'm damn good at what I do."

Fuck... I hadn't been able to get her out of my head since Friday, I didn't even know her name.

She'd been a ghost, a beautiful secret that vanished with the sunrise. I'd woken up alone in the lounge. She left behind a flowery scrunchie on the floor which I'd pocketed like a fool.

"Mr. Thorne, are you listening?" she asked pointedly, adjusting her glasses.

"What?..." I blinked, dragging my gaze from the doorframe to her unamused face.

"Your flight to Zurich," she said, her tone cold implying this wasn't the first time she'd said it. "The car leaves at ten you really need to go."

"Oh Zurich," I answered

My meticulously planned schedule. I ran a hand over my face, the day-old stubble rough against my palm, the same stubble that she'd...

Focus Cade, I thought inwardly.

"Thank you, Eleanor," I said, pushing back from the desk and standing. I grabbed my suit jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on, my mind shifting to the end of the trip.

I was halfway to the door, buttoning my cuffs, when it swung open.

"Ah, Miss Campbell, Mr. Thorne was just on his way out." But the words died in the air.

I looked up with shock in my eyes as the world stopped.

There, in the doorway of my office, haloed by the bright lights of the reception area, stood my mysterious one-night stand.

She was dressed for business now, in a sophisticated, tight, cream-colored blouse and a dark skirt that accentuated her curves, a portfolio clutched tightly in her hands.

The sparkly dress and smudged mascara were gone. Before me stood the same eyes, wide and intelligent, now filled with a profound, almost comical horror.

Her lips parted in shock.

The memories of Friday night crashed over me in a heated wave. The feeling of her porcelain skin beneath my fingers, the taste of her lips on mine, the sounds she'd pulled from me all came rushing like a flood.

A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. So, this is what you look like in the daylight, gorgeous Miss Campbell, I thought inwardly.

Eleanor looked between us with furrowed brows. "Mr. Thorne, this is Isla Campbell, the historian you hired for the family collection. Miss Campbell, your boss, Cade Thorne."

All thoughts of Zurich, investors, and my schedule evaporated-a new, far more enticing plan thickened in my mind.

I took a step towards her, my gaze not leaving hers, letting her see the memory of that night burning in my eyes.

"Miss Campbell," I said, my voice booming.

"What a... tremendous surprise."

The flight could wait. This was more important. I was going to explore every single fascinating inch of my history and I was going to start right now.

ISLA'S POV:

This is it, Isla, do not screw this up, I said to myself as I smoothed my hands down my skirt. The portfolio in my hand felt like a lifeline; it was my proof that I belonged here, that I was a professional in my field.

Chin up, I smiled to myself.

I approached the receptionist, who offered a perfectly polite cold smile. "Isla Campbell for Mr. Thorne. I have an appointment to see Eleanor. I'm the new historian."

"Of course, Miss Campbell Eleanor is expecting you; Come right this way." She led me down a silent hallway as my heels clicked a rhythm that sounded far too loud in the quiet hallway.

Confidence, Isla. You earned this.

We stopped before a door of frosted glass. The receptionist pushed it open. "Eleanor, Miss Campbell is here."

I stepped inside, my eyes taking a second to adjust. And then my world tilted on its own.

It wasn't Eleanor that my gaze found first but the man striding toward the door buttoning the cuffs of a shirt that probably cost more than my student loan payments. The same face I'd seen etched against the dim light of a private lounge.

My heart didn't just skip a beat; it performed a frantic, nervous tap dance against my ribs. The air rushed from my lungs in a silent, horrified gasp. The portfolio slipped in my suddenly damp grasp.

No. It's not possible. It can't be him.

But it was. Those same intense, dark stormy eyes, now wide with shock that mirrored my own. The same mouth that had... oh god!!

Every mesmerizing detail of Friday night crashed over me not as a heated wave. The feel of his hands on my waist. The taste of expensive whiskey. The way I'd brazenly climbed into his lap, fueled by liquid courage and a desperate need to forget my own name. The things that I'd whispered.

"I'm damn good at what I do"...

The memory echoed in my head, taunting me.

His shock melted away, replaced by a slow, predatory smile. It was a look that saw right through my cream-colored blouse and professional facade, straight back to the messy, reckless girl in the sparkly dress. He looked... thrilled.

The woman behind the desk, Eleanor, I presumed, was speaking, her voice fuzzy and distant, as if heard from underwater. "...Isla Campbell the historian... Miss Campbell, your boss Cade Thorne."

Cade Thorne. My boss. The reclusive, notoriously demanding billionaire whose family's art collection I was meant to curate-the man I had... oh no. No, no, no.

My face flamed like a rabbit frozen in the path of a wolf. Every single instinct in my body screamed at me to run.

He took a step toward me, his gaze pinning me in place. It was a look full of possession and a dark, promising amusement. He let me see the memory burning in his eyes, and I knew, with terrifying certainty, that he remembered everything.

"Miss Campbell. What a... tremendous surprise" his voice, deep and resonant and exactly as I remembered it, boomed in the quiet office."

The flight could wait. This was more important. I was going to explore every single fascinating inch of my history and I was going to start right now.

I couldn't breathe. This wasn't a career opportunity; it was a beautifully furnished trap.

Eleanor's voice, laced with confusion, finally cut through my state of shock. "Mr. Thorne, your car is waiting. Shall I... show Miss Campbell to the library at the estate to begin her introductory review?"

Cade's eyes-Mr. Thorne's eyes didn't leave mine for a long, terrifying second.. Finally, he gave a subtle, almost invisible nod.

"Yes," he said, the word a low rumble. "Show her everything, I'll be along shortly." The promise in his tone wasn't a lie. This wasn't over yet, it had merely just begun.

He strode past me, followed by a gush of sandalwood that surged back forbidden memories, and the air he displaced felt charged.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with a very confused Eleanor.

I stood there quivering, my professional composure shattered at my feet.

Eleanor cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses as she looked at me with new curiosity. "Right," she said, her tone cooler than before. "Shall we, Miss Campbell? The car is downstairs. I'll give you a brief overview on the way to the estate."

I could only nod mutely, my mind screaming one single, coherent thought.

I am so utterly, completely, and professionally doomed.

The Thorne's library was located on the West wing of the mansion behind a dark heavy oak door filled with the rich comforting aroma of old books. The shelves were adorned in rich mahogany which stretched towards the glass ceilings. Light rays poured through the massive arched windows brightening the dust specks that drifted lazily in the air. The scent of old parchment, polished wood, and faint sandalwood from Cade's cologne clung to the room, seeping into me like a memory I didn't want to acknowledge.

"This is where you'll spend most of your time, Miss Campbell." Eleanor's clipped voice dragged through the quiet room. She pointed to a polished oak desk set in front of the grand windows. "Cataloguing, restoring, documenting... you'll have everything you need."

Her words barely landed. My mind was too loud, echoing with the sound of Cade's voice in his office, his dark, hungry gaze when he recognized me.

"Excuse me, Mr. Thorne requires me elsewhere. You'll be fine here until the staff comes with coffee," she said as she lifted her face from her phone.

I nodded quickly as I clutched my portfolio against my chest. "Of course, thank you, Eleanor."

She paused, giving me a quick look before sweeping out, the click of her heels fading down the marble hallway..

The air in the library was cool, accompanied by the quiet of a room untouched for decades. I moved towards the oak desk as my nerves began to settle until I felt the change of air, the smell of cigar and sandalwood. Sweat ran along the back of my neck as I nervously turned slowly, seeing my boss against the doorframe; hands in his pockets, broad shoulders filling the space with impossible command. His tie was loosened now, his jacket gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone which exposed the sharp line of his throat and Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. This made me clutch my thighs instinctively.

"Admiring my family's history?" Cade asked.

My breath caught in my throat. "I... I was just browsing through."I stuttered and cleared my throat.

He pushed off the doorframe, his steps slow, deliberate. "There are other things you might want to feel."He muttered walking towards me not breaking a single eye contact

Immediately my throat tightened. "Mr. Thorne, I'd prefer we kept things professio..."

"Professional?" he completed, saying the word like it was foreign.

His gaze locked on mine as he circled the desk, his body heat skimming against me even before he was close enough to touch.

"Tell me, Isla; was what you did to me in that lounge professional?"

"That was... a mistake. I'd had too much to drink."I said trembling

"Mm." He stopped in front of me, so close I could smell him...whiskey, sandalwood, and something distinctly male. I took a step back but his hand shot out caging me in, pulling me closer while his palm flattened on the desk beside my hip.

"You don't get to pretend that it didn't happen, Campbell," he murmured, his voice low, hot against my ear. "Not when I close my eyes and all I can see is you".

"Cade..."My hands clenched tighter around the portfolio. His name slipped out of my lips before I could stop myself.

"Say it again," he ordered.

"Cade..." I repeated, softer this time, trembling.

His free hand slid to my waist, fingers curling into my blouse, tugging me closer. I could feel his hard dick pressed against mine, as his body pinned me against the desk.

"You want to play professional?" he whispered, his breath burning my skin, "but your body says something else."

"No..." I protested weakly, but my voice betrayed me.

"Yes." His hand moved lower, gripping my hips firmly.

"You're trembling Isla, not because you're scared but because you want me."He said cockily.

Before I could deny it, his fingers slipped under the hem of my skirt, trailing upward along the sensitive inside of my thigh making my knees buckle.

"Sir... we can't."

"Watch me," he growled, his mouth brushing my jaw, lips grazing the shell of my ear.

I bit my lip hard almost drawing blood, the only sound escaping my throat was a hopeless whimper as his hand found the lace of my panties. His thumb pressed firmly against the thin fabric, right over the aching throb of my clit. My head fell back against the desk, a sharp gasp ripping from my throat.

"Fuck... you're already wet," he rasped, voice thick with hunger. "For me."He added with a smirk

His fingers pushed past my lace as his thumb circled my clit, slow and deliberate, and I nearly let out a scream

"Cade..." My protest turned into a moan.

"Say my name while I ruin you," he ordered, slipping two thick fingers inside me with a force that made me cry out. My walls clenched hard around his fingers...a greedy, weak response I couldn't mask.

The slippery sound of his fingers thrusting into me filled the quiet library mixing with my ragged breathing while his other hand gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to him. "Look at me, don't you dare close your eyes."

I obeyed, my body arching off the desk, every nerve lit, emotions heightened.

His gaze burned into mine, fierce and consuming, as if this were a claim.

"You're mine...Isla," he growled, pumping his fingers faster, deeper, curling just right to make me explode. "Every time you fight me, every time you try to pretend you're not, I'll remind you like this."

My hips rolled helplessly against his hand, my eyes moving to the back of my head, chasing the pleasure I swore I didn't want.

"Fuck... Cade, please" I dragged.

"Begging already?" His smile was dark. His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his rhythm relentless. "That's it. Let go. Come on daddy like the good girl you are."

My ears perked to "daddy", unable to hold it, I let it out. My orgasm ripped through me every muscle locking, my cry muffled against his chest as wave after wave tore me apart.

Cade continued to pump his fingers, he didn't stop until I was a shaky, breathless mess collapsed against the desk. He finally withdrew his moist glistening fingers which he brought to his lips as he sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Still professional huh?" he murmured smirking. "Tell me again, how are you going to keep this professional?"

I couldn't answer as my legs were weak and my voice was gone. My body is still trembling from his touch.

He leaned down, lips touching mine but not kissing, leaving me desperate for more.

"This is just the beginning," he said, then stepped back, leaving me ruined and wanting on the edge of the oak desk, still craving his touch.

Standing behind the doorframe, neither Cade nor I heard the camera flick.