A Plaything For CEO Blackwood par Kelvin Iwuchukwu

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A Plaything For CEO Blackwood
A Plaything For CEO Blackwood

A Plaything For CEO Blackwood

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An innocent small town girl, desperate to get a job, Annabel finds herself torn between the devil and the deep blue sea. But there is no sweeter devil than Maxwell Blackwood; the CEO of Blackwood precious stones and jewelries. One of the biggest jewelry manufacturing and marketing company in the states To be offered the job of a personal assistant to the CEO himself, Annabel has to surrender herself to a life of sexual exploit and abuse; she is required to be a plaything for the Billionaire CEO. At first, she was just expected to an obedient sub, a tool for pleasure, no emotions attached, but what happens when fate plays a silly game with the duo? A controlling, proud, and ironically over protective CEO, and a wide-eyed, roguish, annoying young lady; would it ever work out? With her ever complicated life, Annabel finds herself in a dilemma when Mr. Blackwood wants her to be more than just his plaything. What more could be to that? How can the bad boy fall in love? And what happens when mini Blackwood comes into the picture? Anna’s life as a small town girl experienced a drastic change, perhaps there was more to her story?

L'obsession
Patron et assistant
D'Ennemis à Amants
Erotique
Amour de bureau
PDG

Chapitre 1

Mar 31, 2025

The CEO, a handsome young man with dark hair and olive skin, walked into the room. He was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He was wearing a tailored suit that showed off his physique to perfection. He smiled at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Well, only until I learned that he was an asshole—a fucking asshole!

**

"Where is the strangest place that you have had sex?" The unexpected question left me speechless.

I didn’t think I heard her right, but her words sounded as clear as day. Jennifer Gilbert had actually asked me that. How could she do that to me? I thought we were best friends.

I swallowed hard and tilted my head to the right. "Huh?" I muttered, hoping that she would ask for a different truth. Yeah, we were playing a game of truth or dare.

It was game night at the Cruz house; the Cruz twins had hosted the evening’s entertainment, and it always gets crazy at the Cruz house. My name is Annabel, or Ann for short, or Anna if you prefer, and this is the pitiful, sad story of my miserable existence.

The game night was a little ritual that we, a.k.a. the girls, had picked up during our college days, and even one year after college, we didn’t let go of it; rather, we brought the guys into it.

Friday night games with just the girls were fun, but Friday night games with both sexes can get chaotic. So now it is not just game night; it is freaky game night, and the fact that we were almost adults didn’t change a thing!

"Well, that is an easy one; come on, Anna, tell us already; we are not going to wait forever," one of the Cruz twins urged excitedly. Was it Bella or Belle? I still can’t tell them apart from each other, and that is one thing that makes them special; they are so identical that even their parents struggle to tell them apart.

Rumor has it that they switch places with their boyfriends and never get caught. But then I wouldn’t really be surprised if that were true. I mean, the Cruz twins are capable of absolutely anything.

"Um, I think I would go with a dare," I said, forcing a wry smile at Jenny. I was so getting back at her for this; I won't let it slide!

She smirked and exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, Annabel Joseph, a dare—I thought I would never see the day."

"Just hit me with a dare already," I chuckled softly.

"With all pleasure, babes, I dare you to kiss Gideon over there!" she yelled.

My heart flipped in surprise. Gideon? Eww! Definitely not Gideon! Now I had the feeling that she would dare me to kiss some boy, as she had been trying to get me out of a mood, but not the snobbish, nerdy, fat Gideon, who hasn’t gotten any hotter in the past five years of knowing each other.

My eardrums couldn’t hold the laughter that erupted in the room, and damn right, her request and my reaction were hilarious. There is no way I am going to kiss nerdy, fat Gideon; everyone knows that.

"Come on, Ann, kiss him! Kiss him!!" Jennifer started a chant, and every other soul in the room joined her. Of course, except for Gideon, his chubby, meat-filled cheeks remained intact like an overfed toad or a frog; whichever one that looked like a drum.

Okay, that is it. "I am sorry guys, but I got to run," I said quickly, a veiled expression on my face, trying to hide my discomfort as I got up from the rug.

"Wait what? Come on, babes, don’t ruin the fun," Jennifer voiced immediately, spreading her arms in disagreement. The wolfish look on her face was replaced by one of disappointment.

"I am so sorry; I just remembered that I needed to meet someone by nine p.m., so I gotta run," I lied.

I have been depressed for a few weeks now, trying not to think of that jerk, and the first thing she does is ask me about the strangest place I had sex. How do I answer that question without thinking of the guy who I had sex with—the fool who took my heart for a ride and then dropped it in a trillion pieces without remorse?

Thinking back to the strangest sex or the best sex I have had loosely translates to thinking about Jimmy, and I don’t even want to remember that name, let alone think of him.

After bidding goodbye to the Cruz sisters and the rest of the guys in the friend group, I left the Cruz house, quickly boarding a taxi home. I could tell that Stanley was giving me the bedroom eyes the whole evening, but I just got out of one; I don’t have any energy for boy drama.

Right, I wasn’t meeting anyone tonight, but I would rather be home crying than doing it out in public. Come to think of it, why should I even cry over that fool? He is not worth my tears; I have bigger issues to worry about.

Who would think that life got so difficult after twenty? Only if we can rewind the hands of time, but that can only be a dream. My twenty-third birthday was fast approaching, a reminder that I wasn’t getting any younger.

I arrived at my place a few minutes before nine p.m.; although it was a moderate house, I lived in a very poor neighborhood, a place Jennifer and I had secured right after college. I had thought I would find a job immediately and, after three months, move into a better apartment, but who am I kidding? This is fucking New York City!

It has been a year and six months since our graduation, and here I am, still jobless. Well, not entirely; I have tried the petty jobs that are not even suitable for a person with my degrees, but you know what they say: when life gives you lemons, you make lemonades.

I paid the taxi as I got to my place, and I dragged my small ass across the fence. When I arrived at the door, I noticed a shadow by the side of the apartment. I freaked out and stepped back, right before I recognized him.

"Jimmy!" I yelled.

"Hello, Ann," he said softly in his deceptive voice, those charming eyes staring into my soul. No, not today!

"What are you doing here?" I yelled and clenched my fists.

"You blocked my number; I wanted to talk." He spoke softly, trying to lure me in with that seductive voice.

I scoffed with a glazed expression and shook my head. "There is nothing to talk about; leave my house!" I muttered and immediately proceeded to unlock my door.

"Just give me a few minutes," he pleaded, but I turned a deaf ear to him, afraid of what he could accomplish in those minutes.

If I did give him a listening ear, I would be on the bed, moaning his name, in less than ten minutes. Yes, that is how good he is with words, but I won't let myself be deceived anymore by this snake.

I rushed inside and locked him out immediately. I wasn’t going to hear a word he said; I don’t even want to see him.

Tossing my handbag onto the couch—a habit I couldn’t rid myself of, I headed straight for the bathroom. After using the bathroom, I washed my hands and returned to the sitting room.

The knocking had stopped, and so I believed that Jimmy had left. Even he wouldn’t be that shameless; moreover, that endless knocking would have only attracted the neighbors and eventually the police. As a black dude, he knows too well to stay away from the police.

I ventured into the kitchen to find food, and my cupboard was almost empty, which scared me. If I run out of groceries and food items, I might end up on the streets. I thought America was the perfect country, but I guess that doesn’t apply to immigrants, or maybe I just had terrible luck.

An immigrant… That is right; I am a small-town girl from Italy. I moved to New York for my college education, and I have remained here since graduation. There is nothing there for me back at home—poor parents who had to take loans to send me to school, no siblings, and no friends. My story might not be the saddest, but it will sure make that list.

I was still contemplating what to have for dinner when I heard another knock on the door. Fucking son of a bitch! I want to hit him with a banana!

I cursed and stormed towards the door. Maybe I should give him a piece of my mind.

"Don’t you get it? Fuck off!" I yelled as I pushed the door open, but then I froze. It wasn’t Jimmy at the door; it was Mr. Jordan! Oh, my good lord, I am done!

**

A Plaything For CEO Blackwood

A Plaything For CEO Blackwood

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