Built for Temptation

Built for Temptation

samanthaalves402

33.4k Words / Ongoing
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Introduction

Zelda always knew what she wanted. A young Afro-Latina with fiery passion and ironclad determination, she spent her life fighting to carve out her place in the world. Her dream? To stand out in the male-dominated construction industry and prove she was born for success.

But accepting an internship at the powerful Ozborne Industries opened more than just the door to her dream career. It unlocked another door—one filled with forbidden desires and scorching fantasies. Two bosses. Two dominant men. Two intoxicating obstacles in her path to success.

She always believed she could keep work and pleasure separate... until they showed her that some rules are meant to be broken.
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samanthaalves402

Chapter 1

December 8th

"Son of a bitches!" The small woman, walking around the house, let the Latin blood from her mother run hot through her veins. In the living room, she paced back and forth across the small room, unable to believe what was written on the damned paper in front of her. "Shit, shitty life, what do I do now, Mr. Piter?"

Her eyes went to the dog, who was calmly watching her, stretching his paws. He yawned, laying his head back on the couch, not even giving a sign that he cared about Zel's desperation.

"Mother is going to kill me when she finds out about this... How could you be so stupid, Zelda?" She shouted in anger, crumpling the paper as her body slid onto the couch beside her dog.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, sweetie.

Zel felt her entire body protest at the small reminder of the cursed voices in her ears. How could she have thought this would end well? What started as curiosity turned into fire, and now, it carried an eternal consequence. Soon, her rage threw every feeling her body desired to the ground as she stood up angrily. She wished the damned memories wouldn't interfere with her anger, but her body collapsed once again. She could still smell the woody cologne mixed with musk in her nostrils. The feline, blue, and warm eyes complemented the square, masculine face, blending with the slightly platinum strands of gray mixed with the black of Tauro Ozborne's military-cut hair.

At the other end of the spear that pierced her destiny, mixed with a big shot of tequila with strawberries, was Bruce Ozborne's woody fragrance. The bastard should be forbidden from wearing that cologne that could make a nun burn under her habit. His black eyes, contrasting with his pale skin and his night-colored hair, made her want to cry the moment they landed on her in that dominant way.

And the cherry on top: the damned wet panties and her naughty vagina that couldn't contain the curiosity from the rumors she'd been hearing around the company. The desires she had for the beautiful, ruthless men... She scolded herself for being so foolish; she should have just fucked around like it was a damn farewell party to end her three long years of internship at Ozborne, she shouldn’t have mixed her heart into it.

"Motherfucking bastards." She let a solitary tear fall down her face, feeling her heart, which had been patched up piece by piece, break again. "I was such a fool, Mr. Piter, why did I forget the damn birth control?"

The old caramel-colored labrador pushed his large head into her lap, rubbing his snout on her stomach with his big, expressive eyes.

A form of consolation to the poor, lonely, and crying owner.


Ozborne Company Expansion Conference, Las Vegas.

POV Zelda

There was no way I couldn’t feel amazed to be part of something as big as the annual expansion conference of the company. I was radiant when I left Dylan Ozborne's office three days ago. The powerful man, one of the three pillars of the Ozborne company, told me I would be attending this year. As an intern in civil business administration, this was my biggest dream: being in front of several large, rising multi-billion dollar companies, but the main thing was having the Ozborne badge, one of the largest in the civil construction industry. I was sure I wasn’t the first choice, nor the second. I was more of a last-minute choice since most of the employees were refusing to travel with Tauro and Bruce, the two pillars along with Dylan. Everyone knew about their infamous reputation for being tough; they made secretaries cry after just one minute in their office. But the truth was, I couldn’t refuse this invitation because, with this event, I would end my internship on a high note, boosting my graduation even further. Plus, it would give me the best chance to grow in my field. I was going in with strength and faith, even though I knew that being among the two relentless men would be a test of patience.

I remembered the first time I saw the two cousins walk past me three years ago. One was a tall man, around 32 years old, with a stern expression. He carried a musky scent that made my vagina cheer with excitement as I looked at this man, 6’5”, walking in a straight line with his tight jeans and a black shirt hidden by a brown aviator jacket. His muscular body hid hours and hours of hard work in those arms and broad, firm back like an armored tank. His hair was cut military style, and the sharp jawline… He glanced at me, for only a few seconds, with feline, cruel eyes, a blue so deep that I could swear this man could read my soul.

I didn’t exactly fit the reserved nun-like stereotype, but I couldn’t boast about an active sex life either. I had a fling in high school where I lost my virginity, and it didn’t last long since I got the scholarship to college, but the poor guy didn’t. In college, I had a few kisses and make-outs in the back seats of cars in the library parking lot. I didn’t suffer from any kind of sexual frustration; I was extremely healthy and curious about the act, but my focus on studies and the career I wanted made me put relationships on the back burner. In the second semester, I met Octor, a remarkably intelligent guy; we didn’t have any overwhelming passion, but I liked the way we managed to combine friendship with need, as it was our style to stay in the labs and the library studying.

But right there, at that moment, I knew I had never felt heat like that.

It was obvious that, for me, an intern about to finish college at the mere age of 22, he was a walking dose of testosterone messing with my libido.

His eyes moved away, returning to his path, and quickly, right behind him, the big door opened. A virile man in a black Armani suit walked casually with the phone to his ear. I practically purred as I observed the large, firm hand that came out of his pocket as he stopped, looking at his wrist. His tall body was cruel in every athletic detail. Men like him should be illegal. His jet-black hair shone in contrast to his fair skin. I saw the thick lines of his eyebrows, his eyes, as black as his hair, had, as accomplices, a fine, imposing nose along with a beautiful, appetizing mouth. I could be devoured by his mouth without a complaint. I let my gaze wander over his body, his long arms matching his legs. Anyone would swear he had just stepped out of a GQ magazine: the dress pants, part of his suit, didn’t hide the bulge too well. I wished I had seen more cocks in my life. The two I had seen in person weren’t all that, literally. On a scale from 0 to 10 in making me orgasm, Octor would probably get a 3; the other one was better left unsaid. I imagined myself with that man. I would even accept anal as I did with my friend. My face heated up with the thought; I liked imagining it, but my nose scrunched up imagining the pain along with the pleasure. And, as always curious, I lost myself thinking more about it.

He probably thought I had some mental problem because, as soon as I stopped undressing his body with my eyes, returning to his face, smiling, I realized he was staring at me. I wiped the smile off my face the moment I focused on his raised eyebrow and dark eyes. I swallowed hard as I ran out as fast as my legs could take me. And that was how I had my panties wet on my first day of work. And yes, they stayed that way for the years that followed.

I just kept looking at them from my desk, or when they passed by me in the coffee room. The damn place was always filled with the scent of potent men. They were always serious, one glued to the other. And I would find myself studying them like mortal gladiators. I personally felt like a National Geographic researcher, seeing myself so close to the great wild animals. The difference between them and actual animals was that they wore suits and walked firmly on their legs, with their predator eyes annihilating every helpless prey or unaware employee who stood idle during work hours with just a raised eyebrow. On some days, I could swear I even heard the roars of big felines around the office, but my favorite part of the studies was getting to admire the beautiful front view of Tauro’s tight jeans, imagining in my fertile mind the size of what was hidden there. Bruce, on the other hand, gave me the best view of a masculine, firm behind, which made me think about what would happen if I bit it.

One thing was for sure: employees loved gossiping about their bosses, and when a certain conversation reached my ears, I discovered that the cousins were linked in a peculiar and tempting way, sharing more than just the car keys. And yes... the girlfriends. This ended up further igniting my curious brain, leading me into the dark world of morally questionable porn sites.

I tried not to seem too clumsy and made an effort to walk the fine line where I felt good and not scandalously attention-grabbing. My chocolate skin, inherited from my father, along with my mother’s curly black hair, left me stuck between two worlds. I didn’t belong to either. I wasn’t Latina with golden skin, straight hair, and warm eyes, nor black like my father’s family. My skin was a middle ground, as my aunt used to say... It was a big mess. That was the truth. Although I loved the administrative field, I had to perfect my mother’s passion for makeup, who always told me: “Those entering the business world always need to dress with a beautiful armor.” The little Latina woman with expressive eyes always made me laugh.

I may have been just an intern, but I made sure to always present myself in the best way possible. After all, as my father always warned me, we never know when our future calls. Never vulgar: my tailored skirt, two inches above the knee, always paired beautifully with my dark blazer. The heels, my eternal weakness, took up all the money from my internship, which was only split with household expenses.

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