All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S DANGEROUS GAME : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Sienna smooths down the fabric of her ivory jumpsuit, the tailored fit clinging perfectly to her frame. Her stylists had outdone themselves; the plunging neckline was elegant but not overt, and the wide-legged trousers gave the outfit a regal edge. Her hair, styled in a sleek chignon, left her face bare, emphasizing her sharp cheekbones and the soft makeup that highlighted her features. The look spoke of power, sophistication, and control—everything Sienna wanted to embody today. But for now, all that poise felt like a mask.The crunch of gravel beneath her heels breaks the stillness as she steps out of the car and onto the cemetery path. The air smells of damp earth and the faint sweetness of nearby roses. She moves with purpose, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, as though bracing against the emotional chill seeping into her bones.Her mother’s grave comes into view, its white marble stone gleaming in the late morning light. Sienna pauses, her breath catching. The grave is sur

Sienna clutches her heels tightly against her chest, her breathing shallow as she peers into the darkness of her office. Every instinct tells her to back away, to call for help, but a surge of stubbornness forces her feet to move forward. The silence is deafening, broken only by the faint creak of a chair and the soft shuffle of movement. Whoever it is, they haven’t tried to hide. Ignoring the light switch, Sienna steps further into the room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. She can barely see in the dim light filtering in from the courtyard below. Her heels are a pathetic weapon, but she grips them as if her life depends on it, holding them up like a makeshift shield. "Who’s there?" she demands, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound composed. The shadow in the corner doesn’t respond. Her heart thunders in her chest as she inches closer. Her pulse is a drumbeat in her ears, drowning out rational thought. She raises her head, prepared to confront the i

The faint smell of roses and lilacs lingers in the office, an echo of the bouquet that now lies scattered on the floor. Sienna can’t ignore it, the soft floral scent curling around her senses like an invisible tether, mingling with the heat of Noah’s touch. It’s intoxicating, heightening everything. The press of his hands against her waist, the rough scrape of his stubble against her skin, even the deep timbre of his voice murmuring apologies and promises—it all feels sharper, more vivid. Her body responds instinctively, leaning into him, her lips chasing his as if they’re her lifeline. She’s drowning in him, her breath hitching every time his mouth finds a new place to kiss: the corner of her lips, her jawline, the delicate curve of her neck. But just as their kisses grow more heated, more insistent, she suddenly presses her hands against his chest. He pulls back immediately, his forehead creased with concern as he searches her face. “Is something wrong?” he asks, his voice low

“Oh, my world, YES!” Sienna screams, coming before he’s halfway in. “Noah!” The fullness sends her over the brink. “Uhn! Feel you!” He shoves home, ripping another scream from her. And again. “You would’ve stolen my cum, just like that.” She writhes in her bonds as her orgasm consumes her, numbing her mind. . . . Once she finally falls limp, he bites out, “More?” His muscles quake against her. How badly he must need to come! “Yes!” she gasps. “I will always give you more.” He draws back his hips and grips her around the waist, widening his stance. He’s readying. She fidgets in her bindings. He looks like he’s about to ravage her, and there’s nothing she can do but take it. “Um, Noah—” He yanks her back along his cock while his body rams forward. He yells; she moans from the impact. His position, her position . . . she feels like a sexual plaything. "Maybe I have been missing out on so much," she thinks because the idea puts her right back on the brink. “Your body nee

The jet lands smoothly on the private runway, the scent of saltwater faint in the air as the engines wind down. Sienna steps into the aisle, stretching and shaking off the remnants of her nap. Her bare feet are cold against the polished floor, but her focus is on Noah, who stands ahead, adjusting the sleeves of his clothes. He glances back, offering her his hand. “Ready?” he asks, his voice low, steady. “For Ibiza? Always,” she replies, slipping her hand into his as they descend the steps. But as they approach the tarmac, her steps falter. Standing at the base of the stairs, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers and white roses, is a woman whose presence Sienna never imagined seeing here—Noah’s mother. Sienna’s smile freezes, her expression a polite mask even as her stomach knots. Leaning toward Noah, she whispers, “What’s your mother doing here?” The words come out light, almost playful, but there’s no hiding the tension in her voice. “She’s here to meet us,” Noah repli