#1 Bestseller in Romantic Erotica
I reach the office before him, and since I’m the first person to arrive, I turn the lights on and head for my desk. By the time I’m sitting down and waiting for my computer to boot up, I notice him sauntering in my direction. I look away but it’s so difficult to ignore his presence; just when I think I’m safe, he stops in front of me.
There’s something in his voice that is magical, taking me to a land where nothing else exists but us. I want to go there, I do, but I’m feeling guilty, violated and ashamed…Should I?
We both know my war paint is worthless, my defiance, futile. I exhale and yet again, surrender, but I’m not moving. I’m placing all my bets on the last ounce of contempt I have for him …until I feel his hand on my upper arm, ready to pull me up, and I know I’ve lost. I follow him to his office voluntarily. Once inside, he closes the glass door behind me and lowers the blinds. Not talking, he’s probably expecting me to say something. But I don’t. There’s nothing to say. Debased, I stare at the floor.
“I need you to come one more time for me, Amelia.”
What? No! Upon hearing his words I straighten up as if someone’s jolted me with a thousand volts of electricity. I look at him with disbelief, but I’m met by his unfazed stare. Spending time with him feels like riding on a self-destructive rollercoaster. I feel dire.
Unperturbed by the sheer panic on my face, he smiles sardonically and touches my elbow, leading me to his desk while I whisper more to myself than to him:
“No?” He’s mocking.
“I can’t… I can’t… This is wrong…” Having guided me to the corner of the desk, facing it, I now feel the ledge pressing neatly between my legs.
“You are going to love this, I promise you.” He whispers into my ear and gently kisses my neck.
Placing a soft gel wrist pillow on the corner of the desk he faintly touches my pubic bone, only to fix the cushion and…my heart skips a beat. My breathing is becoming shallow, betraying me again. He walks around the desk, by the other corner, diagonally, and standing opposite me, he anticipates a feast with his eyes.
“Come to me, Amelia.” He gives me his hand.
I’m lightheaded and confused. I don’t understand.
“Your hands.” He reaches out to me.
I hold his hands in mine and I am now bent over the desk. He pulls me closer into it, the corner jamming between my legs. His desk snugly fills my gap, the one that was craving something hard yesterday.
“Can you come a bit closer?” His voice is dark and sweet.
I shake my head. Satisfied, he places my hands flat on the desk. He comes around to stand behind me, observing my…body, I think. And me….I only just realize I am bent over, my backside up for his pleasure.
“This skirt is perfect. Free and hopeful.”
I’m now looking like I will fuck his desk any minute. My breathing is becoming incredibly erratic and without any prompt, I perk up my behind, and with it I slightly rub myself on the soft gel wrist pillow.
Oh my! Is this what he had in mind?
I’m slowly losing myself in the anticipation when I feel his hands on me. He pulls my skirt up, revealing my legs and my panties.
His touch is playing with my sanity, and I am lost, my body disobeying me again. My bottom perks up into his hand, ready to be fucked, and I slowly start rotating on the corner of the desk, opening my legs wider and falling flat on the gel cushion.
“Do you want me, Amelia? Inside of you?” How does he know I cannot think straight?
“…I do.” And where did this voice come from?
“Show me.” He is standing behind me, petting my bum cheek with one hand, and rubbing himself with the other. “Show me how much you want it.”
I start my rotating dance slowly, attacking his desk, getting turned on by the second. My dress doesn’t allow me to touch my nipples and it’s driving me crazy. I try to pinch them but it’s hard through my bra. Suddenly I’m jolted by a sharp smack on my behind.
“Ahh…” I moan. What was that? Exhilaration and release! Painful. Exciting! Oh my, I haven’t been smacked before in my life. This is…before I have time to think about it I feel another smack.
I moan louder this time, I’m aching in ecstasy while rotating my hips over the corner.
My body opens up to him and while my hips swerve and swing on his desk, I am waiting, ready for penetration. But it’s not coming. My whole being is transforming though his hand on my behind, one moment petting me and the next smacking me, and his raspy voice, driving me mad.
“Oh, Amelia…the things I could do to you…”
He’s restraining himself, I can feel it, and regarding him over my shoulder, I want to scream “Fuck me” at him. Gyrating harder and harder against the desk, I can sense my explosion coming and I know I’m not thinking straight when I want him inside of me. Mounting the desk higher…I’m trembling.
“Please…..fuck me.” I don’t recognize my whining voice.
“Begging, Amelia?” His voice is dark, in control, but his panting is betraying him, he is as aroused as I am and enjoying me like this, feral and helpless.
I’m begging and I can’t take it any longer. My mind will crucify me later but my soul will save me now. He takes a step forward, closing the gap between us and unbuttoning his jeans; he is seriously contemplating fucking me but I can’t hold off any longer. In an unbearable proximity to my culmination, I stop waiting. I explode into rapid thrusts over and over, the desk corner pushing hard into me and I come into millions of pieces, sore from the inflexibility of the desk, almost numb, as if I was fucked for hours.
I look over my shoulder and see him leaning on the wall, having ejaculated into his hand, looking at his cock from under the hair fallen over his eyes. He’s panting quietly, still running his hand up and down his wet shaft.
“Fuck….what am I doing?” he mumbles to himself.
What am I doing? I fall down on the desk in exhaustion and I see it, my mind preparing my crucifixion. Should I run away from here, pretending this never happened, or de-mount the desk, fix my panties, now ruffled from my gyrating, and pull my dress down? Recalling my begging, my face is slowly reaching the colour of a red rose. I cannot possibly look at him. Instead, I want to say something that would justify my behaviour…or maybe his, but nothing makes sense anymore. I pull myself together, straighten my dress and head for the door.
“Amelia…” His regretful voice is painfully resonating in the space.
“Don’t! You…you got what you wanted.”
I raise my hand at him as I leave his office, not wanting to hear anything else. Thank god no one is in.