Deep Inside (Erotica short story collections)

The office was too quiet for this late in the evening. Floors below, the last cleaners had gone home. The city buzzed outside the glass wall, but up here, everything was still. Too still.

Eva’s heels clicked on the polished marble as she crossed the space with calm she didn’t feel. Her pulse jumped, shallow in her throat. The elevator doors behind her closed with a soft hiss, sealing her in.

Mr. Callum Thorne. CEO. Billionaire. Bastard.

She should’ve been gone hours ago. Her audit report had been submitted by noon, but the man had requested a meeting after dark. The message had come through his assistant, cold and clipped: Mr. Thorne wants to review the figures in private.

Private.

That word had curled under her skin all day.

His office was at the far end, its door wide open. He sat behind his desk, black shirt rolled up to the elbows, tie loose, silver watch catching the light.

And he was watching her. Like he always did. Like he owned every inch of her.

“Miss Rowe,” he said, voice deep and quiet. “Close the door.”

She did, slowly, hand on the cool brass handle. When it clicked shut, her chest lifted with a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held.

He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Have a seat.”

She didn’t sit. Not yet. She stepped closer, heels silent on the rug now. His gaze dragged down her body, hungry. Calculating.

“You asked for an audit,” she said, holding the folder in her hand. “You didn’t really care about the numbers.”

His brow lifted slightly. “And what makes you say that?”

“You don’t bring interns to your office at midnight for numbers, Mr. Thorne.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. She stepped around the desk. His chair squeaked as he leaned back, surprised.

“You think I called you up here for... this?” he asked, voice tighter now.

“I know you did.” Her voice was soft, almost sweet. She reached for his tie, fingers brushing the silk. “You’ve been looking at me since I started. Every meeting. Every elevator ride. You act like you don’t see me, but I see the way your cock twitches when I say yes, sir.”

His nostrils flared. But he didn’t stop her.

“You think I don’t notice when you linger behind me at the printer?” she whispered. “You want me to think I’m powerless. That I’m just an intern. But you brought me here for a reason.”

He gripped the arms of his chair. His breath was shallow now. She straddled his lap slowly, hips sinking down until she could feel the hard line of him beneath her.

“Tell me to stop,” she said.

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Her fingers slipped the knot of his tie loose. “You think I’m here to obey you, Mr. Thorne. But tonight, I’m not your intern.”

She leaned close. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

He opened his mouth, maybe to protest, maybe to command her to get off him, but she kissed him before he could speak. Hard, deep, with months of tension pouring from her mouth to his. He groaned low in his throat, cock twitching under her.

She reached between them and undid his belt with one hand, slow and teasing, her fingers brushing over his bulge deliberately. He shivered, jaw clenched.

“Still in charge?” she whispered against his mouth.

His answer was a growl, but it wasn’t resistance. It was surrender wrapped in frustration. His cock was already thick in her palm, hot and pulsing. She stroked him once, twice, then stood, tugged her pencil skirt up over her hips, and pushed her soaked panties aside.

He looked up at her, lips parted, helpless.

She didn’t wait.

She sank down on him in one smooth motion, taking him in deep. They both gasped—her fingers clawed into his shoulders, his hands gripped her thighs like he was about to lose his mind.

“Fuck,” he bit out, voice hoarse. “You’re so—fuck.”

“Tight?” she whispered with a smile, grinding down, slow and cruel. “Wet?”

He cursed again and tried to move, tried to thrust up into her, but she pressed a hand to his chest.

“No,” she said. “You stay still.”

He stared at her, breathing hard, sweat starting to bead at his temple.

“You like being used, don’t you?” she whispered, riding him slow, deliberate. “All that money, all that power. But this is what you needed.”

He grabbed the edge of the desk behind him like it was the only thing anchoring him. She clenched around him and his whole body jerked.

“I should ruin you,” she said sweetly. “Make you beg.”

His mouth opened again, breath ragged. “Do it.”

That one whisper changed everything.

She picked up speed, hips snapping harder now, wet heat slapping skin to skin. His control was gone, the tension in his arms shaking.

He looked like he might lose it. And that was what she wanted.

“You want to come,” she said, voice taunting.

His nod was tight. Desperate.

“But you don’t come unless I say so.”

His groan was strangled. His hands finally reached for her hips, holding her tighter as she fucked him, his control breaking with every breath.

She leaned in, bit the line of his jaw. “You gonna come in me like a good boy?”

“Yes,” he gritted.

“Say it.”

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped. “Please. Let me.”

She smiled and squeezed tighter around him.

“Come for me.”

He did.

He came with a strangled growl, thrusting up into her helplessly as she rode him through it. She didn’t stop, not until he was trembling, sweat slicking his chest, breath gone.

She finally slowed, leaned in, licked a drop of sweat from his neck.

“Still the boss?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His body had turned to putty beneath her.

She climbed off him, fixing her skirt with slow fingers.

As she turned to leave, she looked back once over her shoulder.

“Next time, maybe you’ll ask nicely.”