Office heat (2)

Chapter 2

I stayed on my knees longer than I should have, staring up at him while my pulse hammered so hard I could feel it in my throat.

Adrian didn’t move right away. He just looked down at me like he was giving me one last chance to stand up and walk out. The locked door clicked softly in the silence. Somewhere far down the hall a cleaning cart rattled and then faded. We were alone. Completely.

“Last chance,” he said, voice low. “You get up right now and this ends. No one ever knows. You keep your job. You keep your reputation. We pretend this never happened.”

My hands were shaking against my thighs. Every rational part of my brain screamed at me to take the out. To stand. To leave. To protect the life I had built.

I didn’t move.

Adrian’s eyes darkened. He reached down, slow, and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. The touch was light. Almost careful. It still sent a jolt straight through me.

“Open.”

I did.

He unbuckled his belt with one hand, the other still resting against my jaw, keeping my face tilted up. The sound of the zipper was obscenely loud in the quiet office. When he freed himself he was already hard, thick, the head flushed and glistening. My mouth went dry.

“Look at me while you do it,” he said.

I kept my eyes on his as I leaned in and took him into my mouth.

The first slide of him across my tongue made my stomach flip. He was heavier than I expected, hotter. I took him deeper than I meant to and choked once, eyes watering. Adrian didn’t pull back. He just held still, letting me adjust, thumb stroking once along my cheekbone like a quiet reward.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Breathe through your nose. Take what you can.”

I did.

I worked him slowly at first, learning the weight of him, the way he filled my mouth. Every time I looked up his eyes were still on me, intense and focused, like nothing else in the building existed. The praise, when it came, was quiet and devastating.

“Good. Just like that. You’re doing so well for me.”

The words went straight to my cock. I shifted on my knees, trying to ease the pressure, but there was no relief. Adrian noticed. Of course he did. A faint, almost cruel smile touched the corner of his mouth.

“Desperate already,” he said. “And I’ve barely touched you.”

He pushed deeper. Not rough. Just firm. Claiming. My eyes watered again. Spit slipped down my chin. I didn’t pull away. I kept my gaze locked on his even when my throat burned and my lungs started to ache. Every time I took him farther he gave me another quiet word of praise that made my stomach tighten.

When he finally pulled out I was breathing hard, lips swollen, a string of spit still connecting us. My cock was so hard it hurt, trapped against the fabric of my pants.

Adrian looked down at me for a long moment, chest rising a little faster than before. Then he reached for my tie, loosened it, and used it to pull me up to my feet. I stumbled slightly. He steadied me with a hand on my waist, then turned me and walked me backward until the edge of his desk pressed against the backs of my thighs.

“Hands on the desk.”

I obeyed.

He stepped in close behind me. Close enough that I felt the heat of him through our clothes. One of his hands slid around to the front of my pants, cupped me hard enough to make me gasp, and squeezed once.

“This is what staying late gets you,” he said against the side of my neck. “You’ve been hard for me for weeks, haven’t you?”

I nodded, forehead dropping toward the polished wood.

“Words.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes… I’ve been hard for you.”

He made a low sound of approval and opened my belt. The zipper came next. Then cool air as he pushed my pants and briefs down to mid-thigh. My cock sprang free, already leaking. Adrian wrapped his hand around me and stroked once, slow, from base to tip, spreading the wetness.

I bit down on a moan.

“Quiet,” he said. “The glass isn’t soundproof.”

I nodded again, breathing through my nose, trying to stay silent while he stroked me with maddening patience. His other hand slid up under my shirt, palm flat against my stomach, holding me in place. Every time his thumb dragged over the head of my cock my hips jerked. He didn’t speed up. He just kept that same steady rhythm until my arms started shaking and my breath came in short, broken pulls.

“You’re close,” he observed. Not a question.

“Please—”

“Not yet.”

He let go of me completely. The loss of contact was so sudden I almost groaned in protest. I heard the soft click of a bottle. Lube. Then his slick fingers were between my legs, pressing against me, circling, testing.

I tensed.

Adrian’s mouth brushed the back of my neck. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He pushed one finger in slow. The stretch burned in the best way. I dropped my head between my shoulders and tried to stay quiet while he worked me open. A second finger joined the first. He curled them, found the spot that made my knees threaten to buckle, and rubbed it with deliberate, ruthless patience.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Language,” he said, almost amused. Then he added a third finger and the amusement disappeared. “You’re so tight. Going to feel perfect around my cock.”

I was shaking by the time he pulled his fingers out. Empty. Aching. Desperate in a way that scared me.

Adrian stepped back just long enough to slick himself. Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against me. He didn’t push in right away. He stayed there, letting me feel the heat and the pressure, one hand firm on my hip.

“Tell me you want it.”

My voice came out rough. “I want it.”

“Ask properly.”

“Please. Please fuck me. I need you inside me.”

He pushed in.

One long, controlled thrust until he was fully seated and I was stretched around him so tightly I could barely breathe. The burn was sharp. The fullness stole every coherent thought. He stayed still, giving me time, breathing hard against the back of my neck.

“Okay?” he asked, quieter than before.

I nodded.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes. Move. Please move.”

He did.

Deep. Steady. Every thrust dragged against that spot inside me until my arms gave out and I collapsed onto my forearms on the desk. Papers scattered. A pen rolled off and hit the floor. I didn’t care. Adrian’s hand slid up my spine, gripped the back of my neck, and held me down while he fucked me with the same controlled intensity he used in everything else.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured. “Look at you. Bent over my desk like you belong here.”

I came the first time without a hand on my cock, body locking up, a broken sound muffled against my own arm. He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, slower, deeper, until the oversensitivity made me whimper and push back for more at the same time.

“Again,” he said. “You’re going to come again before I fill you.”

His hand wrapped around my cock. The dual sensation was too much. Too good. I came a second time with his name in my mouth and tears stinging my eyes, spilling over his fist and onto the desk calendar.

Only then did he let go of his control.

His rhythm turned harder. The sound of skin on skin filled the office. His grip on my hip tightened hard enough to bruise. When he came it was with a low, rough sound against my shoulder and a sharp thrust that buried him as deep as he could go. Heat flooded me. He stayed there, pulsing, breathing hard, forehead pressed to the back of my neck.

We stayed locked together for a long time.

Eventually he pulled out slow. I felt the warm slide of him leaving me, the mess that followed. He didn’t step away. He just rested both hands on the desk on either side of me, caging me in, and pressed a quiet kiss to the side of my throat.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, voice still rough. “Then go home.”

I straightened on unsteady legs, pulled my clothes back into place with shaking hands, and tried to make myself look like I hadn’t just been thoroughly fucked over my boss’s desk.

Adrian watched me the entire time.

When I reached for the door he spoke again.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Stay late again.”

I looked back at him.

He was already straightening his shirt, calm and composed, like the last twenty minutes hadn’t just rearranged everything I thought I knew about myself.

“And leave the door unlocked when you arrive,” he added. “I’ll lock it myself.”

I walked out of the office with his cum still leaking down my thigh and the terrifying, electric certainty that I was already going to do exactly what he asked.