Mag-log inElias came back three days later.Maya heard the doorbell from her room and felt her stomach drop before she could stop it. She stayed upstairs longer than necessary, listening to her mother’s bright greeting and the low, familiar sound of his voice. Only when she was sure she had her expression under control did she go down.He was already in the living room, seated on the couch like he belonged there. Black shirt again, sleeves rolled, the same calm presence that had knocked the fight out of her the first time. Her mother was in the kitchen getting drinks. That left the two of them alone for a moment.Maya stopped at the bottom of the stairs.Elias looked up. His gaze moved over her once—jeans, oversized sweater, hair down—before settling on her face.“Maya.”Just her name again. Same quiet weight as before.“You’re back,” she said.“I am.”She walked past him toward the kitchen, refusing to linger. Her mother handed her a glass of water with a hopeful little smile that Maya didn’t
“Maya!”Her mother’s voice carried from the kitchen, bright with the kind of hope Maya had learned to distrust.Maya stayed on her bed a few seconds longer, staring at the ceiling, before she pushed herself up and walked downstairs. The smell of something sweet baking filled the hallway. Her mother stood at the counter in a soft floral dress, hair done, makeup careful. She looked younger when she was this excited. That only made it worse.“He’s coming in twenty minutes,” her mother said, turning to her. “Behave… please. I know you care about me. I know you don’t want me hurt. But I really think he’s the one this time.”Maya leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms.“You said that the last time. And the time before. And the time before that. And guess what? Every single one of them ended up assholes.” Her voice stayed even, but the frustration underneath was sharp. “At this point you have a never-ending bad taste in men. I’m tired of seeing you hurt, and I swear if this one hurt
Xavier picked her up at seven exactly. Milie opened the door in a black dress that ended mid-thigh and hugged her body without being obvious about it. His eyes moved over her once, slow and thorough, before he spoke. “Good choice.” The restaurant was quiet, expensive, and private enough that no one from the office would stumble in. Xavier had requested a corner table. He ordered for both of them without asking, then sat back and looked at her like he had all night and no intention of wasting it. Conversation stayed surface-level at first — work, the Singapore deal, nothing that would give away what they had been doing in his office for weeks. But the undercurrent never left. Every time she crossed her legs she felt the residual ache of him. Every time his gaze dropped to her mouth she remembered how he had looked watching her swallow him under the desk. Halfway through the main course his foot found hers under the table and stayed there. “You’re quieter than usual,” he said. “I
Milie sat at her desk the rest of the morning exactly as ordered. Bare under her skirt. Panties locked in the top drawer of Xavier’s desk. The slow, warm leak of his cum a constant, filthy reminder of everything that had happened under the desk and over it. Every time she shifted in her chair the dull ache between her legs flared, and the faint sting across her ass from the spanking made her breath catch. She tried to focus on the Singapore summary. The numbers refused to stay still. By 11:40 she had rewritten the same paragraph four times. His door opened. “Milie. In here.” She stood, smoothed her skirt with slightly unsteady hands, and walked into his office. Xavier closed the door behind her and turned the lock with a quiet, deliberate click. The sound seemed louder than it should have. He didn’t speak immediately. He leaned against the edge of his desk, arms folded, and simply looked at her. The silence stretched long enough that her pulse started to climb. “How does it fee
The international call was scheduled for 9:00 a.m. sharp.Xavier had a two-hour overlapping window with Singapore and London. Camera on. Multiple decision-makers on screen. Important enough that he had told Milie the day before to hold every interruption.She interrupted anyway.At 9:07, while he was mid-sentence about quarterly projections, she slipped into his office without knocking, locked the door, and walked around the desk. Xavier’s eyes flicked to her for half a second — long enough to register the look on her face — before returning to the screen. His voice never wavered.Milie sank to her knees under the desk.He was only half-hard when she freed him. By the time she wrapped her fingers around the shaft and took the head into her mouth, he was fully hard and heavy on her tongue. She worked him slowly at first — soft suction, tongue pressing along the underside, taking him deeper in gradual increments until her nose brushed his abdomen and her eyes watered.On screen someone
Monday morning arrived with the weight of everything left unfinished. Milie stepped out of the elevator onto the executive floor at seven-forty, pulse already unsteady. She had barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes she felt Xavier’s mouth on hers again, then the brutal way she had used her own body afterward trying to burn the need out. It hadn’t worked. She was still aching, still restless, still wet by the time she unlocked the suite and prepared his coffee. Black. One sugar. Eight-thirty sharp. She set the cup on his desk and was turning to leave when the door opened behind her. Xavier walked in looking composed — dark suit, clean shave, the same controlled presence he wore like armor. The only thing that gave him away was the way his eyes moved over her the moment the door clicked shut. Slow. Assessing. Darker than they had any right to be in an office at this hour. “Close it,” he said. Milie closed the door. Xavier locked it without looking away from her. The soft s







