My hot boss I

The office was quiet, eerily quiet. Most of the staff had already gone home, and only the low hum of electronics remained, blending with the occasional flicker of city lights beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. I adjusted my glasses and sat up straighter in my chair, determined to finish the final touches on the campaign layout due first thing tomorrow morning.

I was only three weeks into my position at Blackwood & Co., one of the most competitive design firms in the city, and already I felt like I was barely keeping my head above water. But I wasn’t a quitter. No matter how late it got.

I was so focused on adjusting the typography on my screen that I didn’t notice the sound of footsteps behind me, until a low, velvety voice cut through the silence.

“You’re still here.”

Every muscle in my body tensed. I turned my head slowly, and there he was. Adrian Blackwood. CEO. Creative Director. Six-foot-something of raw, tailored authority. Midnight-black hair curling just at his collar, storm-gray eyes, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Every time I saw him, my thoughts spiraled into dangerous places. And now he was standing at my desk, jacket slung over one arm, shirt sleeves rolled up, forearms on display—veins, skin, temptation.

“I—uh—yes,” I stammered, my voice a little too high. “I wanted to finish the campaign mockups before the morning review. You mentioned the client’s coming in at ten.”

His eyes didn’t leave my face. “You didn’t have to stay this late.”

“I wanted to,” I said quickly, blinking too much. “To make a good impression.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile. Something darker. Something knowing.

“Well,” he said, stepping closer, “you’ve made quite the impression already.”

My heart skipped. Was that… flirting? No. It had to be my imagination. He was my boss. Out of my league. Completely off-limits. And yet, he leaned casually against the edge of my desk, and then, oh God! He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’ve noticed how hard you work, Emma,” he said, voice low and rough. “How focused you are. It’s admirable.”

My mouth went dry. “I just… want to do well.”

“You are doing well.” His tone held something warm, but edged with heat. “In fact… I find myself wondering if your dedication extends beyond design work.”

My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, watching me like he could see past my buttoned-up blouse, past my discipline and carefully measured professionalism. “I mean… whether you’re as obedient outside the project brief as you are in meetings.”

My breath caught. That wasn’t my imagination. That was deliberate. A challenge. My thighs pressed together, heat blooming fast across my chest.

“I…” I hesitated, pulse thudding in my ears. “That depends.”

“On what?” he asked, leaning in. His hand settled on the back of my chair, caging me in.

“On whether you’re asking as my boss,” I whispered, “or as a man.”

His lips brushed the shell of my ear.

“Both.”

God help me.

My lips parted, but no sound came out. The space between us crackled, electric, hungry, undeniable. Slowly, I turned my chair toward him, facing him fully. I didn’t know what I was doing. Only that I didn’t want him to stop. Didn’t want to keep pretending I didn’t want him.

He studied me like a wolf circling prey, patient and precise. When I didn’t pull away, he lifted my chin with two fingers.

“You know this changes everything,” he murmured.

“I don’t care,” I breathed.

And that was all it took.

He pulled me to my feet, his mouth crashing down on mine with a force that stole my breath. His lips tasted like mint and something far more dangerous. His kiss was hungry, like he’d been holding back forever. His hands slid to my waist, then up my back as he walked me backward until I hit the glass wall overlooking the city. The streets below blurred into glowing fireflies. Nothing mattered.

One by one, he undid the buttons of my blouse, slowly, deliberately, until the soft fabric slipped open and my bra was exposed. His mouth moved along my neck, down to the swell of my breasts, lips burning every inch of skin they touched.

“You don’t wear lace to work unless you want someone to see it,” he growled, fingers sliding beneath the delicate fabric.

“I didn’t. . . know anyone would. . . ”

“Liar.” He cut me shut! It's true, I lied! I had wanted him to notice it.

He tugged the cups down and took one nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling until it peaked and sent sparks down my spine. I clutched his shoulder for balance, nails digging into the fabric.

“Please…” I whispered, not sure what I was begging for.

“Please what?” he rasped, voice like silk over steel. “Use your words.”

“I want you,” I said, breathless.

He stepped back just long enough to lift me onto the desk, shoving my skirt up to my hips. One sharp tug, and my panties slid down my legs. His eyes darkened as he stared at me.

“All this for me?” he murmured.

“Yes, sir.”

That word changed everything. His pupils blew wide, restraint snapping in an instant.

He dropped to his knees between my thighs, spreading me open. His mouth was on me before I could speak, tongue moving with skill and precision that shattered me. He held me firm, not letting me squirm away as he devoured me like a man starved.

Eating me till I came hard, crying out his name, legs trembling against his shoulders. But he didn’t stop. Didn't stop until he was satisfied.

He stood, belt already unbuckled, cock freed and hard, thick, already leaking.

“Lie back.”

I obeyed instantly, heat flushing across my whole body.

He didn’t tease. Didn’t waste a second.

With one hard thrust, he filled me. I cried out, arching as he stretched me open. Adrian grabbed my hips and drove into me again and again, the wet slap of skin echoing in the still office. My legs wrapped around him, holding him close, anchoring him inside me. And the thought of someone finding my unapproachable boss only added a thrill to my insides.

“You feel incredible,” he groaned, lips brushing my jaw. “So tight. So warm.”

I tangled my fingers in his hair, desperate for more. Every thrust sent pleasure ricocheting through me, building fast.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I met his gaze, and the sheer hunger in his eyes undid me.

I shattered, body tightening around him, release blinding. He grunted, thrust once more, and came deep inside me, the heat of it overwhelming.

For a moment, all I could hear was our heavy breathing.

He stayed there, inside me, forehead resting against mine, hands still gripping my waist.

Eventually, he pulled back and helped me sit up. My blouse hung open. My hair was a mess. My lips are swollen. My whole body buzzing.

“Emma,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over my mouth. “This isn’t over.”

I swallowed, heart still racing.

“I know,” I whispered.

And I wanted more.