My Boss was indeed My One Night Stand

Scott’s POV

I sat on my chair like a fucking sex slave waiting to be punished by his master.

I sat there staring at the same email for the tenth time, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my sore ass. Elliot Travis. CEO. I could bet with my life, he is the same man who had me bent over nights ago, choking me while he bred me deep like he owned every inch of my body.

Or could I be wrong?

I rubbed my eyes, trying to convince myself I wasn’t losing it. Maybe there were two Elliot Travis in Brooklyn. Maybe the quiet, intense guy from the party who fucked me raw twice was just some regular hot stranger with the same name and same steel-gray eyes. Yeah, right. I couldn't even buy that bullshit.

I’d spent the whole day jumping every time someone said “Mr. Travis.” Every meeting, every email signature made my cock twitch. He’d looked me dead in the eyes in that office and pretended I was nothing. Two nights ago he’d railed me like a beast.

What kind of man does that?

I glanced at the clock. 8:50 PM. Everybody had gone home hours ago. I should’ve left too, but that new email from his office kept me here: l’d stay late to review your work…. My office. 9:00 PM.

This was my chance to confirm once and for all.

I stood up, legs shaky, and adjusted my shirt to hide the fresh hickeys he’d left on my collarbone. My hole still throbbed from how deep he’d gone.

By the time I knocked on his door at exactly 9:00, I was pissed, horny, and terrified.

“Come in.”

I stepped inside. Elliot stood by the window, his sleeves rolled up, revealing those tattoos I’d traced with my tongue two nights ago. The office lights behind him made him look like some dark god.

“Close the door,” he said.

I did.

“So,” I started, bold as always, even though my voice cracked a little. “Are we pretending again, or are you finally going to admit you’re the same guy who fucked me senseless?”

Elliot’s gray eyes darkened. In two strides he was on me, slamming me back against the door, mouth crashing down on mine. The kiss was brutal, teeth and tongue, pure hunger. I moaned into it, hands fisting his shirt, kissing him back just as hard.

“You talk too fucking much,” he growled, he always said that. Am I that talkative?

“Then make me shut up, Sir.”

That word broke him.

He spun me around, shoved me face-down over his desk, and yanked my pants down roughly. No slow teasing tonight. He spat on his hand, rubbed it over his thick cock, and pushed in raw, one brutal thrust that made me cry out.

“Fuck, Elliot!”

“So tight,” he snarled. “I’m gonna make sure you are full of me tonight.”

“Yes…ahh…yes, Sir!”

He fucked me like a man who hated how much he needed it. Hard, punishing strokes. One hand wrapped around my throat from behind, squeezing just right, making my vision spark while his thick cock rearranged my insides. Every thrust hit my prostate dead-on, sending lightning up my spine.

“Take it,” he growled, hips snapping faster. “This is what you do to me. I don’t repeat holes. But I can’t stop thinking about breeding this greedy hole.”

I pushed back against him, defiant even while getting destroyed. “Then stop lying to yourself and fuck me like you mean it.”

He lost control completely. He pulled out, flipped me onto my back on the desk, and pushed back in, folding me in half. My legs over his shoulders, his intense eyes locked on mine as he pounded down into me. The wet, filthy sound of his heavy balls slapping my ass filled the office. My cock leaked all over my stomach, untouched.

Elliot leaned down, biting my neck hard enough to leave another mark. “You’re going to feel me for days,” he rasped, choking me lightly while thrusting deep. “I’m gonna pump you so full it drips down your legs while you sit at your desk tomorrow.”

The dirty talk, the roughness, the way his powerful body dominated mine, it was too much. I came hard with a broken scream, shooting across my chest and chin. My hole clenched around him like a vice.

Elliot groaned deep, buried himself to the hilt, and came. Thick, hot pulses flooded me, rope after rope of cum painting my insides. He kept thrusting through it, pushing every drop deeper, breeding me like he wanted it to stick.

For a moment after, he stayed inside me, forehead pressed to mine, breathing ragged. His hand loosened on my throat and gently stroked my jaw.

Then he pulled out, tucked himself away.

“This was a mistake,” he said coldly, avoiding my eyes. “It won’t happen again. Go home, Scott.”

The words hit like a slap. I slid off the desk on shaky legs, cum leaking down my thighs as I pulled my pants up. “ I know you’d call me again. You want this as much as I do, deny it.”

He turned toward the window. “Leave.”

I wanted to scream at him. Instead, I grabbed my stuff and walked out, legs sore. The entire ride home in the cab, his cum continued to drip out of me, soaking my underwear.

My tiny apartment felt smaller than usual. I showered, but the hot water didn’t wash away the confusion. I collapsed on my couch in just boxers, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment.

Who the hell was Elliot Travis? Who did he think he is?

My skin was flushed just thinking about him. My nipples were already getting hard. What manner of sweet-bitter feeling is this?

My phone rang, bringing me back to reality. It was an unknown number. I almost didn’t pick up, but something made me swipe.

“Yeah?”

“Scott McAllen?” A rough, familiar voice growled. “Raymond here. You remember me, right?”

My stomach dropped. Raymond. One of the worst loan sharks who’d financed Mom’s last phase of cancer treatments before I lost her.

“I… yeah. Look, I just got a new job. I’d soon start making monthly payments…”

“Save the bullshit,” he cut me off. “Forty-seven thousand dollars. That’s what you owe me alone, plus interest piling up every week. You’ve been dodging my texts. I’m an impatient man, kid. You have two weeks to get me at least $10,000 as part payment, or I start collecting in other ways. Understand?”

The line went dead before I could answer.

I dropped the phone, hands shaking. Forty-seven grand. On top of everything else. I lost my mom and now left with debt that was crushing me, and the only man who made me feel alive was treating me like a dirty secret.

I curled up on the couch, sore, leaking, and overwhelmed. Part of me wanted to text Elliot. The other part knew he’d probably just call it another mistake.

But as I lay there in the dark, one dangerous thought kept circling:

What if I made him need me so badly he couldn’t pretend anymore? Maybe I could get the 10k grand I needed.