HIDDEN DESIRES

Emily walked through the streets of spring valley with a smile on her face. She just bought new lingerie and was about to surprise Ryan. She walked into the living room and ended up being surprised.

She found her bestfriend face the sofa with her back arched while Ryan slammed into her from behind both of them moaning so loudly, it was clear they were enjoying themselves.

Emily suddenly felt like she could not breathe and everything was just too loud but she refused to cry.

She had wasted two years of her life with a scum like Ryan and had spent her entire life with a friend who Betrayed her by fucking her man.

Suddenly she clenched her fingers as rage boiled inside her.

She grabbed the vase on the side table and threw it at them, they were still so engaged in their activity, they didn't notice her presence.

The vase missed and landed on the ground beside them making a loud noise as it smashed into pieces.

They stopped instantly turning around to face her and looking frozen in time as the both of them stopped.

Ethan’s eyes flew open. “Emily, oh fuck…”

Their parts still joined together as guilt swarmed in their eyes.

“T….this is not what you think.” Ryan stuttered

“How dare you?! So this is how you want to repay me Ryan by fucking my best friend?” She screamed.

You fucking disgusting piece of shit!” she screamed.

She grabbed the lamp and threw it at them this time Ryan immediately pushed out of Mia to avoid getting hit.

“Emily, we can explain….” Mia started to speak.

You can explain how long you’ve been fucking my boyfriend behind my back?”

“I… we…”

“Shut up! I don't want to hear anything from the both of you!” Emily grabbed a glass on the table and wanted to hurl it at them.

Baby, calm down…”

She rounded on him. “Don’t you fucking ‘baby’ me!” She kicked the middle table over. The glass on it crashed. A bottle of lube rolled across the carpet, cap loose, leaving a slick trail.

Ethan lunged for her wrists. “Stop destroying my house!”

She twisted free and slapped him hard. The crack echoed and his cheek bloomed red. She was about to break something again when she was suddenly seized.

“Let me go,” she screamed as she struggled with the bodyguards that held her.

“I will not allow you to destroy my home.” A thick smooth voice came from behind her.

She paused, noting the change in the room, the way fear shone in Ryan's eyes as he struggled to dress up.

She still tried to free herself but she was no longer screaming, in the process two of her buttons popped off.

An older man came in front of her, from the portraits she had seen in the house she knew he was Ryan's father.

She held her breath at how handsome he looked. Ryan looked nothing like his hot father.

“What happened?” He asked her, his voice doing something to her insides.

“I walked in to Ryan fucking my best friend on the couch.” She said calmly although she felt nothing calm with the way he looked at her.

Victor raised one hand and the guards froze instantly, with their fingers still locked around her arms.

“Let her go,” Victor said.

They released her. Emily jerked back, clutching the ruined blouse together with shaking hands. Her dark hair stuck to her damp cheeks.

Victor looked at his son, then at Mia. “Both of you get dressed and get out.”

He pointed at Ryan. “I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”

And the He looked at Mia, “I never want to see you in this house again. Understood?”

He asked and Mia nodded instantly.

Ethan opened his mouth to say something.

Victor’s voice dropped lower. “Get out, now.”

They scrambled. Mia snatched her thong from the floor, yanked her dress down. Ethan grabbed his jeans, shirt, shoes. They hurried past Victor and the guards without looking up.

Victor turned back to Emily. His gaze flicked very briefly to the open gap in her blouse, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, then returned to her face.

“Come with me,” he said.

She almost told him to go to hell. But his commanding tone left no room for argument. She followed, heels loud on the hallway runner, still clutching fabric over her breasts.

He led her down the corridor, past abstract paintings and recessed lighting, to a pair of tall oak doors. He pushed them open.

“Sit,” Victor said, nodding toward one of the two deep leather armchairs facing the desk.

Emily dropped into it. The leather felt cool against the bare backs of her thighs where her pencil skirt had ridden up. She crossed her legs tightly, still holding the blouse closed.

Victor circled the desk and sat in his high-backed chair. He leaned forward, forearms resting on the blotter. “I’m sorry you had to see that. And I’m sorry my son lacks even basic decency.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

He watched her steadily. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m furious.”

“I can see that.”

His phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced down, frowning as he tapped the screen.

It was an email sent from a private address with a head line that stated; DO NOT IGNORE.

He opened it, and there was no message body. Just an attachment labeled video.mp4 and one line of text: send 2.5 million to this account by Friday 23:59 or this goes to every business contact, every news outlet, every society page in New York.

Victor hesitated for half a second, then he clicked play connecting the video to the projector.

The footage filled the wall.

It was a hotel suite and there was a blonde woman, maybe in her late twenties, full hips, heavy breasts, bent over the foot of the bed. Black dress shoved up to her waist, red thong dragged down her thighs.

Victor's shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, trousers open and he stood behind her. One hand fisted in her blonde hair, yanking her head back. The other gripped her hip, fingers digging into flesh. His cock was thick, veined, flushed dark while it plunged into her in one long stroke. The wet smack of impact came loud through the speakers.

The woman gasped, then moaned, in a deep, throaty manner. Victor pulled out almost to the tip, then drove back in, hard enough to make her body jolt forward. He set a punishing rhythm with long, deliberate strokes that buried him to the hilt every time. The camera caught the way her ass rippled with each thrust, the way her thighs trembled. His fingers slid around to her clit, rubbing fast, tight circles while he fucked her deeper.

Emily’s breath hitched. Heat surged between her legs, sudden and sharp. Her nipples drew tight against the lace, aching. She shifted in the chair. The movement rubbed her thighs together, pressing against the damp ache building there.

On screen, Victor changed angles, he lifted one of the woman’s knees onto the mattress, opening her wider. He thrust harder, faster. The woman’s moans turned to sharp cries. Her knuckles whitened on the duvet. Sweat beaded along Victor’s forearms, along the column of his throat.

He paused the video. The frozen frame showed him buried deep, hips flush against her ass, hand still tangled in her hair.

Victor cleared his throat. “That was… not intended for anyone else to see. Certainly not you.”

Emily stared at the screen. At the thick shaft stretching the woman open. At the control in his posture, the focus on his face.

“Who is she?” she asked, her voice came out rough.

“Former assistant. It ended badly and obviously someone was watching.”

She swallowed. Her pulse beat hard in her throat, between her legs. “They want money?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretched.

Victor leaned back slightly. “Is there anything I can do to make tonight less painful for you?”

Emily met his eyes. Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it.

“Yeah,” she said. “There is.”

He waited.

She nodded toward the frozen image. “Fuck me the way you fucked her.”

Victor’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his eyes. His eyes were suddenly darker.

“Be specific,” he said.

“Exactly like that.” She pointed at the screen. “Pull my hair. Fuck me hard and don’t stop until I can’t think about anything except how full I feel. I want to feel what she felt, I want to wipe him out of my head.”

He studied her for a long beat, then he stood.

“Stand up.”

She rose on unsteady legs. The torn blouse gaped wider now, lace bra fully visible, nipples stiff and visible through the thin fabric. Her skirt clung to her hips, wrinkled.

Victor walked around the desk. He stopped inches from her. She smelled his cologne, sandalwood, and leather.

He lifted a hand, brushed his knuckles along her jaw, then slid fingers into her hair at the nape. He gathered a thick fistful and tugged firm, and steady. Her head tilted back, a soft gasp escaping her.

“You’re certain?” he asked, voice low.

“Yes.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me like you fucked her on that video,” she said, staring up into his face. “Make me come so hard I forget Ryan exists.”

Victor’s other hand settled on her waist, then slid down to grip her ass through the skirt. He squeezed, pulling her flush against him. The hard length of his erection pressed into her stomach through his trousers.

He backed her up until the edge of the desk hit the backs of her thighs. With one smooth lift he set her on the surface. Her skirt bunched higher, exposing the tops of her thighs.

Victor stepped between her legs, spreading them wide with his hips. His mouth crashed down on hers with no hesitation, no gentleness just like she requested. His tongue pushed past her lips, claiming, tasting. She moaned into the kiss, hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer.

He broke away, dragged his mouth down her jaw, along the side of her throat. Teeth scraped her pulse point. She arched, offering more skin.

His hand slid up her inner thigh, under the skirt. Fingers found the soaked lace of her panties and pressed, rubbing slow, firm circles over her clit through the fabric. Her hips jerked and a whimper slipped out of her.

“So wet already,” he murmured against her neck.

“Because I watched you,” she breathed. “Watched how hard you fucked her, how much she loved it.”

He hooked a finger under the edge of her panties and yanked the fabric aside. Two fingers plunged into her with no warning. She cried out, back bowing. He curled them, stroking the front wall, pumping steadily. Slick sounds filled the quiet office, her thighs trembled around his wrist.

He pulled his fingers free and she whimpered at the emptiness.

Victor unbuckled his belt. He shoved trousers and briefs low enough. His cock sprang free, heavy, thick, the head flushed dark and already slick with pre-come.

He fisted her hair again, tighter and forced her to look down between them.

“Watch,” he ordered.

She did. He gripped the base, rubbed the head along her folds slowly, coating himself in her wetness. Then he pushed forward in one long, inexorable thrust until his hips met hers and he was buried to the root.

Emily’s mouth opened on a choked moan. He stretched her wide, the slight burn blending into raw pleasure. Every inch of him pressed against every sensitive spot inside.

Victor didn’t pause. He pulled back and slammed in again harder and deeper. The desk creaked. Her breasts bounced under the open blouse.

He set a brutal pace; long strokes that dragged out, then drove back in with force. The wet slap of their bodies echoed, just like the video. Her arousal coated his shaft, dripped down to stain her inner thighs. The musky scent of sex thickened the air.

Victor yanked the lace cups of her bra down, exposing her breasts. Her nipples stood tight, dark pink. He pinched one, rolled it, and tugged while she keened, hips rocking to meet every thrust.

“This what you wanted?” he growled against her ear.

“Yes, God, harder…”

He hooked her legs over his forearms, spreading her wider, lifting her hips off the desk. The new angle let him hit deeper, grinding against her G-spot with every stroke. She screamed, nails raking his shoulders through his shirt.

He fucked her relentlessly in precise, unforgiving strokes. Sweat slicked her skin, and his too. Her breasts jiggled with each impact as the desk rocked beneath them.

Pressure coiled tight low in her belly. Her thighs shook.

“I’m…fuck, I’m gonna come—”

“Come on my cock, let me feel you squeeze me.” he ordered.

He released her hair, both hands gripping her hips now, yanking her onto him with every thrust. The rhythm turned punishing. Her clit ground against his pubic bone on every deep plunge.

The orgasm slammed into her. Muscles clamped down hard around his thickness. She screamed his name this time, Victor vision blurring, body convulsing. Pleasure rolled through her in heavy waves, thighs quaking, toes curling inside her heels.

He kept thrusting through it, drawing every aftershock out of her until she was gasping, trembling, oversensitive.

Only then did he slow, grinding deep, letting her feel the thick pulse of him still hard inside her.

He leaned down. Kissed her, slower now, lips brushing hers.

She panted against his mouth, body limp against the desk, heart thundering.

Victor stayed buried inside her.

The office smelled of cedar, leather, sweat, and sex.

And for the first time since she had walked into that bedroom upstairs, Emily felt something besides rage.