MY FATHER'S BESTFRIEND 1

The air in the executive suite tasted of ozone and expensive sandalwood. Elena stood before the heavy oak door, her fingers trembling as she clutched a manila folder. She had double-checked the spreadsheets three times, but a single misplaced decimal point in the quarterly projections had slipped through. In Julian's world, a decimal point was not a typo; it was a failure of discipline.

She pushed the door open. Julian sat behind a desk carved from a single slab of obsidian, his charcoal suit fitting his broad shoulders with surgical precision. He didn't look up. His fountain pen scratched against a cream-colored page with a rhythmic, predatory sound.

"Close the door, Elena."

The click of the latch sounded like a gunshot in the silence. Elena stepped forward, the carpet muffling her heels.

"The report, Mr. Thorne. I found the error. I've corrected it."

Julian finally looked up. His eyes, a cold, piercing grey, tracked her movement with an intensity that made her skin prickle. He didn't reach for the folder. Instead, he slid a leather-bound book across the obsidian surface. The cover was embossed with a gold seal: The Ledger of Errors.

"You found it, did you?"

"Yes. I apologize. It won't happen again."

Julian leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking.

"Apologies are breath and air, Elena. They have no value in this office. Value is found in restitution."

He flipped the ledger open to a fresh page. In a sharp, elegant script, he wrote: Miscalculation of projected revenue. Variance: 0.04 percent.

"What are you doing?"

"I am logging your debt. You know the tiers, don't you?"

Elena swallowed hard, her throat dry. She had been with the firm for six months. The Ledger had been introduced in her second month, a peculiar arrangement that had started as a joke and evolved into a ritual that kept her awake at night.

"Tier one," she whispered.

"Correct. A minor lapse in attention. The payment is simple, though the execution must be flawless."

Julian stood up. He was a head taller than her, his presence filling the room until the walls seemed to shrink. He walked around the desk, the scent of his cologne—something dark and spicy—wrapping around her like a shroud. He stopped inches away, the heat from his body radiating through her silk blouse.

"Desk, Elena. Now."

She didn't hesitate. She turned and hoisted herself onto the obsidian slab, the cold stone biting into her thighs through her pencil skirt. She sat on the edge, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Skirt up," Julian commanded.

Elena reached down, bunching the fabric of her skirt in her fists and sliding it up to her waist. She wasn't wearing tights, only a pair of sheer black lace panties that left little to the imagination. Julian stared, his gaze heavy and possessive, tracing the line of her pale thighs.

"You're shaking," he noted.

"I'm nervous."

"Good. Nervousness ensures you remember the cost of a mistake."

He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. There was a flicker of something raw and hungry behind the professional mask.

"The payment for a Tier one error is oral stimulation. To completion. You will not stop until I tell you, and you will maintain eye contact."

"Yes, Mr. Thorne."

Julian reached for his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle echoed. He unzipped his trousers with a slow, deliberate motion, releasing his cock. It sprang free, thick and pulsing, the head already beaded with a glimmer of pre-cum. Elena gasped, her eyes widening. He was always so imposing, his size a constant reminder of the power gap between them.

"Get down," he ordered.

Elena slid off the desk and knelt on the plush carpet. She looked up at him, her lips parting. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the velvet skin of his shaft. He groaned, a low vibration that she felt in her own chest.

"Use your tongue, Elena. Be thorough."

She leaned in, her breath hot against his skin. She swirled her tongue around the crown, tasting the salt and musk of him. Julian let out a sharp exhale, his fingers tangling in her hair, gripping tight enough to tilt her head back.

"Look at me," he hissed.

She obeyed, her eyes locking onto his as she slid her mouth over him. He was massive, filling her oral cavity completely. She felt the stretch in her jaw, the way her throat tightened as she took him deeper. The sound of her wet lips sliding against his skin—a rhythmic, squelching shlick—filled the quiet office.

Julian's hips began to move, a slow, grinding motion that pushed him further into her mouth.

"You like this, don't you? Paying your debts with your mouth."

Elena couldn't speak, only make a muffled humming sound of agreement. She increased the pace, her tongue dancing around the ridge of his head, sucking hard. She could hear the air being pushed out of his lungs in ragged gasps.

"Harder. Squeeze me with your throat."

She obeyed, using her muscles to grip him, creating a vacuum that drew a guttural moan from his lips. Julian's grip on her hair tightened, his knuckles white. He was nearing the edge, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

"I'm going to... Elena, keep going. Don't you dare stop."

She pushed herself further, her nose pressing into his pubic hair, her cheeks aching. She could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his entire body coiled like a spring. With one final, deep thrust, Julian stiffened.

"Now!"

He groaned loudly, his back arching as he erupted. Elena felt the hot, thick jets of semen hit the back of her throat. She swallowed instinctively, the salty liquid sliding down her esophagus. He came in waves, pulsing deep inside her mouth, filling her until she had to swallow repeatedly to keep from choking.

Julian stayed still for a moment, his chest heaving. He slowly withdrew from her mouth, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting them for a second before it snapped.

Elena looked up at him, her lips glistening, her eyes hazy with arousal.

"Was that satisfactory, Mr. Thorne?"

Julian reached for a linen handkerchief on his desk and wiped himself clean. The mask of the cold executive slid back into place, though his eyes remained dark.

"Acceptable. For now."

He picked up the Ledger and drew a neat, bold line through the entry.

"Debt settled. Return to your desk, Elena. And for heaven's sake, check your decimals."

Elena stood up, smoothing her skirt with trembling hands. She felt a lingering warmth between her legs, a pulsing need that hadn't been fully satisfied.

"Yes, sir."

As she walked toward the door, she heard him speak one last time.

"And Elena?"

She turned.

"The next mistake will be a Tier two. I suggest you be very, very careful."

She shivered, a mixture of fear and anticipation racing through her. She closed the door behind her, the scent of sandalwood and sex clinging to her skin.