2. Hard Questions, Harder Nipples

INDIGO

I went alone.

I told Leah I didn’t need moral support. I knew exactly what her “offer” really was — just an excuse to come see her fiancé and play the supportive cousin while secretly showing him off. I strongly refused. I didn’t need her there. I had this. And some dark, guilty part of me wanted to soak him in alone, without her presence ruining the filthy fantasy I’d been living in for weeks.

I wore a fitted black skirt that hugged my ass and stopped just above my knees, knee-high leather boots that made my legs look endless, and a cropped blazer over a thin white blouse. Professional on the outside. A bad decision on the inside.

His office was intimidating — floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, multiple screens on the walls showing live sports feeds, shelves lined with awards and trophies, and a massive modern desk that made him look like he owned everything in sight.

The second I stepped inside, my pussy clenched hard.

He sat behind the massive desk in a perfectly tailored charcoal Brioni suit that screamed old-money power. He looked up, and the tension between us became immediate and suffocating.

We stared at each other. No words. Just raw, dangerous recognition.

“Indigo Derrin,” he finally said, voice low and velvet-rough. “Close the door.”

I did, my fingers shaky on the handle. When I turned back, he was already standing, towering and imposing.

“Sit.”

I sat, pressing my thighs together under the skirt. My nipples were already tightening against the thin fabric of my blouse. Traitorous body.

Dario leaned back in his chair, all business now, his expression sharp and no-nonsense. The sports geek in him came out full force as he fired questions without wasting a second.

“Last night’s game between the Kings and the Rangers. What went wrong in their defensive zone coverage in the second period?”

I straightened, grateful for the familiar ground. “They over-committed to the boards. Left the slot wide open. Should have rotated the weak-side defenseman faster.”

He nodded once, eyes narrowing. “And the controversial no-goal call in the third?”

“Bad call. The puck crossed the line before the whistle. The replay showed it clearly, but the refs blew it.”

We went back and forth like that for several minutes — defensive pairings, power play strategies, goaltender weaknesses, player stats.

He was relentless, and clearly in his element.

But then he leaned forward, the professional mask cracking just enough for something darker to show.

“Enough with this, I’ve been thinking about you since the game. We were seconds away from kissing in that crowd. Would have been interesting.”

Heat flooded my face and straight down between my legs. I lifted my chin, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “That was a mistake. Heat of the moment. I’d really like to just enjoy working here… professionally.”

Dario’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. He stood and circled the desk like a shark, stopping right in front of me.

“A mistake?” he murmured, voice dropping dangerously low. “So you’d fuck yourself in my fiancée’s hallway to the sight of any man getting his cock sucked? Or was it just mine that made that pretty pussy come so hard you had to bite your hand raw? How’s it by the way?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, flabbergasted. The crude words sent a fresh gush of wetness into my panties. My clit throbbed. God, why does him saying it out loud make me even wetter?

“It was a mistake,” I repeated, trying to ignore how soaked I was. “One I won’t repeat. I need this job, Dario. Not have complications with my cousin’s soon-to-be husband.”

He braced one hand on the arm of my chair and leaned down close — too close. His cologne wrapped around me, expensive and very masculine. His other hand hovered near my knee, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat.

“Your hardened nipples are saying otherwise, Indigo.”

I glanced down before I could stop myself. Fuck. They were blatantly visible, tight and aching against the white blouse. Shame and arousal twisted hot in my belly.

I forced a smirk, trying to claw back some control. “Nice suit, by the way. Brioni. Of course someone who wears Brioni would have such exceptional eyesight… noticing every little detail like that.”

For a second, surprise flashed across his face.

“Not everyone can afford Brioni,” he said, tilting his head. “Who’s the guy you’re hooked on that taught you to recognize suit brands at a glance?”

I let out a scoff. “Pft. Is your ego that inflated that another man being able to afford nice things bothers you? And does everything have to revolve around me being hooked on some guy?”

His lips twitched. He leaned in even closer, “Careful, Indigo. You keep talking like that and I might start thinking you’re trying to make me jealous.” He paused, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. “And trust me… I don’t bite.”

I met his gaze head-on, my voice low and biting. “Good thing I’m not yours to bite.”

He let out a low, rich laugh that vibrated straight through me and made my pussy flutter.

“Sharp tongue,” he said, still smiling as he leaned even closer. “I like that. A lot.”

My breath hitched. His mouth was inches from mine. For one dizzying second, I thought he was going to kiss me — or worse, slide that hand up under my skirt and find out exactly how wet I was. My thighs trembled with the urge to spread for him.

A knock on the door snapped the moment like a whip.

Dario straightened instantly, calm and composed like nothing had happened. I sat there flushed, breathing hard, nipples still traitorously hard and my panties absolutely ruined.

“Come in,” he called.

A producer poked his head in. “Sir, the 11 o’clock meeting starts in five.”

Dario nodded. “We’re almost done here.”

When the door closed, he looked back at me, that satisfied smirk returning.

“You’re hired, Indigo. Report Monday at nine. And I hate it when people come to work late,” he added, his tone shifting back to that crisp, no-nonsense boss mode. “So don’t be late. That’s how fast you can get on my bad side.”

I stood on shaky legs, smoothing my skirt down with trembling hands. “Thank you… sir.”

“Dario,” he corrected.

I barely made it out of the building before my knees felt weak and my mind spun with filthy, guilty thoughts.

This was going to destroy me.

And some sick, dripping part of me couldn’t wait for Monday.