Unholy Cravings : Forbidden Fantasies

Deadlines.

I hate them. And I hate them even more when I am ovulating, craving a dick I didn't have at my disposal.

I am as single as a loose thread.

Everything suddenly seems as if it is choking my neck, and I wish I could scream so loud someone shoves their massive cock down my mouth to shut me up.

But it was past 9.

And I was the only one left in the office because deadlines were eating my ass off.

How I wished it was something else eating me off. Something soft that is pink and made up of flexible muscles. A fucking tongue.

But wishes don’t come true for hard-to-please ladies like me.

I hated vanilla sex.

And every sex I have had for the past three months with strangers from the bar has been nothing but bland.

A sigh escaped my lips. I kept the folder intact and marched my way to my boss’ office to drop the financial report I was tasked with.

I couldn’t wait to be back home so I could select which of the rubber dicks lined in my drawer would fuck me tonight.

My heels clicked hard and fast off the marble floors, my ponytailed hair swaying behind me, and the pencil skirt I wore was limiting how far each step I took should have been.

Getting to the office, I didn’t bother knocking like usual because I knew my boss had gone home. So I just pushed the door open, but the view that greeted me was not something I have yet to write down in my book of fantasy.

Don’t get me wrong.

Mr. Quinn, my boss of five years, with hazel eyes and the buffness of almost a bear, had many times come up in my fantasy, my daydreams, my night dreams, and even when I had to conjure up an image of a man when I was pleasuring myself and squirting on my fingers.

But never have I imagined catching him fucking his fist, head thrown back over the headrest of his executive chair, eyes closed, teeth bared, sweat trickling down his neck, and the grunts—fucking melodic to my ears.

And the glisten of precum was beckoning my lusty soul to get on my fucking knees and crawl towards him like the slut I have always imagined myself to be for him, and wrap my filthy lips around his cock, bobbing my head until he was bursting his seed down my throat.

But no, my feet are glued to the spot at the entrance.

And my eyes, they were stuck on his veiny and thick cock that was pulsing with need.

“No knocks?” His gravelly voice pulled my eyes back to his sweaty face.

“I’m sorry, sir. But I didn’t know there was still anyone in the office.” I said it so fast that my heart couldn't keep up.

And my eyes? They kept betraying me by straying down to where his fist was still wrapped around his girth.

“I see you like what you see…” he drawled, now lazily stroking his dick while locking gaze with me as if daring me to do something.

To beg. For him. To fuck. Me!

Me?

Come on, I scolded myself. That can’t happen. Because Mr. Quinn is happily married and would never cheat on his wife.

“N- No sir, I- I just,” I swallowed, trying to breathe between my words, “—I just wanted to drop this on your desk.”

“And what’s stopping you?” He asked as if he was not displaying a part of him I had only ever pictured in my head.

I gulped down again, scared of what might come out of my lips if I decided to answer.

So instead of saying anything, I slowly stalked towards his desk and dropped the file, but that’s when I fell into a trap he set.

“Tell me you don’t want to have a taste of this right now.” He pushed his chair to the side of the desk, revealing all of him.

His pants pooled at his feet, and his shirt was already unbuttoned.

And every cell in me was screaming to go feel those abs, to lick each peck, and leave trails of my sinful desires painted on his body.

“What do you mean?” I found my voice again. Maybe if I feigned innocence, perhaps I would not cross the line between us.

“Darling, I’ve seen you. I’ve heard you. I’ve read your book as well. I know.” He dropped the bomb in the deadliest tone I’ve ever heard from him.

“What book? Heard what?” I asked, but he was still stroking, and the heat was slowly spreading all around my body, pooling at my core.

And my panties—fucking soaked.

“I see how you steal glances of me, how you bite your lips when you think I’m not looking.” He removed his shirt in a slow and deliberate manner.

I had to stylishly press my thighs together, feeling the wetness between my legs and the ache that needs to be soothed.

“I hear you on some nights when you pleasure yourself in the office restroom, my name falling off your lips like a mantra.” He said, and this time, he was removing his shoes.

Fuck, what is he trying to get at?

Because at this rate, it might look like I wet myself at the rate that I am slicking up.

“And darling, did you know you once forgot your diary in my office? Didn’t you find it weird how your lost diary was safely kept in your locked desk drawer?” He smiled then, finally and completely naked as he let off his fallen pants.

“So I know.” He grabbed his cock and stared at me with a darkness I’ve never seen swimming in those orbs before.

He was the perfect man they write about in novels, everything was just as I imagined it. Maybe even better.

“You know?” I bit back some words—how much I want you to bend me over your desk and fuck me until I’m teary and jelly.

He nodded.

“And right now, it’s all yours to take.” He pushed out his hips; his dick sprang up and twitched like it recognized me. Like it wants me as badly as I want it.

So, like the stupid, nasty secretary that I am—going against every damn rationality, everything that screams fucking my married boss is all wrong—I dropped to my knees.

“Then I’ll take you.”