The Office Affair (MY BOSS’S LATE-NIGHT DEMANDS)

The conference room smelled like stale coffee and his cologne—something expensive and woodsy that clung to my skin for hours afterward. He didn’t even bother with small talk. Just circled me like a shark, his polished Oxfords clicking against the tile. "You knew this was coming," he said, loosening his tie. My pulse spiked. Of course I knew. The way he’d "accidentally" grazed my waist in the break room. How he’d schedule one-on-one meetings just as my blouse dipped a little too low in the summer heat.

I could’ve played dumb. Could’ve pretended not to notice the way his gaze darkened when I crossed my legs in meetings. But where was the fun in that? So I let my skirt ride up another inch as I perched on the edge of the table. His Adam’s apple bobbed. "Is this about the Thompson account?" I asked, all innocence. His laugh was rough as he stepped between my knees. "We’re way past spreadsheets, sweetheart."

His palm hit the table beside my hip, caging me in. When his other hand slid up my thigh, I gasped—not because it was unexpected, but because his fingers were freezing. "Jesus," I hissed. He smirked. "Problem?" Asshole. I retaliated by yanking his tie, bringing his mouth inches from mine. His breath smelled like whiskey. "You’ve been begging for this," he murmured, thumb brushing the lace edge of my thong. I could’ve denied it. But the dampness between my legs betrayed me.

The first thrust was punishing. No foreplay, no tenderness—just the sharp bite of the table’s edge and his grip on my hair keeping me arched toward him. "Quiet," he ordered when I moaned. "Or do you want the night crew to hear?" The risk sent a filthy thrill down my spine. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. He rewarded me by dragging my blouse down to suck a bruise over my nipple, right where the fabric would rub raw tomorrow during my presentation.

After, he zipped up like nothing happened while I struggled to realign my seams. "Monday," he said, adjusting his cufflinks. "My office. Don’t wear underwear." The door clicked shut behind him. My legs shook as I slid off the table.

Now, every time I pass his glass-walled office, I catch him staring at my mouth. And when I flash him a smirk and slowly cross my legs? The way his pen snaps in his fist is better than any bonus.