The next morning, I’m waiting on the sidewalk when Rob’s Maserati rolls to a stop before me. He called me three minutes ago, which is a good thing because Nolan, the daytime security guard, is standing beside me, determined to be a dick.

“This is a no parking zone.” Nolan puffs his chest out, reveling in his role.

“Yeah, yeah, but it’s available for passenger unloading and loading.” I climb into the passenger seat, set my packed tote near my feet.

“That’s your overnight bag?” Rob drives away before Nolan can touch his car. “You pack light.”

“I assumed I’d be sleeping in the nude.” I breathe in the scent of hot java and hotter man. “Was that a wrong assumption?”

“No.” Rob flashes a smile. He’s cleanly shaven this morning, no shadows under his brown eyes, and looking fine in a navy-blue suit, matching tie, white shirt. “The muffin is yours.” He dips his head toward the middle console.

“Chocolate chunk, my favorite.” I break off a piece and pop it into my mouth. The chocolate melts on my tongue, the baked good decadently light.

“That’s why I bought it.” Rob turns left. “The coffee closest to the dash is yours too.”

“Ummm…” I pick up the disposable cup and gaze at it dubiously. “You know how I feel about my coffee.” He drinks his coffee black. He can’t truly understand my issues.

“I know how you like your coffee—Caramel Macchiato, Venti, Skim, Extra Shot, Extra Hot, Extra Whip, Sugar-Free,” he recites.

“You remembered.” My mouth drops open. We had the infamous coffee discussion months ago. “How can you get what might be the most complicated coffee order in the world correct and manage to book a month’s worth of meetings in the wrong year?”

Rob stares out the windshield. “Mistakes happen.”

“A young, inexperienced assistant might make the same mistake.” I nibble on the muffin. “Lucky for you, you have Mrs. Bellows. She knows what she’s doing.”

When Trella Grant, John Powers’ assistant, first joined the company, Mrs. Bellows trained her. The supremely competent woman would never make such a foolish error.

Rob says nothing. Lines are etched between his eyebrows. He must be concentrating on the drive. Toronto traffic is as horrendous as usual, cars crawling along Yonge Street.

I sip my coffee and moan. “God. This is better than sex.”

He glances at me and then back at the road. “You won’t say that tomorrow morning.”

“Won’t I?” I grin. “You’re cocky.”

“You have no idea.” Rob shifts in his seat.

My gaze drops. He’s hard, his cock straining against the confines of his dress pants. “When we arrive at the office, I could suck you off.” I’d like that. I lick some chocolate off my lips. He’d taste better than the muffin and the coffee combined.

“You can suck me off later.” Rob’s knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. “There’s no time for playing this morning. People will be arriving soon for the first meeting and we’re booked solid until the evening.”

“So you’re saying I should have worn panties today.” The devil in me teases.

“Kirsten.” He growls.

“Yeah, boss?”

“You’re driving me fuckin’ insane.”

“That’s one of the many services I offer.” I laugh.

Silence stretches.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Hike up your skirt and show me your bare pussy.”

I narrow my eyes. Is this a challenge, his way of calling my bluff? Because I wasn’t lying. I am bare under my skirt.

“Sure.” I slowly lift my hem, revealing my knees, full thighs, cleanly-shaven mons. “Look all you want.”

He waits until we reach a stoplight and does exactly that, gazing at me with an exciting wildness in his eyes. “Spread your legs.”

I obey him, opening myself fully to him. He can see my pinkness, my wet folds, my empty entrance.

A car honks. “Shit.” Rob pulls his gaze away from my body and drives.

I remain positioned where I am, available for his viewing pleasure, decadently on display. Anyone looking into the vehicle will see my bare pussy.

He breathes in, breathes out, his chest rising and falling. “You smell delicious.”

“I taste better.” I torture him some more. “Like strawberries and cream.” I’m not his first woman. He knows this is bullshit. No pussy tastes like strawberries.

“You’d be wet and tight around me.”

“I’d be very tight. You’re big, will be the biggest I’ve ever had.” He’d fill me completely.

A hurting sound comes from deep in Rob’s throat. “Are you on birth control?”

He wants to ride me bareback. I tremble, wanting this also. “If we forgo condoms, we can’t fuck anyone else.” I’m reckless but not stupid.

“There will be no one else for me, Kirsten.”

This sounds almost as if he’s vowing fidelity forever. He’s not…is he? “I’m clean.”

“I’m clean also.” Rob turns the car into the office parking garage. “Once these Goddamn meetings are done for the day, we’ll reward ourselves with a good, hard fuck. I’ll bend you over my desk and pound my cock into that hot pussy of yours. There will no barriers, nothing between us. You’ll feel every inch of me, every spurt of cum, as I claim you, making your body mine.”

“Yes, please.” I wiggle, anticipating that encounter. “Can I lick you clean after we’re finished, taste both of us on your cock?”

“You know how to torment me.” He groans. “This will be a long fuckin’ day.”

Rob’s mood darkens even more as he parks in the spot closest to the elevator. Kenneth Ling, one of his top analysts, waves and waits for us, eliminating any possibility of a quickie in the car. I push the hem of my skirt downward.

“We can last the day.” I hope. I pass Rob his coffee cup and exit the vehicle with my beverage and my muffin in my hands, my tote slung over my right shoulder.

I expect my proud executive to walk beside me, to treat me with professional coolness, put a distance between us. Instead, he places one of his large palms on the small of my back, the gesture primitively possessive, the signal he’s sending clear—I’m his.

I lift my chin, straighten my spine, and stride with dignity toward the elevator and Kenneth Ling. Everyone will talk, but as Rob stated last night, everyone can fuck off.

I want Powers Corporation’s dynamic young CFO and I’ll have him.

As soon as our Goddamn meetings are done.

I greet visitors, bring them to Rob’s office, work on rearranging his double booked schedule during the meetings, and then walk the visitors out of the building. Rob gives me Mrs. Bellows’ password – Christmas11, her favorite holiday combined with the year her first grandbaby was born. When I ask him why he knows her password, he simply shrugs his broad shoulders.

I suspect it has to do with his need to control everything. Mrs. Bellows’ top drawer is filled with a spooky collection of yellow post-it notes. All of these are signed RR—Robert Reyes and they include reminders that shredding documents is against company policy, that signed checks are to be given to Jenella Whyte, not mailed directly, that Mrs. Bellows is never to speak to auditors, either internal or external.

She’s a saint to put up with his bullshit. I would have given him the finger day one, told him to leave me alone and let me do my damn job.

He must know this. Rob doesn’t try to micromanage me, keeping his unneeded insights to himself.

I order sandwiches and salad for his lunch meeting, eating my selection at my desk. At three o’clock, we snack on cookies.

Despite this sugar hit, both of us start to drag our asses. My vision blurs, the days in the schedule running together. Rob appears more and more grim.

I send him a message.

<KirstenCourt: I pictured you while I pleasured myself last night>

<RobertReyes: How?> His response is immediate.

How did I picture him or how did I pleasure myself? I suspect it’s the latter.

<KirstenCourt: 2 Dildos—1 in my ass, 1 in my pussy>

Minutes pass. I check my phone obsessively. Was that too dirty of a reply for my executive? Does he think I’m a freak?

<RobertReyes: Did you bring them?>

I smile. He’s a freak too.

<KirstenCourt: No. I counted on you giving me the real thing>

His cock is what I want. No dildo will ever compare to him.

<RobertReyes: 2 more hrs & I’ll give you all of me, beautiful>

The countdown begins. We exchange secret smiles at the end of each meeting, knowing we’re that much closer to sexual satisfaction.

Rob’s last meeting runs late.

I watch the clock on the bottom right-hand of the screen.

8:00 PM

8:01 PM

8:02 PM

Oh, God. If they don’t exit his office soon, I’ll lose my mind. I want him so badly.

8:04 PM

I fidget in my seat, my gaze alternating between the clock and the door. My frustration spirals higher and higher with every passing minute.

At 8:18, the door finally opens. I straighten. The salesmen for a new accounting software exit first, followed by Rob. His hair is mussed, the curls unruly. Stubble darkens his chin.

“I’ll show our guests out, Miss Court.” He meets my gaze, his eyes glimmering with an eagerness I share. “Please prepare for our next meeting.”

“Yes, sir.” He’ll fuck me now, take me hard and fast against his desk.

I enter his office and smile. He has already cleared the surface, removing his screens and papers, stacking them on the table behind his chair.

This sophisticated, handsome, hardworking man wants me.

I remove my jacket. My blue bustier will remain on, as will my skirt and heels. He can undress me later, when we move our sexploits to his home.

I pull the pins from my hair and shake my head. The heavy tresses fall over my shoulders, down my back. Will he burrow his face in my hair as he fucks me?

I hike up my skirt, spread my legs and bend over his desk, resting my cheek on the cool wood. Anyone entering Rob’s office will see me, my ass in the air, my pussy exposed. I’ll be at his mercy.

I wait and wait and wait.

Is the horny bastard ever coming back? Doesn’t he know how much I need him?

Wood brushes against carpet. I suck my breath in. The door clicks closed, locks.

Has Rob arrived or is the newcomer someone else? I don’t dare look.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Kirsten.” Rob’s deep voice rolls over me, adding fuel to the fire burning within my soul. “All curves and softness.” Fabric rustles. “I want to plunge cockfirst into you and never return.” A zipper rasps.

Moisture streams down my thighs. “Are you going to fuck me, Rob?” I wiggle my ass. “Or just talk about it?”

“You like it when I talk about it.” He rubs my ass, his hands warm and firm against my curves. “It turns you on.”

“I don’t need any more stimulation.” I arch my back. “I’m ready for you, been ready for hours.”

“I’ve been ready for days, months.” Rob cups my pussy. “You’re dripping.” He drags his fingers up and down, up and down, stroking me, brushing against my clit, tormenting me even more. “This will be fast, beautiful. I have no control left.”

“Good because I have no patience left.” I press against his palm, seeking my own satisfaction. “Give me that big cock, Mr. Reyes. Fuck me. Fill me. Make me yours.”

“You are mine.” Rob grips my hips. Hot hard flesh bumps against my feminine folds. “No other man will have you.” He pushes into me. My body pulls tight around him. “Fuck. You feel damn good.”

He sinks deep and deeper, the sensual slide of rigid cock in yielding pussy divine. I hold onto the edge of the desk, savoring every inch, his body reshaping mine.

This is more than a physical joining. Rob is invading my heart, my soul, giving me a sense of completeness I didn’t realize I lacked.

My temporary job placement will leave a permanent scar.

I can’t prevent that, can only enjoy the bliss while it lasts.

Rob’s hips cradle my ass. His base touches my folds, his curls coarse against my delicate flesh. He stops, giving me a moment to adjust. His breath is loud in the silence, a testament to his waning restraint.

“Kirsten?” His voice lowers.

“I’m good.” I undulate, caressing him with my inner walls.

“You’re better than good. You’re fantastic.” Rob pulls out slowly and my body instinctively clenches around him, trying to maintain our connection. “Fuck.” He slams back into me, rocking my form, loosening my grip on reality.

“Fuck,” I echo, squeezing him.

“Can’t hold back.” Rob’s control breaks. He rides me hard, thrusting deep, wildly.

I try to match his movements but can’t. His tempo is all over the damn place. Our forms crash, collide, warmth radiating from the points of contact. Our fucking is savage and harsh and I love it, panting with exhilaration.

He bends over me, seeking to contain my bucking, caging me with his muscle. His chest is bare, his skin warm, covered with perspiration, with his scent. His biceps are flexed. I lick his arm, tasting salt and man.

He grunts and pounds into me harder. My juices splatter between his balls. My pussy hums with the abuse. Neither of us holds back. Rob takes from me and I take from him, our desire escalating.

“More,” I urge, my voice hoarse with exertion.

“Fuck.” He pumps into me with everything he has, his strength arousing me. This isn’t some weak-assed paper pusher. This is a man, a powerful executive, able to dominate me, subdue me, make me his.

And I want this. I want to belong to him. My arms and legs tremble. Sweat streams down my spine. My breasts smack against the desk, the sting stimulating me.

“Can’t.” His cock swells inside me. “Last.”

“Need.” Hell. I don’t know what I need.

Rob knows. He reaches around my body, skims his fingers over my mons, finds my clit.

“Yes,” I whimper.

He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves.

I scream, throw myself upward, but Rob won’t be dislodged. He drives into me, pinning my hips to the desk, and roars, filling my pussy with his hot cum, setting off another round of ecstasy. I wiggle and writhe, the rapture too much.

He thrusts once, twice more, and collapses, flattening me against the wood. “Fuck.” He nuzzles his nose into my hair, his shoulders shuddering.

I am fucked, in more ways than one. Rob sees me as a convenience lay, a woman to ease his needs during work hours. I’ve developed feelings for him, might have always cared for him.

“Are you okay, beautiful?” My executive braces himself upward. “Was I too rough with you?” He brushes his lips over my neck and I tremble.

“You can’t be too rough with me.” My voice is brusque. “I can handle you, Rob.”

He covers my hands with his. “I know you can but I’d never hurt you, Kirsten.”

He hasn’t lied to me in the past but this is one promise he can’t keep. When he leaves me, he’ll hurt me. I splay my fingers. He fills in the gaps with his, linking us together, this gesture pulling at my heart.

“Do you want me to lick you clean now?” I summon a smile.

“Tonight, you can lick me clean.” He nibbles on my earlobe. “Right now, I want to hold you.”

I want that too.

Too much.