Chapter 11

Mona

When I arrived in the office that Monday morning, I was surprised to find it empty.

It wasn’t like Oliver to miss an early start like this. I glanced around, searching for clues that might indicate where he had gone. My eyes fell on his drinks cabinet, and I briefly considered diving in and pouring myself something, but it was so early in the day that I knew my body would reject any kind of alcohol – or, indeed, any liquid that wasn’t extremely high in caffeine.

I spotted a note on the table, scrawled out in messy handwriting that I recognized at once as Oliver’s. I looked closer.

‘Meeting – back at ten,’ the note read, and I wondered why he hadn’t just emailed me the information instead. He could be so old-fashioned in the most unexpected of ways. I found it kind of charming.

I made my way around the office, almost reverently, touching the small motorcycle trinket on his desk and enjoying the view out the window as the sun rose high above the city. The light was warm and soft, and I could have stood there all day soaking it in if I didn’t have a million other things to get on with.

I ran my hand absently over the back of his chair. It was tall, almost as tall as I was, and his jacket was slung haphazardly over the arm. I glanced around, hardly able to believe I was really about to do what had just crossed my mind.

Before I could stop myself, I leaned in, closed my eyes, and pressed my face against his jacket, inhaling deeply. The scent of his aftershave filled my senses, and I let out the tiniest moan. I pulled back, flushing, and looked around, as though someone might have caught me, but I was alone in the office, with a couple of hours still before he was due back.

I slipped into the seat, leaning my head back against the soft leather and closed my eyes. I ran my hands along the armrests, squeezing them softly, and watching as the imprint of my hand dented and released in the fabric. I tilted my head to the side so I could capture the scent of his jacket once more.

Mmm, he smelled so good. He was so far removed from the guys I knew in college, who always seemed to smell of Axe body spray and cheap beer. His aftershave was rich, fragrant, and deliciously tempting, the kind that made me want to bury my face against his neck and breathe him in like I could consume him whole if I tried hard enough.

I bit my lip as the thought crossed my mind. Maybe I’d even bare my teeth, let him feel them against his neck. I could imagine the laugh he’d let out at my mock ferociousness, the way he’d slip his hands around me and tug me away gently so he could look me in the eyes.

“So, you want to play rough, do you?” he’d say, and it would be as much a challenge as it was anything else.

I’d bite my lip and nod up at him coyly.

“Take off your panties,” he’d order.

My mind envisioned the two of us, me in front of the desk and him in this very seat behind it. As my mind played out this fantasy, I slipped my hand beneath my trousers, beneath my panties, and my fingers found my clit and set to work. It had been a while since I’d found the time to grant myself some relief.

I’d lean down seductively, taking my time, hooking my fingers around my panties and pulling them down my legs before delicately stepping out of them and looking back to him for orders.

He’d hold out his hand.

“Give them to me,” he’d order, calmly, and I would do as I was told at once, handing them over dutifully. He’d pluck them from between my fingers and lift them to his face, inhaling deeply and shooting me a wicked smile as he did so.

“Turn around, and touch your toes,” he’d demand.

By now I would be able to feel my clit pulsing to attention, demanding to be taken care of. I’d do as I was told at once. My skirt would ride up, and I’d hear the sound of the chair creaking beneath him as he leaned forward and took me in. He’d pause for a moment, and the room would be so quiet I could hear my heartbeat. Then, finally, he would speak again.

“Finger yourself,” he’d growl, his voice low and heated.

My desire-fuddled brain would take a second to work out what he meant, but as soon as I did, I would slip my hand between my legs and push two fingers into my soaking wet pussy.

Back in his office chair, I squirmed and ground my pussy against my fingers, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. It felt so close to being real that I could almost reach out and touch it, and it was making me almost crazy with desire.

I’d push my fingers in and out of my pussy, moving slowly, making like I’d forgotten he was even in the room and getting myself off as best I could. My body would be tense all over as I waited for his next order, but he’d take his time and make me wait, enjoying the show too much to intervene quite yet. Finally, he’d speak again.

“Turn to me. Put your hands on the desk.”

Again, I would eagerly comply, my fingers slick as I pressed my hands against the cool wood of the desk in front of me. I’d look at him for a moment and he’d look back, still sitting in that chair, his face somehow impassive, despite everything that was happening, while mine would have my need written all over it.

He’d meet my gaze, and he’d offer me the briefest smile, one that told me he knew how badly I needed this and that he wasn’t going to make me wait much longer.

He’d get to his feet and slowly walk around me, his gaze burning into me the whole time. I’d shift back and forth, desperate for some kind of release, and when he positioned himself behind me, I’d know it was coming at last.

“You look so good like this,” he would say.

Then, he’d run a hand over my bare ass, maybe landing a sharp, sore spank on my backside to make me jump a little. I’d groan, unable to articulate how badly I needed this. He’d unzip his pants, position himself at the entrance of my slit, and run his hand up my back to grasp my hair.

Tilting my head back with a small tug, he’d force me to look into his eyes, brushing his mouth temptingly across my throat as he did so.

“Ready?” he’d ask, and I’d only be able to nod.

That would be all the invitation he needed. He’d push into me with one hard thrust, burying himself inside my pussy and letting out a deep, guttural groan as he held himself there for a second, letting me get used to the feeling of his thick erection deep inside me.

My hands would tighten on the desk, legs already wobbly beneath me as he would begin to move, slowly at first.

“You feel so fucking good,” he’d say, tugging again at my hair, so he could murmur the words directly into my ear. The sensation would course through me veins.

His other hand would grasp my hip, holding me steady as he would really begin to move behind me, fucking me deep and hard. He wouldn’t take his time, having kept me waiting long enough at that point, and my mouth would drop open as he picked up the pace.

He’d reach around, push two fingers between my lips, order me to suck on them, then he’d tighten his grip on my hair, knowing that the mixture of pleasure and pain he was causing had me close to the edge.

He’d go harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts and matching with every thrust as he would plow into me, our bodies connecting, and my chest would heave as I tried to keep up with him.

I let out a cry.

It pulled me back from my fantasy and to the real world once more. I was coming, hard, my pussy pulsing under my fingers, and my entire body crumpling in the office chair below me.

My breath was labored, and a small sheen of sweat covered my brow. I realized I had just made myself come thinking about my boss fucking me in the office we spent most of our days in together.

I couldn’t believe I’d let myself do it. After all that time telling myself it was wrong, and convincing myself I’d managed to put my crush behind me, I let this happen.

It felt like I was an addict, dipping into this potent drug I just couldn’t let go of. Every time I thought I’d shaken myself free, I found myself pulled back in.

I still panted hard, and my muscles felt loose as I tried my best to scold myself for having indulged my desire but I failed dismally. I knew it was a cliché, but how could something that felt so right be so wrong?

I stroked my clit a couple more times before I withdrew my hand from my panties – and to my horror, I heard someone making their way down the corridor toward me. There were footsteps. Footsteps I recognized.

Shit, it was Oliver!

I leaped from his chair as fast as I could, zipping my pants and slipping into my pocket the hand I’d used to masturbate, in the hopes he somehow wouldn’t pick up on what had just happened. I knew I was the color of beetroot, and I wracked my brains as fast as I could, trying to come up with a reason for why I was in his office when I should have been tucked away, working in mine.

The door opened. I straightened my shoulders and cleared my throat.

“I thought you weren’t going to be back until ten,” I blurted out, as soon as he came through the door.

He shot me an odd look, furrowing his brow and smiling slightly as he made his way toward his desk. I had to step out of the way to let him past and found myself inhaling that almost intoxicating scent of his aftershave once more.

“I just needed to pick up some papers,” he replied, rooting in his desk drawer for a moment and holding up a file.

“Oh, right,” I mumbled, looking down at my feet.

I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. What if he’d come back a few minutes earlier, when I was mid-orgasm and lost in a fantasy with my fingers down my pants. I’d have been fired on the spot, no question, and I would have deserved it. The thought of it was enough to make me cringe with embarrassment.

“Sorry to disturb you.”

He flashed me that flirtatious smile, the one that sent a shiver along my spine, and turned to head out the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Could you get back on all my messages for me?”

“Sure, of course.”

I nodded and waited for him to close the door tight behind him before I let my shoulders slump with relief. Holy shit, how the hell had I gotten away with that one?

I scurried down the corridor to the bathroom to wash my hands, looking at myself in the mirror as I did so. My cheeks were still flushed, and there would have been no way in hell he hadn’t noticed that there was something up with me.

Hopefully, I could pass it off as nothing more than fatigue and an early start if it came up again, but in the meantime, I would have to do a hell of a lot better job keeping my desires locked away while I was at work.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and made my way back down to my office. I needed to get back to work and get on top of everything I’d missed over the weekend. He’d told me to take some time off and relax, to come back refreshed on Monday, and here I was using up all my energy masturbating instead of replying to emails. What kind of assistant was I?

I slunk past the rows of people working in the offices not far from ours, as though all of them would know at a glance what I’d just done and were judging me harshly from where they sat. I finally arrived back in my office after what felt like the most protracted walk of shame endured by anyone ever, sat down at my desk, and stared blankly at the computer screen for a minute before I switched it on and set to work.