I can’t believe I’m in Wes’s office, sucking his cock. When I told him I wanted to be alone, I knew he figured out I wanted him, but when we started talking about work, I thought I’d gotten it all wrong.

Until he locked the door and came to me with that look in his eye, the look men get when they’re sure that something is going to happen.

And now I’m on my knees between his legs, his cock hard and straining and glistening from my spit.

“Sit down on the couch,” he orders.

The commanding tone has my pussy clenching. I immediately do as he says. I move so that I’m sitting, and he’s kneeling on the floor. He pushes up my pencil skirt, and the cool air of the room brushes my bare pussy. My stockings are the kind that have lace tops, and I haven’t bothered with panties. I wanted this. I know it’s wrong, but I figured that if we got around to doing this, I would be ready for him. And if not, no one would know any better.

He looks at my pussy, practically salivating before he looks up at my face.

“You’re not wearing anything under here.” It comes out like a growl.

My whole body feels it. I shake my head, smiling at him.

The surprise on his face is worth it. His eyes change before he looks at me again, his pupils dilating, his expression hungry. He pushes the skirt up so it’s bunched around my hips, and I’m naked from the waist down save for my high heels. Wes reaches for me and brushes his fingers along the smooth skin of my labia.

I shiver. He pushes his fingers into my slit and my breathing changes, become faster, shallower. I’m already wet for him – I already was before he started kissing me.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” he asks.

It’s hard to think when he rubs his fingers over my clit. I pull up one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“What if I did?” I ask, but it’s hard to sound arrogant when my voice hitches.

I almost can’t believe I’m doing this. Yeah, I briefly considered using sex to bring him down once I realized he was attracted to me. But never seriously. That’s not how I play. I’m doing this right now because I just can’t fucking resist him. And yeah, maybe that’s playing with fire. But right now, all I want is to get burned. Consumed. Scorched by the flames he’s igniting in my body.

Wes flashes a devilish smile and pushes his fingers into me. I gasp. He slides one finger in and out of my pussy. Before long, he adds another finger. I moan softly while he finger fucks me. Wes looks up at me, his eyes impossibly green before he dips his head and closes his mouth around my clit.

He’s still pumping his fingers in and out of me, and his tongue finds my clit. He flicks his tongue over me, and I gasp, writhing on the couch, balanced between his hand and his mouth. He pumps his fingers faster and sucks my clit into his mouth. I whimper. My hands are in his hair, and I move my hips while he works me over.

I can feel an orgasm building. Waves of shivers wash over my body, and my core clenches. The orgasm suddenly rocks through me, and I arch my back on the couch, my body tightens, and I pull Wes’s face into my pussy, moving my hips, riding his face as the orgasm takes hold of me.

When it slowly releases, I collapse back and breathe hard.

I swallow and look at Wes. His fingers are still inside me, moving in and out slowly. His eyes are on me, and he’s grinning, wicked satisfaction all over his face.

“You’re fucking hot when you do that,” he says. Right now, he’s someone other than the boss that I work for, the man that handled the interviews. In the office, he’s always calm and collected, he does what is right and proper. Now that the door is shut and it’s just the two of us doing things that are borderline sex – no, fucking – the real man beneath his façade shines through.

And I want that man to take me. Even though I know I shouldn’t. That it’s a dangerous game I’m playing. I don’t care.

Wes holds out his hand, and I take it. He pulls me up and against him, planting a kiss on my lips. His tongue slips into my mouth. He takes a few steps to the side and moves me with him, almost like we’re dancing.

The kiss doesn’t last very long. He spins me around, and I’m facing the side of the couch, the armrest in front of me. Wes bends me over, one hand on my hip and one on my back to assume a position where my ass is on display for him. It’s like he was reading my mind. I love how he’s so controlling, taking me and doing as he pleases.

I swallow and breathe hard through my mouth. I shiver with anticipation. He’s going to take me. Hard. I know it. And there’s nothing I want more.

His hands are on my ass, squeezing the cheeks, pulling them apart slightly. His fingers plunge into my pussy again, and I’m hot and wet and ready for him.

A moment later, he replaces his fingers with his cock and slams into me with one deep, hard thrust.

I gasp. He’s big – bigger than I thought he would be considering he was in my mouth – and my body yields and stretches to accommodate him.

He moves slowly into me, and I’m tight around him, my walls gripping his cock and pulling him deeper into me.

When he’s buried as deep inside me as he can be, he pauses, and the office is filled with our labored breathing for a moment. I brace myself with my hands on the armrest.

Wes pulls out of me almost all the way – just the tip is still inside me – when he slams into me. This time, there’s nothing gentle about it. He fucks me hard, hammering into me and pulling out again. I cry out before I catch myself. I must keep quiet. I don’t want the office to know that I’m letting Wes fuck me on his couch.

I don’t have a lot of time to think about how loud I’m being. He keeps slamming into me, jerking my body forward with every thrust. My breasts are still hanging out of my shirt, and I feel dirty. I love it. All my previous escapades with men have been careful, gentle, by-the-book. It’s not the case, now. This is hard and dirty, the stuff of fantasy. I barely know Wes more than the fact he’s the CEO here.

His hands are on my hips, fingers digging into my skin. He holds me in position and pounds into me. I’m starting to edge toward losing control again. I close my eyes and get lost in the sensation, get lost in the feel of his cock pounding into me, my body rocking back and forth, breasts spilling out of my shirt.

I’m fucking my boss in his office. Or rather, he’s fucking me.

The orgasm building creeps ever closer, but then he pulls out of me. I whimper for a different reason. After being so full, I’m suddenly empty.

Wes walks around the couch again. His cock is hard and slick with our sex, bobbing a little as he walks. He sits down where he was for his blowjob. He looks at me, his eyes on my exposed breasts, first, before they slowly trail up to my face.

“Get on,” he orders. “I want you to ride me.”

I straighten up. My skirt is around my waist like a belt, and I’m so wet I can feel it when I walk toward Wes. He’s made me a dripping, horny mess. And I’m reveling in it, every command driving me wilder.

I climb onto his lap. My legs are on either side of his, and I hover over his cock. I kiss him before I reach down with my hand and position him so that I can slide onto him.

When I lower myself onto him, he groans, his face orgasmic for a moment. He closes his eyes. I sit down on him, moving a little to position him comfortably inside me. When he opens his eyes again, they’re dilated and focused on my breasts that spill out of my shirt.

I start moving on top of him, bucking my hips, riding him. His cock slides in and out of me, and the friction is fantastic. He’s huge, and he hits me in all the right spots. Wes has his hands on my hips, guiding my movements. I ride faster and faster. I close my eyes, tip my head back and slide up and down his cock. I’m breathing hard. The sex is so fucking good, and the secrecy of it, how naughty it is, adds to the thrill. I’ve never fucked anyone in an office, and certainly never my boss.

An orgasm starts building slowly, the muscles clenching at my core. I gasp and moan, trying to keep it down. I don’t want everyone to know what we’re doing, but it’s hard to keep quiet when the sex is this good.

“Shh, baby,” Wes says in a low voice. He touches my throat with his fingertips, palming my neck and squeezing lightly. I gasp, shocked by how much I love the eroticism of his hand on my throat. It feels dangerous. His touch is electric. But at the same time, somehow, despite everything I know about this man, I know he won’t hurt me.

I moan, rocking my hips back and forth. Moans continue to slip out – I’m failing to swallow them – but my gasps are breathy, and I hope they’re not too loud.

“They’re going to hear us, Kylie,” Wes says. He’s not calling me a pet name but using my real name. I swallow and try to keep it down. When I can’t seem to manage, Wes lifts his hand to my mouth. He doesn’t cover my mouth in a way that seems forceful or rude. Instead, he pushes a finger between my lips.

I suck on his finger, and it’s hot as hell. I work my hips around his cock, and I suck his finger the way I sucked his cock. With my mouth occupied, I don’t have a chance to make a lot of noise, and it works to keep my moans muffled. I lean forward a little, changing the angle of my hips as I ride him, and it pushes my clit right up against his pubic bone.

It’s a little rough when I ride him, rubbing up against him like this, but the friction against my clit is just what I need. The orgasm I’d been working on suddenly shifts into a new gear. I’m getting lost in the sensation, the heat that pulses through my body. It’s like Wes ignited a spark with the first orgasm and now I’m coaxing that spark until it’s a flame. Heat spreads slowly through my body, growing inside me. I’m aware of my legs rubbing against the couch, Wes’s pants beneath my ass that aren’t as comfortable as I would like, and my blouse that restricts my breasts.

Again, just as I think about it, Wes removes his finger from my mouth and reaches for my breasts. He cups them in both his hands for a moment before he reaches for the buttons below and undoes them one by one. When my blouse hangs open, my breasts are still pushed up by my bra.

“It clasps at the front,” I say in a breathy voice.

Wes frowns at me.

“The bra. The clasp isn’t at the back.”

I like wearing bras that clasp at the front. It’s comfortable to put on and take off, and it’s entertaining to watch men fumble, confused when they can’t find it at the back. But I’m not going to wait until we’re alone to watch Wes fumble.

But I should have known a man like Wes doesn’t fumble. With a quick flick, Wes has my bra open, my breasts hanging free. He cups them again and kneads them for a short while before he lets them go and admires them.

With my rocking back and forth, my full breasts swing and jiggle, and I know that men love it. Wes stares at them. His hands slide up and down my thighs.

I focus on my orgasm again. It’s building, growing larger and larger like I’m a cup, filling with hot water, and soon I’m going to spill over.

The orgasm builds to an insanely intense peak before suddenly washing over me. I squeeze my eyes shut and cry out, hoping it’s not too loud, and lean forward. I’m not making sounds anymore. For a moment, I stop breathing altogether. My muscles contract, my body curls around Wes’s and I press my face against his shoulder, to hell with makeup. To hell with everything apparently. Against my better judgment, I just fucked my boss. The CEO of the company I’m here to take down. Yet I can’t bring myself to regret it. In fact, all I want is to go again.

When the orgasm fades, I can breathe again, and I’m gasping for air. My muscles clench around Wes’s cock, still pulsing. I realize he’s breathing hard, too.

I lift myself up and look at him.

He puts his hand behind my neck and pulls me forward for another kiss.