I've never been so wet in my life. Never been so turned on. I'm clutching the edge of Matthew's desk, my knuckles white, while he devours me from behind, his rough tongue hot against the most sensitive pieces of me.

I can hardly stand it.

It's white-hot pleasure, his tongue on my pussy, and I don't know if it's because I'm alive with his baby, or just because he is a master of my body, but it doesn't take long at all for him to drive me up and over the edge of an orgasm.

His hands are firm on my thighs, holding me in place, and for once in my life I feel absolutely safe, absolutely secure.

Secure enough to come in his mouth, my body shaking with it, rocking with it, juices gushing onto his lips. 

That's when I hear the knock on the door, and my entire body freezes. I couldn't move a muscle if I tried.

A thousand thoughts flood my head, but the loudest one is that I don't want this to stop. I don't want this to stop. 

But hard on its heels is the warning, screamed out in the back of my mind: if that door opens, and I'm caught here, with Matthew, I'll never live it down.

I'm already in this job in the first place because my ex, Peter, took it upon himself to spread rumors about me at the local papers. Most of them wouldn't even give me an interview when I started applying for work after graduation. At the one place that let me snag an in-person meeting, the guy interviewing me mostly ignored my answers to the questions or deliberately misunderstood me. 

I try to stand up, but Matthew is already standing behind me, pressing me down to the surface of the desk. “No.” It's a low, low growl, but I hear it, and I can't help but obey.

I should get up right now and straighten my skirt, pull it back down over my ass, and find wherever he threw my panties so I can hide them somewhere, but his hand is firm on my back.

More juices gush between my legs. I don't want to get caught and have my reputation ruined once and for all, but the thought of someone standing just outside that door while Matthew—while he—

He slides two fingers into my opening and works them in and out, fucking me in a deliciously tantalizing rhythm. I shove a knuckle into my mouth to muffle the sounds that I can't stop making and spread my legs an inch wider.

The knock comes again. “Mr. Hunter?”

I recognize the voice. So does Matthew. It's because the voice belongs to Bernadette, the woman who sits at the desk in the main lobby.

Matthew works another finger inside me before he answers. “Yes?”

“There's a visitor to see you, Mr. Hunter.”

In response, Matthew reaches for his zipper and pulls his fingers out. I have to stifle a mewl of disappointment, but I'm glad I do, because in the next instant I can feel the thick head of his cock against my opening. He teases me with it, pushing it in just a fraction of an inch and drawing it back out.

“I'm busy, Bernadette.” His voice is level and calm. There's no way she knows what's going on in here. Although it is rare for Matthew to lock his office door... She might make an assumption that could screw us both over.

“Are you—” There's an uncertainty in her voice. I know just how she feels. She doesn't want to question him, but clearly whoever is visiting must have made her feel that it was of the utmost importance. “Would you happen to have five minutes open on your schedule?”

It's hard to focus on what's happening outside the door because Matthew finally thrusts the head of his cock—just the head—inside of me. I could beat the desk with frustration, and I buck back against him, running into the pressure of his hands. I'm powerless bent over this desk, and I love it. I love it. 

Maybe I love him.

I gasp at the thought, but it's a muted sound. I'm sure Bernadette and whoever else is out there won't have heard a thing. Matthew takes the opportunity then to rock his hips forward, taking me completely, all of him plunging deep inside me in one powerful thrust.

Now he lets a note of frustration creep into his tone. “Bernadette, I'm reviewing important scheduling details for my trip next week.” He actually has a trip next week—to Baltimore—but I made the arrangements weeks ago. Bernadette wouldn't know that, though. Thank God.

“It's a rather urgent request,” she says, and Matthew thrusts into me again.

I stay silent, but the effort is so intense and so fucking hot that I'm about to come for the second time. On Matthew's next thrust, I do, my muscles tightening around his hardness penetrating my core. It’s even more intense than the first orgasm. A third might knock me out completely.

“Who needs to see me?” Matthew asks, and I’m on the verge of exploding again just at the sound of his voice. My nipples are achingly hard against the fabric of my shirt. I want to beg him to make me come, but I’m not sure if my body can stand it.

“Peter Cunningham.”

At the name, my body goes cold, and I rear up. Matthew is instantly pressing me back down, driving himself into me again. At least in this moment, I’m not going to react. I’m going to let him fuck me, because this is all pleasure, and Peter is all pain. My heart rockets into my throat. 

I twist around in Matthew’s grip, scrambling backward onto his desk and spreading my legs wide again. The sight of his blue eyes calms me, steadies me…and makes me even hotter. He takes my ass in his hands, balancing me right on the edge of the desk, and drives himself into me one more time. 

One, two, three thrusts, and I'm coming hard, juices coating his cock, and Matthew looks right into my eyes as he follows suit, his heat filling me.

“Get him on my schedule for next week,” he says when the orgasm has subsided, but he doesn’t move an inch. He just pulls me closer, and I lean against his chest, trying to catch my breath.

I don't say another word.