Chapter 106 You are On Your Final Warning
Lunch had gone quieter after that — the easy kind of silence that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill it.
Bryson worked through half his plate, distracted more by the sight of her perched across the desk than the food itself.
Amelia cleared the last of the containers, tucking everything neatly back into the basket. “I'm proud of you, you actually ate” she said, smiling as she wiped a small spot from the edge of his desk.
He leaned back in his chair, watching her move. “Yes, you did all of this for me.”
She laughed under her breath. “Someone had to make sure you took an actual break.”
When she turned back, his gaze was still on her — steady, quiet, unreadable in that way that always made her pulse trip.
“What?” she asked softly.
He shook his head, lips curving faintly. “Just thinking I’m a lucky bastard.”
Amelia’s cheeks warmed. She set the basket aside and crossed the short space between them, her voice low. “You’re not finished yet.”
Bryson arched a brow. “No?”
She stopped beside his chair, fingers brushing his shoulder. “Not until dessert.”
His mouth twitched. “You brought dessert?”
Her eyes darkened — slow, deliberate. “Mhm.”
Before he could speak again, she eased onto his lap, her knees bracketing his thighs, the hem of her dress grazing his hands. The faint scent of her perfume — soft, clean, faintly citrus— filled the air between them.
“Amelia…” His voice dropped, a warning wrapped in a groan.
“Shh.” She smiled, tracing the edge of his jaw with her thumb. “You’ve been good. You deserve something sweet.”
He exhaled hard, one hand coming to rest at her waist. “You sure about this timing, sweetheart? I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.”
“Then we shouldn’t waste a second,” she whispered.
The air shifted — no rush, no spectacle, just the quiet gravity of two people who knew exactly what they meant to each other. She kissed him first — slow, lingering, a taste that said more than words ever could.
Bryson’s hand slid up her back, his control unraveling in degrees as he kissed her back, deeper this time, the sound of it soft and hungry all at once.
When they finally pulled apart, Amelia brushed her lips against his cheek and murmured, “Now you’re ready for dessert.”
He smiled, still catching his breath. “You’re dangerous.”
Her eyes sparkled. “You like it.”
“Too much,” he said, voice rough but tender.
She leaned in once more, her smile lazy and satisfied. “Good.”
"I want to taste you," she murmured, her breath hot against his mouth. "Want to feel you in my mouth, want to swallow every drop of your cum."
She punctuated her words with a deep, hungry kiss, her tongue delving into his mouth to tangle with his own. Bryson groaned into the kiss, his cock already hardening beneath her ass.
Amelia broke the kiss and slid off his lap, moving to kneel between his legs. She made quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing his large, thick cock from the confines of his pants. It sprang up, long and hard and already leaking pre-cum.
"Oh, Bryson," she breathed, wrapping a hand around his shaft and stroking him slowly. "You're already so hard for me, I love it."
Bryson's eyes closed as he took in this beautiful woman in front of him. Breath hitching at the sounds of her words.
She leaned in, her tongue flicking out to lick a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, swirling around the sensitive head. Bryson let out a low, guttural moan, his hips twitching forward slightly.
Amelia took him into her mouth, her lips stretching obscenely around his girth as she took him deep. She had no gag reflex, and she used that to her advantage, swallowing him again and again until her nose was pressed against the tiny stuble at the base of his shaft.
Bryson was amazed at her skill, at the way she took him so deep and so eagerly. He could feel her throat muscles massaging his cock as she deep throated him, the sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before.
Just as he was losing himself in the incredible feeling of Amelia's mouth on his cock, there was a sudden knock at his office door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Bryson froze, his body tensing as he heard the sound. Amelia, undeterred, simply moaned around his thick shaft, the vibrations making his eyes roll back in bliss.
"Bryson?" a female voice called out from the other side of the door. "I have the files you requested for the meeting. It's in ten minutes, sir." Maxine stated.
Bryson swallowed hard, trying to gather his wits as he struggled to hold back the impending orgasm that was building rapidly at the base of his spine. He couldn't let Maxine catch them in such a compromising position.
"J-just a moment," he managed to grit out, his voice strained and tight with the effort of holding back. Under the desk, Amelia sucked harder, taking him impossibly deep and swallowing around his pulsing length.
Maxine paused, sensing something was amiss. "Is everything alright, sir? You sound...flustered."
Bryson clenched his jaw, biting back a groan as Amelia's nose pressed against his groin and she deep throated him with wild abandon. "I'm f-fine," he bit out from between clenched teeth. "I just...need a moment. I'll be out in a few minutes."
Maxine hesitated, glancing at the closed door, her brow furrowed. She knew Amelia had come to the office with Bryson for a private lunch, and she hadn't left yet.
Under the desk, Amelia could sense Bryson's growing desperation, could feel how close he was to exploding. She doubled her efforts, sucking hard and fast, determined to make him come undone.
With a strangled gasp, Bryson finally lost the battle. His cock jerked and pulsed as he exploded down Amelia's greedy throat, spurt after spurt of his hot seed pumping into her mouth and down her throat.
Amelia swallowed it all, while staring right into Bryson's eyes, not wanting to waste a single drop of his precious cum. As Bryson shuddered and clenched above her, she slowly pulled back, letting his softening cock slip from her well-used mouth.
She looked up at him with a wicked, satisfied grin, a bit of his seed still clinging to her plump lips.
"Mmm, you taste even better than last night," she purred, her voice low and husky from the thorough throat fucking she had just given him. "I love the way you fill my mouth and my throat with your cum."
She leaned in close, her breath hot against his sensitive flesh as she rubbed the head of his cock all over her cum-stained lips, marking herself with his essence. At the same time, she licked her lips slowly and sensually, savoring the combined taste of their afternoon session.
Bryson watched her in complete awe as she rubbed his softening penis all around her mouth, licking her lips in pleasure.
By the time they were done, the office had gone impossibly still.
The city hummed beyond the glass, but inside it was nothing but the faint sound of their breathing.
Bryson leaned back in his chair, utterly wrecked — jacket gone, tie loose, eyes half-lidded in quiet disbelief. Amelia, on the other hand, was the picture of composure.
She rose from his desk slowly, smoothing her skirt into place with steady hands. Her hair fell perfectly back into order, and she moved with quiet grace, every motion deliberate and unhurried.
Bryson watched her, still catching his breath, one hand dragging through his hair as a low chuckle escaped him. “You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges.
She only smiled faintly, eyes glinting as she adjusted her blouse. “You say that like it’s news.”
He huffed a laugh, sitting forward and reaching for his discarded tie. “News or not, you’ve got me completely gone, sweetheart.”
Amelia’s lips curved at that — a soft, knowing smile. She turned toward his private bathroom, the subtle sway of her hips not lost on him.
The soft click of the door followed, and Bryson exhaled, running both hands down his face. He stood and started putting himself back together — straightening his shirt, shrugging on his jacket, pulling his tie into place with practiced hands. When he caught his reflection in the glass, he shook his head, a slow grin tugging at his mouth.
The man looking back at him wasn’t the one who started this morning in meetings and numbers. This one was lighter, undone in the best way.
A few minutes later, Amelia reappeared — refreshed, hair smoothed, the faint scent of mint lingering. She looked every bit as calm as if they’d just finished coffee, not each other.
Bryson was still fastening his cufflinks when she crossed to him, eyes soft but focused.
“You ready for your meeting?” she asked, reaching up to straighten the tie he’d just half-fixed.
He caught her wrist gently, his thumb brushing her pulse. “You’re unreal.”
She smiled up at him. “Focus, Mr. Hearst. You’ve got two minutes.”
He grinned, following her to the door, still trying to shake the daze she left him in.
The moment they stepped out, Marcus and Evan were already standing nearby, posted at the end of the hall. Both men straightened immediately.
“Boss,” Marcus greeted with an easy grin meant for Amelia. “Martina wanted to confirm your four o’clock with Danielle.”
Amelia turned back toward Bryson, her voice gentle but sure. “Oh, and baby?”
His head lifted instantly, eyes softening. “Yes?”
“I need you home a little earlier today. We have to meet with Danielle at four.”
He nodded without hesitation, gaze locked on her. “I’ll be there.”
The words carried quiet promise — no negotiation, no pretense, just absolute certainty.
Maxine, still frozen behind her desk, watched the entire exchange. The easy way Amelia spoke his name, the instant way he answered — more than love; it was connection. The kind that left no room for doubt.
Before she could recover, Bryson’s hand slid around Amelia’s waist. He kissed her in front of everyone — deep, certain, utterly unbothered by witnesses.
When he drew back, his voice was low and warm. “I’ll see you at home.”
Amelia’s eyes were still glazed from the kiss, her voice soft. “Okay.”
Then she turned, that quiet strength settling back over her, and met Maxine’s stare. “Maxine, you’re on a final warning.”
Bryson’s mouth curved in amusement.
Maxine’s head snapped toward him, desperate. “Mr. Hearst—”
He lifted a hand, still smiling. “Don’t look at me. She’s the queen.”
Amelia smirked faintly and adjusted the strap of her basket. “Don’t be late for your meeting sweetheart.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was half play, half devotion.
Marcus and Evan exchanged a quick, knowing glance — the kind that said even they couldn’t pretend not to be impressed.
As Amelia walked toward the elevator, Marcus and Evan Close. Bryson’s gaze followed her every step. She didn’t need to look back — she could feel it.
Amelia hadn’t hardened.
She’d learned.
She’d learned what it cost to be gracious while being targeted. What it meant to smile through whispers, to absorb blame that was never hers, to cry quietly in the dark while the world dissected her pain like spectacle. She’d learned that grace didn’t mean silence, and kindness didn’t mean surrender.
She had taken everything — the betrayal, the humiliation, the quiet cruelty of women who sharpened their envy into weapons, an ex-husband who detonated her life and then watched her bleed without flinching — and she had survived it without becoming small.
But she was done being stepped on.
This wasn’t a woman turning cruel or careless with her power. This was a woman who had finally decided she would no longer apologize for taking up space, for being chosen, for being loved loudly and without condition.
She still led with softness where it mattered. Still protected what was sacred. Still loved with depth and loyalty.
But she no longer made herself smaller for the comfort of people who never carried her weight.
Amelia Prescott hadn’t become a queen overnight.
She had earned every inch of the crown —
and she would not be laying it down.
And when the doors closed behind her, the hum of the floor returned to life — except for Maxine, who stood motionless at her desk, finally understanding:
Amelia Prescott wasn’t just the woman in Bryson Hearst’s life.
She was his gravity.