Chapter 187 Bend Over My Desk
My breaths came faster. I plunged two fingers inside, curling them, pumping while my thumb worked my clit. The wet sounds echoed off the tile. My free hand pinched my nipple through my blouse, twisting just enough to sting. Pressure built low in my belly, spreading hot through my thighs. I came with a choked cry—walls clenching hard around my fingers, slick dripping down my wrist, legs buckling until I had to grip the sink.
I cleaned up, fixed my skirt, and walked back to my desk on shaky legs. The reports were done. I emailed them to Damien, then scheduled a calendar invite for tomorrow after hours: "Performance Discussion - Elena."
As I gathered my things, my phone buzzed. It was Sarah, my work friend from accounting. I answered on speaker while packing. "Hey, you still there?"
"Yeah, just leaving," I whispered, glancing at Damien's office. "God, Sarah, this job is killing me. Damien's so intense. I can't stop thinking about him bending me over his desk, choking me a little, fucking me senseless."
She laughed. "Girl, you're obsessed. Be careful—he might hear you one day."
I giggled, hanging up, not knowing Damien had stepped out of his office just in time to catch every word through the thin walls.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting.
DAMIEN
I sat in my office after hours, the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows like a million tiny eyes watching. The clock on my computer read 8:45 p.m. Everyone else had left—except her. Elena. My new assistant. I'd caught her words last night through the thin glass wall, whispering to her friend about wanting me to bend her over, choke her, fuck her senseless. It had been playing on loop in my head all day.
I leaned back in my leather chair, pulling up the security footage from earlier. There she was, at her desk, pencil skirt hugging that round ass as she bent to file something. The way she bit her lower lip when concentrating—full, pink, begging to be bruised. My cock stirred in my slacks, thickening against the zipper. I palmed it once, then unzipped slow, freeing the heavy length. It sprang out—thick, veined, the shaft curving slightly up, head flared wide and already leaking a bead of precum that I smeared over the tip with my thumb.
"Fuck," I muttered, stroking from base to tip in long, firm pulls. The skin was hot, stretched tight over the ridges. Eight inches of meat that had ruined more women than I could count. I remembered the last assistant—Sarah, married, her wedding ring glinting under the desk lamp as she begged me to fill her on this very desk. I'd bent her over, spread her cheeks, and slammed in deep while she sobbed my name. Before her, Lisa—on her knees under the conference table during a call, swallowing my load while her husband texted her goodnight.
But Elena? She was different. Fresh. Obsessed already. I could tell from the way she squirmed in meetings, thighs pressed together like she was trying not to drip on the chair. I pumped faster, imagining her mouth stretched around me, those big eyes watering as I fucked her throat. My balls drew up tight, heavy with need. I came with a low groan—thick ropes shooting across my abs, splattering the shirt I hadn't bothered to unbutton. I kept stroking through it, milking every drop, breath ragged.
I cleaned up with a tissue from the drawer, tucked myself away, and hit the intercom. "Elena, come in for your performance review."
She walked in two minutes later, cheeks pink, eyes darting to the floor. That skirt clung to her hips, blouse tucked tight enough to show the outline of her bra. She stood in front of my desk, hands clasped. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Blackwood?"
I stood, circling around to her side, close enough that she could feel the heat off my body. "I heard every word you said last night. On the phone to your friend. About wanting my cock down your throat. Wanting me to choke you, fuck you senseless on this desk."
Her eyes went wide, mouth opening in shock. "I—I didn't—"
"Very naughty employee," I said, voice low and rough. I stepped closer, backing her against the desk until her ass hit the edge. "You've been thinking about it all week. Haven't you?"
She swallowed hard, nodding once. Her breathing picked up, chest heaving. I could smell her—clean soap mixed with that faint, musky hint of arousal.
I grabbed her wrist gently but firmly, guiding her hand to the front of my slacks. My cock was already hardening again, the outline thick under the fabric. "Feel what you do to me."
She gasped, but her fingers curled around it through the material, tracing the length. It throbbed under her touch, growing fully hard—hot, insistent.
"Turn around," I ordered. "Bend over the desk."
She did it, skirt riding up her thighs as she leaned forward, palms flat on the wood. I flipped the skirt up, exposing her ass in lacy black panties. The crotch was dark with wetness, clinging to her pussy lips. I hooked a finger under the edge, pulling them aside. Her folds were pink, swollen, slick glistening in the low light.
"So wet already," I murmured, dragging my thumb along her slit slow. She shivered. I circled her clit through the damp fabric first—light, teasing pressure that made her hips twitch. "Your cunt's so eager just from my voice. Excellent responsiveness. Means you're built for this kind of pressure."
She moaned—low, uncontrolled—pushing back against my hand. I slipped the panties down her thighs, letting them pool at her knees. Two fingers traced her entrance, collecting her slick before pushing in deep. Her walls clenched around them instantly, hot and velvety, sucking me in.
"I'm married," she whispered, voice breaking, but her hips rolled back, fucking herself on my fingers.
"I know," I said, twisting them slow, curling to drag over that spongy spot inside. "That's what makes this so filthy. Your husband doesn't know how to handle this pussy, does he?"
She gasped, thighs trembling. I added my thumb to her clit—circles turning firmer, then light flicks that made her buck. Her moans got louder, echoing off the windows. Slick coated my hand, dripping down her inner thighs. I pumped faster, scissoring my fingers to stretch her, thumb grinding relentless.
She tried to muffle a cry, biting her lip, but it spilled out anyway—loud, needy. Her walls flutt
ered, clamping down hard as the orgasm hit. She came with a shudder, pussy spasming around my fingers, fresh gush of slick soaking my palm.