Chapter 59 Confession No. 41: Office Hours Only
Chapter 59 Confession No. 41: Office Hours Only
The hum of the office air conditioning masked the pulse that throbbed in Nia’s ears. She sat across from Mr. Rhoades, the sharp eyed Managing Director of Whitlock & Haynes, who had just dismissed the rest of the team from the quarterly review. Her chair felt suddenly too small, the room too quiet, and his gaze far too piercing.
He stood slowly, tall and devastatingly composed in a tailored navy suit. The tension between them had been simmering for weeks subtle brushes in the hallway, knowing glances during meetings, a few too long stares during after work drinks. But neither had crossed the line.
Until now.
“I asked you to stay behind,” Mr. Rhoades said, voice calm and deliberate. “Not because of the report. That was just an excuse.”
Nia blinked. “Sir?”
He stepped closer. “You’ve been testing my patience, Miss Clarke.”
“I, I didn’t mean to”
His hand cut the air. “Don’t lie. You know exactly what you’re doing. The way you bite your lip when I walk by. The skirt that gets shorter every Friday. I run this firm with precision. But you” He circled behind her. “You tempt chaos.”
She shivered as he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Do you want to confess something, Nia?”
The use of her first name crumbled the last of her resistance. Her breath trembled as she whispered, “Yes, sir.”
“Then stand up,” he commanded. “And face the window.”
She obeyed, her heart pounding, hands trembling at her sides as the city skyline stretched before her. She heard him lock the office door, each click of the latch tightening the knot in her stomach.
“Tell me everything you’ve imagined,” he said, now behind her. “Start with the truth.”
Nia closed her eyes. “I dream about this. About being alone with you. About you taking control. About being punished for wanting it.”
“Punished?” His voice was velvet and threat all at once.
“Yes,” she confessed. “Every time you touched my hand in passing, I wanted you to do more. Every time you said ‘good work,’ I wanted it to mean more. I wanted to kneel under your desk and take your praise the way I needed it.”
A low groan escaped him. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Nia.”
He pressed her palms flat against the glass. From twenty floors up, no one could see but the danger thrilled her.
Her skirt rose at his command, and his palm landed sharply on her bare skin. She gasped, biting her lip to keep from moaning. Another strike. And another. He spanked her until her cheeks were warm and tears pricked her eyes not from pain, but from the overwhelming release of finally giving in.
“You’ve earned this,” he growled, and unzipped his trousers. "Now take it like you imagined."
She dropped to her knees, head swimming as she obeyed. He grabbed her hair, holding her steady. The office became their confessional booth, his groans and her moans echoing in the high rise silence. He whispered filthy praise, telling her how long he’d dreamed of ruining her perfect posture and hearing her choke on his name.
Afterwards, he pulled her into his lap on the couch. Her face buried in his shoulder, makeup smudged, thighs still shaking.
“You know this changes everything,” he said quietly.
Nia looked up. “I don’t want to stop.”
His eyes darkened. “Neither do I. But this doesn’t happen again in secret. You’re mine now, Nia. Not just after hours.”
She smiled, exhausted and exhilarated. “Then make me yours during office hours too, sir.”
He grinned, wicked and hungry. “Oh, I intend to.”