My Ceo

"I'm sorry babe, but I have to go," my fiancée whispers into my ear. "Enjoy your party, and thank Michael for throwing it for us. I'll see you tonight?"

"Yes," I say softly. "What's the plan?"

"First, I'm taking you to your favorite restaurant, and then we're going back to my place for dessert." He winks at me.

"Sounds lovely," I say unconvincingly.

He seems not to notice and gives me a peck on the cheek before he presses the elevator button for down. I stare out of the high rise's floor-to-ceiling windows as the elevator door next to them closes.

As the workday winds down, the impromptu engagement party that Michael, the CEO of the company, planned for me is slowly dwindling in the number of party guests. I say a quick goodbye to the rest of my co-workers and head down the hallway. I hear my classic black heels click against the tan marble floor until I reach the door of the conference room. I love sitting in here when it's empty. The elongated black oak table stretches across the room, empty black leather chairs lined up around it like soldiers at attention. I sit in the middle, facing the closed oak wood door. I think about all the memories in this room - the meetings, the presentations, the countless nights Michael and I spent building our company from scratch. We always had an unspoken connection, ever since he accidentally bumped into me at soccer practice, physically and figuratively knocking the wind out of my chest with his concrete pecs. That was sophomore year of high school. Though we didn't talk much then, fate brought us together time and time again. Once during college, he happened to be in the same restaurant and ended up walking me home after my date stood me up.

He hired me after grad school and I helped him build his advertising company. As the years went by, we grew closer and closer together. I could tell he felt something towards me by the way he stole quick glances when he thought I wasn't looking, and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly downwards when I looked back at him. Every time our hands accidentally brushed together, a single heartbeat-skipping electric jolt surged through me. He was a gentleman though - always calm and cool like the ocean at night - he never tried to make a move. When I started noticing the differences in his body language towards me, it was too late - I was with the man who would eventually become my fiancée. So he never pursued his feelings. And neither did I.

The sound of the latch softly clicking brings me back to the present.

Michael.

He is beautiful. His hair is cut high on the top, short on the sides, and slicked over to the left. Golden, caramel skin radiates under his navy-blue suit and makes want to taste how sweet it is. His toned muscles push the seams of his white buttoned dress shirt to their limit. I lower my gaze past his belt for a millisecond, but I feel his stare on me and blush. I meet his gaze.

"Thank you for the lovely party."

"Anything for my CFO," he mutters. He tries to sound joyous, but his black eyes tell me different. They look hungry today.

"He told me to say thank you," I say quietly, and return my gaze to the table, deep in thought. I stare at my princess-cut diamond ring, unused to the weight of it on my finger.

"Are you really going to marry him?"

His question catches me off-guard. Looking up at him, I can see a twinge of jealousy when he squares his jaw. Jealousy looks so good on him. Anything looks good on him. I wonder how I would look on him.

"Yes."

"Are you in love with him?"

I pause.

"He's a good guy," I say after a while.

I could swear a smirk flashes across his face.

"Does he give you everything you need?"

"Yes." Almost.

My now-fiancée was definitely not lacking in looks also, but he lacked charm. Sure, his cock eventually made me come every Tuesday and Thursday (when he got off work early) like clockwork. Sure, he had a good career and made good money. He was safe. But when it came to passion and spontaneity... well, he had none. He was boring. He was vanilla, and I wanted caramel.

Michael walks towards me slowly, looking down at the marble, with his hands in his pockets. My heart beats faster with each step, jitters spreading from my stomach through my thighs with each tap of his shoes.

"I don't believe you," he calmly growls.

"It's not for you to believe," I say, my voice rising higher than I wanted it to. And with my voice, I rise out of my seat too. I'm standing face to face with his tense jaw, half angry and half turned on. I've never seen him like this. Besides rare moments of geeking out about 'cool' business strategies, he's usually calm and witty, but often quiet. Today, he seems... bewildered, determined. His eyes display a different determination than when he is working. Not like he is trying to land a new client, but like he is trying to reclaim something that already belongs to him.

"I saw you out there with him today. You can't tell me that he's giving you everything you need. Not like I would." A mixture of feelings rushes through me: surprise, euphoria, and dread. I decide to deal with the latter first.

"Did you find that line in a young adult romance novel?" I cringe.

"I'm being fucking serious." His expression shows no change from its stony resemblance before I blurted out my rude remark.

"Is that why you took it upon yourself to ambush me with an engagement party today, Michael?" I spit out, before I get a chance to think. His lips move slightly, wanting to smirk, but he maintains his neutral look.

"It was a surprise, not an ambush."

"I don't give a fuck what you want to call it, why are you doing this?" I snap. I'm fuming by now, but he seems to look more amused by the minute.

"Doing what?" he innocently asks with a shy smile. That's cute.

"Throwing the engagement party, then disappearing through all of it. Coming in here, telling me you can give me everything I need, like you're Prince fucking Charming. Why are you saying all of this now?"

The amusement is gone from his face now. Good.

"I waited for you to break up with him for three years. I didn't want to overstep my boundaries, and I figured you'd get bored of him eventually. I mean, you never even talk about him, and you act like people are talking about taxes when they ask about him. Then I saw that ring on your finger this morning, and my knees almost fucking gave out. Why the fuck did you say yes to him? You can't even tell me that you're in love with him, but you said yes," he points out.

When I don't answer, he continues.

"I thought seeing you two together would give me closure, but it drove me even more mad. I've been trying to deny my feelings for you for so long, but I can't anymore." He steps even closer towards me, closing the remaining distance between us quickly.

"Cheesy or not, this is my chance to tell you that I want you, with every single cell of my being. I know you feel it too." He tucks a stray strand of my chestnut-colored curls behind my ear and cups my chin with a firm hand. I close my eyes, unable to stare in his hungry, darkened eyes.

"I'm no longer going to pretend that you don't shudder every time I touch you or that I don't think about how you would shudder if my tongue was on you, or if you were wrapped around my waist, or if I was inside you. If you can't handle that, then forget I ever said anything. You can go back to picturing my face when he fucks you."

The last sentence makes me panic. I simultaneously open my eyes wide as I release a small gasp. I can't even imagine how my face must look. How did he know? I can't think of anything to say.

"I don't think of you when he fucks me." My voice is steady, but my eyes betray me. They flicker between him and the floor as he studies my face and the validity of my statement. Fuck. He knows. He smirks.

He pushes the chair to my right out of the way and leans against the table, only half-facing me. His eyes look up at me, crinkle, and he slowly moves closer again. I don't know what to do. My body freezes. I can taste his cologne on my salivating tongue. I can feel his eyes on my hardening nipples.

I want to fill the shortening distance between us, but instead of hurdling my mouth on his I decide to use words.

"I love him," I blurt out, trying to prevent him from coming closer. At this point my voice is too shaky with tension for him to buy it.

"I don't believe you," he says again, but this time he doesn't smile.

He grabs the back of my neck, pulls me toward his plump lips, and forces mine open with his tongue. As he bites my lower lip, he pushes me back against the wall, so hard my head crashes into it. My body is on fire, awakened from the champagne-induced stupor that set in during the party. He moves quickly, like a sandstorm, surrounding the desert with full force. He circles his tongue around mine. His hands are traveling in my hair, down my arms, up my lower back; they're everywhere. My mouth burns, craves, moans, begs for his. He growls as he's kissing me, and it reverberates through my whole body.

"I... Ove... Him...," I try to state again, but fail. Michael doesn't bother paying attention to my words. As he lifts his lips off mine, he uses the 2 seconds it takes to move them to my neck to say, "Tell me to stop, then."

I can't. I don't want him to. So I tell him that instead.

"Don't. Stop." He stops.

Fuck.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to, baby. But I sure want to do a lot of things to you."

He says it with a confidence that wasn't there moments ago; he knows there is no going back from this. He knows he has me, and that all it would take would be his lips on mine, our tongues overlapping.

I wrap my hand around his hair, pull him towards me and kiss his neck. He moans low and long. Fuck. I find his shirt buttons with my left hand, my right hand still busy tying knots in his luscious hair. Once his body is free of his shirt, I run my hands along his chest and down to his abs. When I get to his belt, he swiftly lifts me up, spins me around, and sits me on the table.

"Slow down baby," he purrs with a smile on his face. He doesn't mean it. He just wants to be in control. Immediately after, he undoes the buttons of my white blouse quickly, ferociously, ripping most of them clean off. His breathing becomes more erratic as he exposes my sheer white lace bra, and cups both of my breasts in his hands. I arch my back and moan. He sees this as an opportunity to spend more time nibbling on my neck, his decision rewarded with loud cries escaping my throat.

I stroke his cock through his pants, impatient to feel it on my palm. This time, he doesn't try to stop me. I undo his belt while his mouth takes elevator rides from my neck to my breasts and back. When his hard cock falls out of his pants, I run my hand down its long shaft. I can't wait to have all of him inside of me.

He slides his hand under my pencil skirt, ripping my delicate black lace panties, and circles his rough fingers around my clit. Though I spent a lot of time imagining what him touching me would feel like, a sharp gasp escapes my mouth before I can stop it. He stops kissing me, but presses down harder on my clit.

"I want to watch you make that sound again," he whispers in my ear, then moves his head back to stare into my eyes. I could tell he's back to his cocky self when he chews his bottom lip. He moves his fingers along my slit, and I let out a similar gasp when he uses an excruciatingly slow movement to slide them inside me. I bite my lip as his smooth fingers pump into me increasingly faster and let out a sharp exhale when my lungs can no longer hold my breath. He returns his attention to my lips and forges a path of wet kisses down to my stomach.

Grabbing the chair behind him, he sits on it and leans forward, admiring my legs spread on the table. He looks up at me as he starts sucking on my clit, my sharp moans transforming into unintelligible babbles. He pumps his fingers into me again, while circling my clit with his tongue. Both of my hands search for a good grip on his hair, which proves difficult to accomplish with my eyes closed. I arch my back and move my hips rhythmically against his tongue. I command his face closer into me, using tufts of his hair as reins. I can't even utter a complete word. As my incoherent ramblings speed up, he can tell I'm about to come and pumps faster, sucks harder, claws at my breasts and groans, "Come for me, baby."

"Fuck," I moan, "FUCK."

Just then, two pairs of heels could be heard click-clacking in the hallway toward the conference room. The women's voices grow louder too, and without looking up from his work, Michael reaches the hand that was gripping my tits over my face. He fills my mouth with all four of his fingers to keep me from screaming as the women walk by. Writhing under his tongue, I come. Hard. He looks at me with satisfaction, but I can tell his eyes are still hungry.

I want him to ram me up against the wall and fuck me, but I know I need to repay the favor first. I lift up off the table, and grip the handles of Michael's chair, pushing it back until its against the wall. I slowly lower myself on my knees, meeting his gaze, letting him know I'm just as famished as he is. I gently lick the tip of his cock until he rests his head back and closes his eyes, then slowly put his pulsating penis in my mouth. He immediately bends his elbows to his face and sighs into his hands. He lowers one of them to the back of my head, and gently guides my mouth up and down his shaft. Then, all of a sudden, he has me up on my feet. Grabbing my waist, he pulls me into his glistening caramel chest. I exhale sharply as he lifts me up and wraps my legs around his waist.

"I can't wait another second," he whispers as he pins me up against the wall and kisses me forcefully. He reaches down and teases me by creating friction back and forth my slit a few times. Then, he finally pushes his hard cock into me slowly. We simultaneously furrow our eyebrows, close our eyes, and moan when he buries himself completely inside me. As he bounces me up and down, he takes a mental picture, starting at the point where we connect, up to my tits jiggling up and down, and finally locks his gaze on my eyes. He holds my head in his hands, and we both moan loudly. He strokes fast, and I close my eyes as a sign of ecstasy. But he grabs a handful of my tits as he pushes into me and growls, "You don't have to close your eyes baby. I'm right here this time."

I feel a pang of guilt that's quickly overcome by the pulsating current spreading wider though my body every time he thrusts into me.

He smirks, moves his hands to my ass and tightens his fists around my cheeks. We're both panting now, and he tries to mask his screams by biting my neck, which only makes me scream harder. I really hope everyone else in the office already left. I can feel his entire body tense up, and I know he's about to come. Just the thought of that brings me closer to my own orgasm. But instead, he throws me off him and somehow I land on my feet. I think my face looks betrayed at the sudden change, because he chuckles as he sits on the chair he was on earlier.

"Ride me," he orders, and I obey. I carefully position myself on top of him, guiding his cock into my cunt with my back facing him. He grips my hips as I sit all the way down. And now it's my turn to bounce. He slaps my ass several times and when he begins tensing up again, I change my pattern as payback for the tease earlier. I hear a laugh under his raspy breaths and take it as a hint that he got my message. As I sit on his cock again, I move my hips in a circular motion around his slowly, and it makes both of us shudder joyously. We both gasp and moan, and I dig my nails into his arms when he wraps them around my waist.

"Fuck," he growls, and I can tell he's not in control anymore. His tone also suggests that he doesn't like that. In one swift movement, he pounces off the chair, with me still on him, and moves me to the table again - this time face-down. His cock never even left me. He slams himself against me as the cool table presses against my breasts and stomach, and I scream in pleasure. He grabs a fistful of my hair with one hand and my tits with the other. It makes me arch my back up, and now his chest is against my neck and his chin is resting over my shoulder. As soon as he gets me into this position, my screams reverberate through the room, writhing under him. The muscles between my legs spasm out of control, and I'm so close to coming I can feel the juices dripping down my leg. He nibbles on my ear and whispers, "Scream my name, baby," as he moves his hand from my tits to my neck, choking me.

"Michael," I sigh, out of breath.

"Louder," he growls, pounding into me harder and harder, his grip around my neck tightening.

"Michael," I moan, as I'm nearing orgasm.

"Louder!," He snarls, and I scream his name repetitively at the top of my lungs, mixed with moans and gasps and prayers and pleads until he makes me come so hard my knees buckle and almost collapse under me. I feel his warm cum explode inside my pussy, and I slow to a still as he thrusts all of it inside me.

When he's done, he leans down to kiss my neck.

"I want to do that to you every waking moment of my life," he says, as he twists my jaw over my shoulder to give me a long, passionate kiss. After a few moments, he finally lets me go and zips up his pants. We both try to gather our remaining clothes from the floor and he finishes getting dressed first.

He makes his way to the door, and turns around when he reaches it.

"Are you still going to marry him?" He asks, but this time there's no jealousy in his voice.

"I need some time to think," I mutter.

"Hey." he says confidently with a smirk on his face.

I briefly stop scanning the floor for lost buttons to meet his dark eyes.

"Enjoy celebrating your engagement tonight... Try not to scream my name when he's inside you."

Fuck.