Stepping out of the elevator, and into the plush lobby, I have one thing on my mind. The last email he sent wasn't his usual flirtatious banter, it was a very simple request. A plea that I am only too happy to answer.
"Fuck me," he'd typed.
Smoothing the fabric of my dress over my hips, I stride confidently towards his office, oblivious to all but the thoughts of this man, and what is about to happen. I don't knock. No need, I know that he's waiting for me.
The heavy wooden door opens smoothly, and I step into the opulent office. When I pause, he rises from his seat, watching me intently. Within seconds, the door is closed behind me, and I feel his breath on the back of my neck.
His hands on my hips, I am guided back towards the door. My hands rise to press against the satin wood, as his palms glide over my buttocks, squeezing ever so softly. He sinks to his knees, and I feel the press of his lips behind my knee, just as I feel those hands now rising beneath my dress to peel off the lace panties that have become dampened in anticipation.
Carefully, I step out of the wisp of fabric, and then his hands begin their journey upwards again. Standing once more, he guides my flame red dress over my head, and I am left leaning against the door wearing only the heels he had bought for me a week earlier.
When I can no longer bear the silent torture, to be so near, but not touching, I turn. My eyes meet his, and then our mouths collide, hot and moist. Devouring. My hands cup his handsome face, his hands are on my breasts, teasing nipples so hard. Between the cool wooden door, and the fabric of his suit, my body is tingling with sensation.
He pulls back, leaving me gasping. He removes his clothes with quick deliberation, watching me all the while. The rise of my breasts with every breath, the clenching of my fists, the way I twist my heel into the carpet, nothing escapes his heavy-lidded gaze. And not one inch of his delicious frame escapes mine.
