The following story contains adult content and is inappropriate for under 18’s.
“Meet me downstairs.”
I’m sure that the stuffy men in suits seated at the boardroom table can hear my heart as it pounds in my chest. Three little words is all it takes to set my heart racing. Well, three little words sent via text and a steamy look from the young man across the table.
Quickly, I pick up my iPhone and swipe my finger across the screen, removing the message. I don’t want anyone to see it and ask questions I don’t want to answer. Looking around the room I shift in my chair and wonder when this talk fest will end. The meeting has been going for over an hour now, and I’m not sure that anything has actually been said, just lots of weasel words from men more interested in their own status than doing the right thing by their customers and their employees.
Across the table Ryan leans back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest and smirks at me. He’s in my favourite suit today, a dark charcoal pinstripe with a pale blue shirt. With no tie, his shirt is open at the neck, emphasising the warm brown skin at the base of his throat. His shirtsleeves peek out of the suit sleeves, cufflinks that I bought him holding his cuffs closed neatly around his wrists. He’s every inch the young professional, clean shaven with light blue eyes and dark tousled hair and I want him. Now.
The meeting breaks up – finally – and I stand, gathering my papers and sliding them into my leather folio. Looking up from under my eyelashes I see Ryan moving around the room, in his element. Catching his eye I incline my head and he nods. I know that he’ll follow me down to the basement.
I walk quickly back to my desk, Louboutin stilettos clicking on the tiled floor. I drop my folio on my desk and idly wonder what lingerie I chose this morning, an illicit rendezvous with my direct report not then being on the cards. Thankfully, I like pretty things and recall I had chosen a matching set, black lace and satin, boy shorts and a bra. Ryan liked pretty things too, especially when he was taking them off me.
Turning around, I head back towards the lift, thankful that most of my team are, for one reason or another, away from their desks. Nervously, I shift my Blackberry from hand to hand as I wait for the lift to arrive, then while it takes what feels like an inordinate amount of time to descend the three floors down to the basement. When the doors finally open and I step out, Ryan is already there, waiting for me.
“What took you so long?” he asks, moving into my personal space. “You knew I was waiting.”
My mouth opens to explain and he immediately covers it with his own, his tongue tangling with mine. I don’t know what he wants with me. I’m a very curvy woman of nearly forty who has been mostly consumed with her career and he’s married to a pretty young thing, more conventionally attractive than me and successful in her own right. But right now, with his tongue down my throat, I don’t even care why he wants me. I just want.
Pushing against me, Ryan walks me backwards until I am pressed against the wall between the two lifts. If anyone comes down here we certainly won’t be hidden but, right now, discovery is the least of my concerns. All of my focus is on the large warm hands I can feel untying my belt and working open the buttons down the front of my shirt dress. Until Ryan brings his mouth to my ear.
“You wore those shoes just to torment me,” he says, his torment pressing firmly against my hip. “You know what they do to me. I couldn’t concentrate in that damn meeting, all I could think about was bending you over and …”
“So what are you waiting for,” I say, quickly tucking my blackberry in a pocket and grabbing at handfuls of his business shirt, pulling it from his pants.
“I decided I wanted something else first.” Freeing the last button, and pushing the sides of my dress apart, Ryan pushes his hand down the front of my black lace boy shorts and slips his middle finger inside. I gasp, and I feel I should blush. I’m so wet his finger slides in easily and there’s no hiding the fact that I want him. Ryan strokes his finger in and out, allowing the heel of his hand to press down on my clit and within seconds I’m on the edge. And he stops, withdrawing his hand and rubbing his wet finger across my lips.
“I want to taste you.”
“Please,” I breathe, and lick my lips, tasting myself.
Ryan kneels in front of me, still fully clothed, and peels my underwear down my legs. He taps the inside of my ankle and I lift my feet, one at a time, stepping out of the pile of fragile fabric. Ryan tucks the panties in his pocket and runs his hands up the outside of my legs. I step my feet further apart and he brings his thumbs together over my mound, easing the flesh apart. Looking up at me with a quick grin, Ryan bends forward to lick me and I gasp. He’s so good at this.
As I stand there, my dress hanging open and my bottom half bare, my direct report on his knees in front of me with his face buried between my legs, there’s no denying that the likelihood of being caught makes this much more exciting. I don’t know what it is that makes me want to take the risk, it’s not like this relationship is going anywhere. Ryan has only been married for less than a year and he’s already made it clear that he wasn’t going to leave his wife. But I don’t think I want him to. I enjoy him, and I enjoy fucking him, but I’m not sure we’d work. We’re too alike.
My hips start to rock in sync with the strokes of his tongue and I bite down on the inside of my cheek, desperate to stifle my cries. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. I’m so close, my fingers twisting and pulling his hair, holding him in place as he works his tongue inside me.
“Christ, Ryan, don’t stop,” I plead.
His response is muffled against my hot wet flesh and, with his bite on my clit, I come hard, thrusting against his face. He slows his strokes and eases away, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at me with the cocky wet grin of a twenty-something who knows his way around a pussy.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” Ryan says, lifting himself off the floor. He’s nothing if not direct.
He takes my hand and tugs, leading me away from the wall and further into the basement. I’m still wearing my shoes and the click of the stiletto heels echo on the cement floor. Ryan stops short at an old wooden desk someone has left in the corridor and pulls me forward.
“Here,” he says, turning my back to him and pushing my hips into the sharp edge of the desk. My dress is in his way and he gathers it up, hooking it over my arm. “Lean forward and stick your ass out for me.”
I do as he says, leaning forward on the dusty desk and bracing myself on my forearms. I step my feet backwards and apart, sticking my ass out and shaking it a little with a cheeky glance over my shoulder.
“Fuck,” Ryan says under his breath before slapping my ass. Hard. He’s undone his pants and pushed them down over his hips so they hang from the top of his thighs. His cock is free and upright, hard against his stomach. Having dealt with his clothing he slips his fingers between my legs to explore. “You’re so wet,” he says, his fingers plunging inside me and rubbing on just the right spot to make me whimper. “But I don’t want you here …”
Ryan pulls his wet fingers out of me and rubs at my asshole, working the tip of his middle finger inside me. “I want you here.” He waits a beat, his finger pulsing gently in my ass. “Yes?”
I nod, pushing my ass back on his finger and Ryan slaps my ass cheek again. “Answer me properly.”
“Yes,” I agree, my head still nodding. Right now I’d probably give him anything he wanted. I feel cold gel and his finger begins to move faster, working the lubricant inside me. He adds a second finger and I wonder, given his level of preparation, how long he’d been planning this. Then I wonder whether his wife ever lets him fuck her ass.
Ryan pulls his fingers free and I focus on the here and now. I take a deep breath, feeling his cock probing at my anus. It’s not the first time we’ve done this and I know he’ll take it slow. He might be a cocky asshole sometimes, but he’s never deliberately hurt me and he’s really good at this.
With his left hand planted firmly in the middle of my back, I feel Ryan ease his cock forward, the swollen head forcing me open. I breathe deeply, trying to relax and reach beneath myself to rub my clit.
“You’re so tight,” Ryan murmurs, withdrawing and easing forward again, gently moving deeper inside me. “Rub yourself baby. You’re so good to me.”
I hum my agreement, slowly rocking backwards and forwards. It burns but I like the sting.
It takes a few minutes but, eventually Ryan has his cock all the way in. He stops and groans.
He’s still inside me, and I can feel his cock pulse. It makes me crazy and I start to beg. “More. Move. Please.”
He flexes his hips, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in, over and over. The burn gives way to a amazing tingle and I know I won’t take long to come. Given we’re fucking in the workplace, that’s probably a good thing. Ryan’s left hand still pushes in the middle of my back, holding me down and the fingers of his other hand dig into my hip.
“Get there,” he says, through gritted teeth.
“I’m there,” I reply, everything clenching as I fall into the abyss. He follows me almost immediately.
“Fuck,” he sighs, his hips still twitching against mine. “Yeah.”
Everything seems to just stop for a minute.
I drop my head to my arms, enjoying the final tremors of my orgasm with Ryan’s cock still firm inside me. I arch my back beneath him, looking back over my shoulder. He reaches forward and fleetingly runs his fingers over my cheek before he grabs hold of my hips and eases his softening cock out of me. I still wince.
“I’ve got a meeting,” Ryan says, removing the condom and wrapping it in a tissue before tucking it in his pocket. He takes another few tissues from his stash and wipes gently between my legs, cleaning up my mess. When he is finished, I push myself up from the desk and turn around on shaky legs to face him. Ryan grins and pulls my panties from his pocket, waving them in the air. Crouching down, he holds them as I step into them and then he eases them up and over my ass. As he stands, he quickly works the buttons on my dress, doing them up as easily as he’d undone them earlier.
“I really do have to go,” Ryan says, cupping my cheek in his palm as I tie the belt at my waist. “I’ve got to meet with the retail guys in 10 minutes.”
I nod. “And I think I’m late for the weekly review.”
“You go first then,” he says, leading me back down the corridor to the lift and pressing the call button. “I’ll get the next one.”
The lift arrives and I step forward, only for Ryan to catch my hand and pull me back, taking my lips in a passionate kiss before pushing me away and into the car.
“Later,” he grins.
Just as the doors close I can hear the ding of the other lift, signalling its arrival in the basement. My heart jumps, realising just how close we may have been to discovery.
And then I wonder how we might manage a quickie in the boardroom.
© Kristine Charles