The rhythmic clack of Claire’s keyboard filled her office, each keystroke deliberate but unfocused. The document on her screen blurred at the edges as she shifted in her chair, pressing her thighs together in a desperate attempt to alleviate the simmering heat between them. It wasn’t working. All day, the dull throb of arousal had pulsed low in her belly, insistent and maddening. The crisp air-conditioning did little to cool her overheated skin, and the fitted confines of her business suit felt stifling rather than professional. A sharp knock at the door made her jolt upright.

“Come in,” she called, smoothing a hand down her navy blue pencil skirt.

The door swung open, and Nathan Caldwell stepped inside. His presence was immediate. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, dark eyes scanning the room with that signature air of effortless authority. The scent of his cologne was woodsy, laced with something dark and spicy that curled into the air, making Claire’s pulse stutter. Nathan wasn’t just her boss; he was the boss. A man whose reputation for precision and control extended far beyond boardrooms and business deals. The kind of man whose presence commanded attention, whose voice could drop a room into silence with a single word. Right now, that voice was directed at her.

"Where’s the report?" His tone was cool, expectant. Claire swallowed, forcing herself to hold his gaze. Don’t squirm. Don’t fidget. Don’t give anything away.

"It’s almost done," she admitted, her fingers tightening around the edge of her desk. Nathan arched a brow. The flicker of disappointment in his expression sent a thrill through her. Not fear, not concern, but something far more dangerous.

"Almost?" he echoed. He stepped farther inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The office suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. Claire’s breath caught as he approached, each measured step soft against the carpet, each shift of his suit silent but imposing. He came to a stop beside her desk, close enough that the heat radiating from him brushed her bare arms beneath her blouse. Close enough that his cologne wrapped around her, thick and heady.

“Something distracting you?” His voice was lower now, edged with quiet curiosity. Claire hesitated. A sharp pulse of need shot through her at the question, at the way his eyes—so dark, so sharp—searched her face. There was no use pretending.

She exhaled, licking her lips before murmuring, "I’ve been turned on all day." Claire’s confession hung in the air between them, heavy, charged, impossible to take back. Nathan didn’t move. Not at first. He simply studied her, his sharp gaze unreadable, the silence stretching until every nerve in her body felt stretched taut. Then a slow exhale, a barely-there tilt of his head.

"Is that so?" His voice had changed—lower, rougher, the quiet rasp of it sending a shiver down her spine. Claire’s fingers curled against the smooth surface of her desk. She should be mortified. She should look away, brush it off, and laugh. Anything but sit here trembling under the weight of his attention. But she didn’t. Nathan took a single step closer, and suddenly he was right behind her, the heat of his body licking at her back.

"Then let me help you with that," he murmured. Her breath hitched. God, yes. She barely had time to nod before his hands settled at her waist. Large, warm, and firm through the silky fabric of her blouse. His grip was decisive as if he’d already made up his mind the moment she spoke. Claire’s stomach fluttered as he guided her forward, pressing her gently against the desk. The polished wood was cool against her palms, a sharp contrast to the heat blooming under her skin. Behind her, Nathan moved with deliberate slowness. The quiet click of his belt unfastening sent another pulse of arousal straight to her core. The rasp of his zipper lowering followed, the sound deafening in the small office. Claire swallowed hard, her heartbeat hammering in her throat.

His hands smoothed up her sides, trailing heat through the thin material of her blouse before settling at her hips again. A moment passed. Just long enough for anticipation to coil tight in her belly. Then his fingers dipped lower, gathering the hem of her skirt. The fabric slid upward, inch by inch, cool air kissing the newly exposed skin of her thighs. She sucked in a breath, every inch of her body aware of him, the way his fingers skimmed her skin as he bunched the material around her waist. Then, a pause. Nathan exhaled, his breath warm against the back of her neck.

"These are in the way," he murmured.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of her panties, just a teasing brush at first, the tips barely grazing her skin. Then he dragged them aside, the slow, deliberate friction sending a shudder through her. And then, finally, his fingers found her entrance. A choked gasp escaped Claire’s lips as Nathan’s fingers slid against her, his touch unhurried, exploring.

“Soaked,” he murmured, his voice just behind her ear, dark amusement threading through his words. “You weren’t exaggerating.”

Claire’s nails pressed against the polished wood of her desk. She wanted to answer, to say something clever, but all that came out was a shaky exhale. Nathan shifted closer, the fabric of his slacks brushing the backs of her thighs. His free hand smoothed up her back, tracing the curve of her spine through her blouse before resting at her waist. His touch was possessive but restrained as if savoring the moment before the inevitable.

The first press of him against her entrance. A sharp jolt of pleasure shot through Claire as his tip nudged against her, teasing, testing. The heat of him, the sheer hardness, made her breath stutter. She bit her lip, a small sound catching in her throat.

Nathan stilled his grip on her hip tightening. “Quiet, Claire,” he warned, voice edged with amusement. “Unless you want the whole office to know what we’re doing.”

A fresh wave of arousal pulsed through her at the thought. Then, without further warning, he pushed inside. Claire’s lips parted in a silent cry as he filled her in one slow, steady thrust. The stretch, the heat, the way he claimed every inch of her inch by inch. It was overwhelming, intoxicating. Nathan groaned, low and deep, his fingers digging into her hips as he bottomed out.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The office was thick with heat, the only sounds were their ragged breathing, the faint hum of a printer in the distance, and the distant murmur of voices beyond the closed door. Then he withdrew, almost all the way, before thrusting back in.

Claire’s fingers curled against the desk. The impact sent a shockwave of pleasure up her spine, her body molding around him as if she’d been waiting for this all day. Nathan set a slow, deliberate pace, his movements controlled but deep, each thrust measured to draw out her pleasure. The quiet, slick sound of their bodies meeting filled the space between them, each movement sending another pulse of heat spiraling through her.

His hands wandered under her blouse, slipping beneath the silky material to find her breasts. Warm palms, rough fingertips, teasing circles over sensitive skin. Her toes curled in from the pleasure of his presence inside her. Claire arched into his touch, a muffled whimper escaping her throat. Her own hand drifted downward, fingers seeking the swollen ache of her clit. The first brush of contact sent a fresh wave of tension rippling through her.

Nathan noticed. He let out a soft, knowing sound. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice heavy with approval. “Touch yourself.”

She did, her fingers moving in tight, desperate circles, amplifying the pleasure with every roll of her hips against him. His thrusts quickened, his control fraying, his grip tightening against her skin. Claire could feel it. The mounting pressure, the telltale coil tightening inside her, ready to snap. Nathan leaned over her, his breath hot against her cheek. Without thinking, she turned her head. Searching, needing, until his mouth found hers.

The kiss was hungry, all heat and desperation, muffling the quiet sounds of pleasure as their bodies moved together. His rhythm stuttered, his grip turning almost bruising against her skin as he buried himself deep. Claire shattered first. The orgasm crashed over her in waves, her muscles clenching around him, her body arching in surrender. She broke the kiss, gasping against his lips as pleasure rippled through her, her fingers still working against herself, drawing it out, prolonging the sensation.

Nathan followed a moment later. A low, rough groan rumbled from his chest as he thrust one final time, burying himself deep, his release spilling inside her. Filling her up with heat and pressure. For a moment, they simply breathed, tangled in the aftershocks, their bodies still pressed together, heat still radiating between them. Claire sagged against the desk, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out the faint office noises beyond her closed door.

Behind her, Nathan was still for a moment, his hands resting heavy and warm on her hips. Then, with a slow, deliberate exhale, he withdrew. The sudden emptiness sent a small aftershock of sensation through her, making her shiver. She heard the rustle of fabric as he adjusted his trousers, the soft metallic click of his belt being fastened. Claire swallowed, her fingers still curled against the polished wood of her desk. Her legs felt unsteady, her body thrumming with the remnants of pleasure. There was no rush, no awkwardness. Just muted satisfaction hanging between them like an unspoken agreement. Nathan took a single step back, and she knew without even looking that he was watching her. A deep warmth curled low in her stomach at the thought.

She reached for a tissue from the box on her desk, making quick work of cleaning herself up before tugging her blouse back into place. Slowly, carefully, Claire straightened. Her skirt fell back into place over her thighs as she smoothed the fabric with steady hands. She turned just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. Nathan looked... collected. Controlled. As if nothing had happened. His dark eyes, however, told a different story. Heavy-lidded, still burning with the remnants of their shared pleasure. Nathan’s gaze flickered to the computer screen behind her.

“The report?” he asked, his tone once again calm, businesslike.

Claire’s lips twitched. She turned, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. A single click. The printer hummed to life. She straightened her spine, smoothing her hair as she reached for the freshly printed pages, falling seamlessly back into professionalism. Claire exhaled slowly, steadying herself as the printer spat out the final pages of the report. The air in the office still felt thick with heat, the scent of sex and satisfaction lingering faintly beneath the usual crisp notes of printer ink and coffee. She picked up the freshly printed report, stacking the pages neatly before smoothing her skirt one final time. Her hands were steady now, her breathing even. Composed. Professional.

Nathan, for his part, was already back in his usual state of calm authority. He glanced at her once more before turning toward the door, pulling it open with the same effortless confidence that he carried in every aspect of his life. As if he hadn’t just had her bent over her desk moments ago. Claire followed him into the hallway, walking with the same measured grace she always did, the only betrayal of their recent activities being the lingering warmth between her thighs and the slight ache of satisfaction in her muscles.

She didn’t need to look up to feel the eyes on her. Maya, her best friend from across the hall, was leaning in her own doorway, arms crossed, lips curved into a knowing smirk. Claire didn’t acknowledge her. She refused to acknowledge her, but the heat creeping up the back of her neck was enough of a giveaway. Maya’s smirk deepened. Claire held her head high, pushing forward toward Nathan’s office. When she stepped inside, she moved with practiced efficiency, setting the report down on his desk.

Only then did her eyes flick toward the framed photo sitting in the corner of his desk. One she’d seen a thousand times but had never really thought about until now. A wedding photo. Their wedding photo. She and Nathan stood in the image, side by side, captured in a moment of timeless elegance and quiet happiness. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his grip just as possessive as it had been moments ago in her office. It was a reminder, a quiet, undeniable truth.

This wasn’t just an illicit office affair. This was them. Claire let a small, private smile touch her lips before turning toward the door. Nathan was already watching her, his gaze unreadable. She met his eyes for a lingering second before stepping out, leaving the report behind. Just another task completed, another moment seamlessly blended into the workday. Neither of them said a word about what had just happened. But they both knew. And so did Maya. Maybe she should invite Maya over for a three-way. If Nathan wanted that. Could be fun.

 

My beautiful coworker said, I like you, then she immediately said I mean I like to work with you. That's 20 years ago, I said I like to work with you too. Nothing happened after that.

 

Great story. I enjoyed it❤️

 

Well written and drew me in effortlessly. The twist at the end was perfect.