8
SUTTON
The elevator doors opened on the eighteenth floor, and the silence of the empty executive wing wrapped around us like a secret.
I led her down the dim hallway, my hand now fully on the small of her back. No one else was here. The cleaning crew had come and gone hours ago. It was just us.
I pushed open the double doors to the main conference room—the same one where she’d given her presentation last Friday. The long mahogany table gleamed under the low emergency lighting. The projector screen was still pulled down at the far end.
I remembered every second of watching her stand up there in that fitted skirt, clicking through slides, her voice steady and confident while I leaned against that wall and fought the filthiest thoughts of my life. I remembered sitting down in this exact chair when she finished, asking her the one question I’d come in to ask, and watching her hold her ground across the table from me while I tried not to think about what her mouth would feel like wrapped around my cock.
“After you,” I said, closing the doors behind us with a soft click. “We have a meeting scheduled, Ms. Henning.”
She turned to look at me, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips. I walked past her and took the same seat I’d occupied during her pitch, leaning back, legs spread. I gestured to the open space in front of me.
“Have a seat, or rather…come here. Let’s review what I was thinking about during your slideshow.”
She walked over slowly, stopping right in front of me. I looked up at her, my voice low and deliberate.
“While you were talking about user engagement metrics, I was imagining bending you over this table, flipping that skirt up, and fucking you from behind until you couldn’t remember your own name.”
Her lids got heavier with each word I spoke. The sight only encouraged me to continue.
“Every time you pointed at the screen, I pictured my hands on those hips, gripping hard while I buried myself inside you,” I said. “When you sat down, I wanted to slide my fingers under the table, between your thighs, and feel how wet you were getting just from presenting. I wanted to make you come with my cock while you answered my questions about your deck.”
Her breathing had changed. She stepped closer, right between my knees.
“Tell me more,” she whispered.
So I did. In graphic, unrelenting detail. How I wanted to suck on her tits while she rode me in this chair. How I’d pictured her on her knees under the table, mouth full of me while I pretended to listen. How I’d nearly come in my slacks just watching her ass when she turned to the screen.
She listened, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with arousal. When I finished, she looked straight at me.
“I’ve never done any of that,” she said softly. “Any of it. I’m…I’m a virgin.”
The words hit me like cold water. A virgin. Sweet, brilliant, twenty-three-year-old Joss Henning had never been touched. For half a second, guilt slammed into me. I should take her somewhere better—candles, soft sheets, romance. Anywhere but the conference room where she gave her presentation.
But then she reached down, grabbed the hem of her tank top, and pulled it off in one smooth motion. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts spilled free—full, soft, perfect, nipples already tight. I couldn’t look away. My mouth went dry.
“Joss…” I breathed.
She kicked off her sandals, then unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her legs, stepping out. She stood there in nothing but a pair of simple black panties.
Her voice was shy but determined as she said, “Show me what you want to do to me now.”
I reached out and hooked my fingers into the waistband of her underwear, pulling her closer until she stood between my spread thighs. Slowly, I dragged the fabric down her legs. She stepped out of them obediently. Her pussy was smooth, glistening already. I could tell how turned on she was.
I spread her legs with my hands and slid one thick finger along her slit before pushing it inside her. Christ, she was tight. And soaked.
“You’re so fucking wet,” I groaned, pumping my finger slowly. I pulled it out and brought it to my mouth, licking her taste off with a low hum of pleasure. Her eyes widened.
Then I grabbed her hips, pulled her forward, and buried my face between her thighs. I licked her like a starving man—long, slow strokes over her clit, then sucking it into my mouth. I slid my tongue inside her, fucking her with it while my thumb circled her swollen nub. Her hands fisted in my hair, hips rockingagainst my face. When she came, it was sudden and beautiful—her thighs shaking, a broken cry tearing from her throat as she flooded my tongue.
I stood and undid my belt, shoving my pants and boxer briefs down my thighs and freeing my aching cock. It stood thick and heavy, veins pulsing. I wrapped my hand around it and stroked a few times, watching her reaction.
Joss licked her lips, then dropped to her knees. She took me in her mouth—awkward, eager, perfect. Her tongue swirled around the head as she tried to take more. I groaned loudly, threading my fingers through her hair.
“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”
