Office After Hours

The office was quiet at 8 PM, the fluorescent lights dimmed to their nighttime setting. Brandon had thought he was the last one in the building until his phone buzzed with a message from the CFO's office.

Computer issue. Please come when you have a moment. - V. Okonkwo

Victoria Okonkwo. Even her name made him nervous. The woman was a legend at the company—brilliant, ruthless, and built like a goddess of plenty. At forty-six, she'd clawed her way to the C-suite in an industry that didn't make it easy for women who looked like her.

Brandon gathered his tools and headed for the executive floor.

Her office was palatial compared to his IT closet—all mahogany and leather, with a view of the city that probably cost more than his annual salary. Victoria sat behind her desk, her generous figure poured into a crimson dress that should have been illegal.

"Mr. Hughes." She didn't look up from her laptop. "Thank you for coming."

"Brandon's fine." He approached the desk. "What seems to be the problem?"

"It keeps freezing. Right in the middle of important spreadsheets." She finally looked at him, and Brandon felt like prey under those dark, assessing eyes. "I was told you're the best."

"I'll take a look."

He moved behind her desk, acutely aware of her proximity. She didn't move from her chair, forcing him to lean over her to access the keyboard. Her perfume enveloped him—something rich and spicy that went straight to his head.

"May I?" He gestured toward the laptop.

"By all means."

The problem was simple—too many programs running, not enough RAM. It took him five minutes to clean up the processes and optimize her settings. But when he tried to straighten up, her hand caught his wrist.

"That's not actually why I called you here."

Brandon's heart hammered. "No?"

"I've been watching you." Victoria's thumb traced circles on his inner wrist. "The way you move through this office. The way you don't stare, even though we both know you want to."

"Ms. Okonkwo—"

"Victoria." She stood, and he realized she was nearly his height in her heels. This close, he could see the rise and fall of her chest, the fullness of her body straining against crimson fabric. "I'm not in the habit of mixing business with pleasure, Brandon. But some pleasures are worth the risk."

"This is—we shouldn't—"

"Tell me to stop." Her hand slid up his arm to his shoulder. "Tell me you haven't thought about it, and I'll pretend this conversation never happened."

He couldn't. Because he had thought about it—every time she walked past his desk, every meeting where she commanded the room, every late night where he wondered what was under those designer suits.

"I thought so." Her smile was triumphant. "Lock the door."

He did. When he turned back, she'd perched on the edge of her desk, legs crossed in a way that hiked her dress up her thick thighs.

"Come here."

Brandon obeyed. He stopped between her knees, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. Up close, she was even more stunning—flawless dark skin, full lips, eyes that promised sin and delivered.

"I'm going to tell you what I want," she said, her fingers working his belt. "And you're going to give it to me. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Her smile sharpened. "Good boy."

She freed him from his pants, her soft hand wrapping around his hardening length. "I want you to make me forget about quarterly reports and budget meetings. I want you to remind me I'm a woman, not just a title."

"I can do that."

"Prove it."

He kissed her hard, all the pent-up tension releasing in a clash of lips and tongue. She moaned into his mouth, her hand stroking him to full hardness while his found the zipper at her back. The dress fell away, revealing a black lace bra and matching panties struggling to contain her curves.

"God," he breathed, taking in the sight of her. "You're incredible."

"Less talking." She lay back on the desk, scattering papers and pens. "More doing."

Brandon stripped her of the last barriers, then shed his own clothes. She was laid out before him like an offering—thick thighs spread, wet and ready. He could see how much she wanted this, could smell her arousal in the air.

He started with his mouth, licking a broad stripe up her center that made her gasp. She tasted better than he'd imagined, and he devoured her with an enthusiasm that had her cursing and gripping his hair.

"Yes—right there—don't stop—"

He didn't stop until she was shaking through her first orgasm, her thighs clamping around his head. Then he stood, positioned himself at her entrance, and looked into her eyes.

"Say please."

Something flickered in her expression—surprise, respect, hunger. "Please."

He drove home in one thrust. Victoria screamed, her nails raking his back as he set a punishing pace. The desk shook beneath them, threatening to collapse under their combined weight and enthusiasm.

"Harder," she demanded. "Make me feel it tomorrow."

He grabbed her hips and gave her everything, pounding into her while she writhed and cursed and urged him on. She came twice more before he felt his own release building.

"Inside," she gasped. "I want to feel you."

He buried himself to the hilt as he came, filling her while she shuddered through another peak. They stayed connected long after, both breathing hard, covered in sweat.

Eventually, Victoria laughed—a warm, satisfied sound.

"You're getting a raise," she said.

"That's definitely inappropriate."

"Probably." She pulled him down for another kiss. "But I'm the CFO. I can make it work."