Filthy Flirt: An Office Romance

by Chloe Lane

  I’ve never used a vibrator before, and I’m so desperate for release that when Mr. Kane teases it gently over my slit, I throw both hands over my mouth. It does nothing to stifle my gasping moan.

  “Is this what you were going to do in your apartment, kitten?”

  His voice feels like another layer of vibration, another layer of pleasure, something silken and rough at the same time. “Yes, Mr. Kane…yes.”

  He guides it up and down, up and down, moving that torturous pleasure over every single one of my folds. “But that’s not all you were going to do.”

  “I was going to fuck myself with it, Mr. Kane.” I’m forcing the words out, too loud, my voice hitching and breaking. “I was going to fuck myself with it and I was going to imagine that it was yours…”

  I am stripped bare by the pleasure rocketing through me. Never in a million years would I have said something like this to one of my college boyfriends. Never in a million years would I have spoken these words aloud to another human being. But with Mr. Kane holding the dildo against my opening now, the thickness of it just barely starting to press into me, I have no more defenses.

  “And now look at you,” he says into my ear, increasing the pressure on the dildo so that the thick head just barely presses inside. My entire body is trembling in time with the vibrator, my toes pressed to the floor. “You’re spread open for me on my sofa, and I’m going to fuck you with it.”

  “You’re not—” I have to swallow hard to get myself together enough to continue speaking. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

  “Oh, Emma,” he says, the words dripping slowly from his mouth as the dildo presses another inch inside of me, all of my walls stretching to accommodate it—God, it’s bigger than it looked in the store, but I want it so badly, I need it so badly, I never would have taken myself to be the kind of girl who— “I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you in every one of your sweet little holes, make you come so many times that you can’t tell where one orgasm—” Another inch… “—ends and the next one begins. I’m going to bend you over and make you beg me for more. Don’t worry, kitten.” He drags his mouth down the side of my neck, leaving a burning trail of heat.

  Oh, God, this is everything I imagined and more…everything I imagined except Maxwell Kane actually fucking me, and every word out of his mouth is a promise that it’s going to happen. The thought makes me moan out loud. We’re playing a delicious game, and he’s the prize.

  I want to play this game forever.

  In the heat of the moment, the thought surprises me. That first day I saw him on TV, I thought Maxwell Kane was the kind of man to enjoy from afar, the kind of man you can picture when you’re home alone, but now that he’s doing this to me, now that he’s reducing me to a bundle of pleasure-soaked nerves, I can’t imagine ever giving it up.

  “I just think we should take it slow.” He says this just as he presses another length of the dildo into me, and it’s so much that I almost break then. “Damn, Emma. You’ve almost taken all of this…do you want more?”

  “Yes!” I cry, my voice tearing into the relative quiet of the room, my hands scrambling for his shoulders. “Yes, please, give it to me, give it to me—”

  “It’s so pretty when you beg,” he says, and then it’s all the way in, stretching the very limits of my pussy, and every breath is a gasp, every exhale is a moan of pure pleasure.

  Maxwell starts fucking me with the dildo, powerful, even strokes, harder than I would have done it, and in my gut there’s a building core of heat that grows with each stroke until I can’t contain it anymore, throwing my head back against the sofa. The clip holding my hair in place comes undone and my hair falls against my shoulders. Maxwell doesn’t miss a beat, fucking me harder even as he reaches up and delicately presses a few stray locks back from my face.

  “You don’t have to wait,” he says, and I can’t get the words to mean anything.

  “What—what do you—?”

  “You don’t have to wait to come…this time.”

  That’s all it takes, and I explode around the dildo, my hips jerking spasmodically up from the surface of the sofa, a fresh wave of juices soaking the thick cock, dripping onto the leather beneath me, the pleasure so pure and intense that it hurts, but it hurts so good, the kind of pain that I never want to end for as long as I live.

  I ride the wave for what seems like a long time, but at last I’m spent, my bare ass settling back into the sofa, taking in big gulps of air to steady myself. Maxwell slips the dildo out of me and kisses me gently on the lips. I only open my eyes when I feel movement in the air, and catch the last of his back retreating toward the bathroom.

  A new warmth zings through me.

  I know exactly what I need to do now.

  14

  Maxwell

  I see her the moment I step back into the living room, my heart leaping into my throat, my cock twitching in my pants, still rock-hard from making her come with that thick dildo—the dildo that she wanted as a stand-in for me. Well, I’ve shown her what the dildo can do. It’s too soon to end the anticipation and fuck her. She clearly has other things in mind.

  Emma isn’t sitting on the sofa anymore.

  She’s kneeling in front of the coffee table, eyes on the carpet, her hands clasped meekly in front of her. I heard her hair clip dislodge just before she came, and her blonde hair is spilling over her shoulders, brushing the straps of the silk shell. Her breasts rise and fall beneath the fabric. She’s straightened her skirt, pulling it back down into place, but her panties—black lace—are still abandoned on the floor behind her.

  I step over other, threading my fingers into her hair, and tilt her head back until she’s looking up at me with her eyes, the color of the midday sky, and my breath hitches. I’ve wanted to see her like this for all of a week. It feels like an eternity.

  “Is this something you want, Mr. Kane?” Her voice is soft, submissive, nothing like the calmly confident tone she uses when we’re in the office.

  “You have no idea how much I want it,” I growl, my voice huskier than I thought it would be. “Except for one thing.”

  A little frown crosses her face. “What?”

  “I didn’t tell you to pull down your skirt.”

  Her creamy cheeks flush pink. “I’m—I’m sorry, Mr. Kane.”

  “Fix it. Now.” She’s trembling a little, but the way she bites her lip tells me that being dominated, being commanded, is turning her on. It doesn’t matter that she just came.

  She reaches down and pulls her skirt up to her hips, and I step to the side, admiring the firm curve of her ass. Damn, it’s the perfect ass for bending over and giving a little punishment, but not now. Hold back, Maxwell.

  Then I move back in front of her and unzip my pants, my cock springing out into my fist.

  Emma’s eyes go wide when she sees the size of it for the first time, and she tries to stifle her gasp with her hand but fails. If she thought the dildo was massive, she’s finding out just how much she has to look forward to from the pleasure of a real man.

  “It’s huge,” she whispers, threading her fingers together again, this time with a nervous expression on her face.

  “Did you change your mind about what you intended to do with it, kitten?” I keep my voice neutral as I ask the question. If she truly wants to walk out of here, I’m not going to stop her, but—

  “No.” Emma’s voice is soft, but firm. She clears her throat. “No, Mr. Kane, I didn’t change my mind.” Then, without waiting for another command, she reaches forward and gently moves my hand away, taking my length in both of hers. Her hands are small, making it look even bigger, but there’s a determined glint in her eyes.

  That’s the last thing I notice before the heat of her mouth encases the heat of my cock, the swirling, delicate touch of her tongue gliding down my shaft, the way she’s stroking me with both hands, then one, her fingers moving tantalizingly close to my balls.

  My cock pulses in her
mouth, but no, this cannot end so quickly. I want hours of this, days of this, and then she takes in more of me between her lips. I can’t stop myself from working both hands into her hair, pulling her forward, pushing more of myself into her hot mouth.

  The head of my cock brushes against the back of her throat, but Emma doesn’t push away. She wraps her hands around the backs of my legs and holds on tight, looking up at me with those blue eyes, just barely beginning to water.

  “Take it all, kitten.” The command comes through gritted teeth, and I feel her arch her back a little bit, responding to my voice like this is what she was born to do.

  I almost don’t believe it’s possible, but she does it. Emma opens wide and lets me press the full length of my cock into her throat, her tongue dancing against the underside, and I lose all control.

  I can’t stop myself.

  I don’t want to stop myself, and all the while, there’s the gentle pressure of Emma’s hands urging me on. She’s moaning, the sound an unbelievable vibration against my shaft, and I can’t stay still any longer. I fuck her mouth with almost total abandon, my hands in her silky hair, pulling her close, and she gives herself over to me so completely, so fully—

  I never want her to leave.

  I don’t have that thought about women. I never do. They’re a distraction, something to do on the weekends when I want to go out for a nice meal with some witty company. But Emma? Emma is everything I’ve ever needed. Emma is whip-smart and ambitious at the office.

  Behind closed doors, she’s innocent in a way that makes her submission a thousand times hotter, a million times hotter. I want her, I need her, all of her, to be mine. She’s kneeling in front of me and an image flashes into my mind of her creamy skin, all of it exposed to me, my tongue flicking against her nipples, and it sends me over the edge.

  The orgasm is powerful and fierce, and Emma holds on tight, taking every last drop until there’s nothing left, until I slip my cock from her mouth and offer my hand to help her stand, and then tug her skirt down with my own two hands. Then I put those hands on either side of her face and kiss her, hard and deep, a saltiness lingering on her lips, right up until my cell phone starts to ring.

  15

  Emma

  The loud tone startles me, and Mr. Kane—Maxwell—breaks the kiss with an irritated sigh, stepping back to dig it out of his pocket. He glances at the screen, then looks up at me with a darkness in his blue eyes. “I have to take this.”

  “That’s okay,” I whisper. All of my skin is covered in goosebumps. I’m filled with a kind of reckless, nervous energy, and though I badly want to stay in Maxwell’s apartment for the rest of the evening—for the rest of my life—I need a breath of fresh air after this incredible release.

  As soon as he answers, I know it’s a client, because the tone of his voice changes completely.

  That’s my cue.

  When he turns his back toward the hallway, listening intently, I tiptoe around the side of the couch, put my suit jacket back on. But as I reach for my panties on the floor, there’s a sharp snap.

  He’s grinning at me, phone pressed to his ear, arms crossed over his chest.

  Leave them. He mouths the words, and I draw my hand back, a blush rising to my cheeks.

  I’m already wet.

  I love to obey him—I love this game that we’ve thrown ourselves into, all in the space of one afternoon. I can feel my juices starting to pool between my legs even as I make my way to the door, pick up my purse, and step into the hallway, closing the door softly behind me.

  Outside, in the noise of the traffic and the evening heat, I take a deep breath and let it all wash over me.

  I just let my boss—that’s what he is, at this point, really, even though eventually someday we might just be coworkers—

  No. We’re never just going to be coworkers.

  It doesn’t matter. He just fucked me with the first sex toy I ever purchased, and I’ve never come so hard in my life.

  I have to force another breath, only at the last moment realizing I’m holding it in, staring back into the lobby of his condo building. The anticipation is so great that he might appear out of the elevators, come chasing after me, that I’d started to hold my breath.

  I shake my head, square my shoulders, and make my way down the sidewalk, all of me warm and loose and satisfied, and yet somehow already wanting more, already poised to turn and run back to that condo and throw myself into his arms.

  It’s going to be a long week at the office…

  * * *

  We dance around each other for four agonizing days. I keep having to remind myself that it’s my second week in the office, and I absolutely cannot be caught having sex—or anything else—with Maxwell Kane in his office. Or mine. Or anywhere on the property. It probably wouldn’t be great if we were spotted outside his condo, either.

  On Friday morning, I scan through the employee handbook that Mrs. Johnson gave me on the first day. There it is, in big, bold letters, in the third paragraph of the employee conduct section: Pierce & Harwood does not tolerate fraternization between partners and junior associates.

  I shove the manual back into my desk drawer. Maxwell isn’t technically a full partner, but he is a partner. And I’m definitely a junior associate. I’ve barely been here two weeks.

  Then another thought dawns: does what we’re doing even count as…dating?

  My heart rockets against my rib cage. Aside from the hour we spent in his condo, we haven’t gone on any dates, but now that I think of it—

  I want to.

  I want to sit across the table from him at some out-of-the-way restaurant and ask him about his childhood, ask him about his plans for the future, ask him to tell me everything about himself, because I’m dying to know.

  Maxwell Kane isn’t just the pretty face I saw on the television. Something else is radiating from him, something buried beneath the surface, and that something tells me that all his public exploits—the drinking, being caught in front of a “massage parlor” that’s probably anything but, the way he goes to parties with all kinds of well-known people in the city who he shouldn’t go anywhere near—it’s all a cover. It’s the veneer. The real Maxwell Kane isn't the one I met in his apartment, the dominant, sexy, commanding one, the one who knows what he wants.

  And what he wants is me.

  “Emma.”

  His low voice startles me. “Yes, Mr. K—Maxwell? What can I do for you?”

  “We’re due in court in twenty minutes. Are you ready?”

  I can’t help myself. I know I shouldn’t, but my body has been buzzing for him, aching for him, desperate for him all week. And so, in a move that’s not quite professional, I hesitate for a single moment before I answer. “Yes—”

  We haven’t talked on the phone, haven’t said anything untoward all week, though every conversation we have—even ones like this—carries an electric current so strong I’m surprised we haven’t shorted out the building’s service.

  He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “What is it that you need? Is it something I can…help with?”

  I catch the moment of hesitation in his voice, too, and it’s like my entire body is blushing.

  I bite my lip. This isn’t something I want to shout across even the tiny space of my office, because you never know when somebody’s listening in. “Maxwell, I—”

  He strides over to my desk, puts both hands on it, and leans toward me. Half of me relaxes as he gets closer, but the other half gets even more wound up, the wetness peaking between my legs. “Tell me, Emma.”

  This isn’t the friendly, collegial tone we normally use together. This is his Mr. Kane voice, and my nipples pebble beneath my bra.

  I suck in a breath and open my mouth.

  16

  Maxwell

  Her voice is soft, the slightest shudder in it, and the smoothness of her tone draws me in, stretches me to the very breaking point. It’s been a long, torturous week
of keeping my hands off her. Monday night at my condo was fucking hot. It was a damn firestorm. But I’ve been determined not to push her, not to make her think that every day at the office is going to be an endless game of sex and domination.

  Not that I think she’d mind.

  I just can’t force her into that.

  Emma is going to willingly submit to me—she already has, on Monday. But I’m a firm believer that one yes doesn’t mean a forever’s’ worth of consent. That petite thing is going to have to come to me if she wants more.

  Judging by the look on her face, she wants more, and she wants it right now.

  “This week is hell,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes darting between my face and the door behind me. “I just want—I’ve just wanted to talk to you, all evening, when I get home from work, and I want—” She looks away, like she’s embarrassed. “I know it’s stupid, to feel this way, but I want more—I want more in so many ways—”

  Her voice ends in a little gasp, because I’ve turned my back on her and I’m moving quickly through my office to the door, shutting it, locking it, and then I’m back in hers, testing the lock on hers. It’s firm.

  When I turn back, she’s grasping the edge of her desk with her fingertips.

  “Maxwell?”

  “Stand up.”

  She stands instantly, and I cross behind her, moving her chair out of the way. Then I’m pressing close behind her, wrapping my arms around her, and she melts into me, her head leaning into my shoulder, my lips at her ear. “I’ve been waiting for you all week,” I growl, keeping my voice low. “I didn’t want you to feel any pressure about what happened on Monday. But fuck, Emma, I want more, too. I want all of you. I need all of you.”

  Emma only moans in response.

  “Bend over the desk.”