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Taking the Boss

She was his boss.
“What do you want?” she asked him as he entered.

He smiled that smile that she knew would lead to no answer, as he leaned back to close the office door behind him.

“You can’t do this to me.” Her voice trembled.

She heard the mechanical thunk when he triggered the lock on the door.

“This is my office.” She stated the obvious with as much authority as she could muster.

Her heart beat fiercely in her chest. She also recognized the swelling in the nipples of her breasts, cradled in the sexy, but sensible lace-trimmed brassiere under her severe, fitted white blouse.

“Please.” The word was a true plea. “Don’t do this to me again.”

She knew what the handsome man was going to do to her when she saw him. But it was an invasion of her private refuge. His good looks, firm body under the tailored suit, conservative tie and white shirt made her ache with desire.

He raised one of those fingers, that she knew could make her whimper with desire to his lips in a silencing motion. Before she even felt them press into hers, she knew those lips would sear into her very soul. She felt the flood of moisture develop under her charcoal skirt, soaking into the not-so-conservative bikini panties she’d selected.

“I’ve got a meeting,” she begged. “I can’t.”

He stepped around her desk, gathered her into his arms and put his lips across hers. As his tongue probed along her full, freshly painted lips, she felt the groan escape her throat. When he released her mouth she felt herself falling into the sparkling pools of his glittering eyes.

She whispered. “You can’t keep doing this to me.”

“You want me to do it.” His voice was a quiet, gravelly rumble that sent shivers up her spine. “You need me to do it.”

“No,” she protested, her voice little more than a whisper. “I can’t. I have responsibilities. A meeting.”

He unbuttoned the three tiny buttons on the front of her blouse, gently pulling it away from her breasts. His lips burned as he pressed them into the soft curve between her neck and her shoulder. The contact literally produced shivers that started at the point of his kiss and flashed into her nipples.

She felt the bulge of his erection pressing against her from under his trousers. With a mind of their own, her hands formed an envelope that surrounded and caressed the shaft beneath the fabric.

“Go ahead,” he murmured into her neck. “Take it out.”

Her fingers traced the length of him and felt the rough texture of the zipper. She found the tab and pulled it slowly down, barely realizing that he had, at the same time, released the catch of her bra and freed her imploring breast from its hold. She felt the firm, smooth, searing flesh of his hardness under her fingers and tugged it loose from the prison of his trousers.

“We can’t!” she implored, one more time. “There’s no time. It’s my office. I’m your boss!”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, covering her protesting mouth with his own.

Another moan escaped her throat and she stroked his stiffness with her soft fingers. Her own moan was met with a groan that seemed to emanate from within his chest. He stepped back and looked down to see her delicate fingers wrapped around his cock.

“You see,” he rumbled tenderly. “You do want it.”

A veil of her auburn hair covered her face, as she looked down to see the warm rod in her hand. When she looked up into his eyes, he could see the surrender. He nodded.

She dropped to a knee, her skirt hiking nearly to her hips. She cradled his meat in her hand. As if making initial contact with a lover’s lips, her mouth pressed against his flesh. She planted a row of kisses along the shaft, each more tender, more moist, more loving. She changed her grip from a cradle to a grasp, pushing the rubbery tip between her full, luscious lips. Her tongue probed the underside and lashed at the smooth hardness, her breath sounding like a stiff wind roaring through her nostrils.

The intercom on her desk buzzed, startling them both. The voice came through the speaker. “They’re waiting for you on thirty-two,” it said.

She released him, inhaled and replied. “On my way.”

Giving a last, loving lick and a kiss to the rubbery head of his cock, she struggled to her feet. “I told you,” she said, with a touch of victory in her voice. She began to search for her brassiere.

He held it up, dangling it from two fingers of his right hand. She reached for it and he snatched it from her reach. “I’ll just hold on to this,” he said.

“I can’t go up there without a bra!”

“You can,” he said. It was an order.

“They will see. They will know.”

He shook his head. “They will only know what we already know. They will know that you are brilliant, intelligent, and a smoking hot beauty.”

“Give it back,” she demanded.

He continued to shake his head. “This is mine.”

“One day you’re going to go too far,” she huffed and buttoned up the three buttons on her blouse. She smoothed the fabric and re-tucked it into her skirt. She checked herself in the mirror, re-applied a thin coat of her lipstick, as he re-adjusted himself into his trousers.

He strode to the door, unlocked it, opened it, and walked through with authority.

When she collected her files, she clutched them to her chest to hide the lack of supporting underwear. She walked to her door. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through, closing the door behind her. Her secretary looked quizzically at her.

“Was that…?”

“Yes.”

The secretary nodded and grinned.

“I’ll be back in an hour-and-a-half,” the boss told her.

The gentlemen assembled in the conference room on the thirty-second floor rose when she walked in. She settled in the chair closest to the front of the room and began the meeting. When she scanned the room she saw him midway down the table. Her heart skipped, and she flushed as she felt her nipples distend.

An hour and a half later, she looked at the only other female in the room. “Lydia, if we could have your notes by Friday, we’d appreciate it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lydia replied.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” she said. “I think that wraps it up. Unless there are any unresolved issues, I’ll see you all next week.”

The men and Lydia rose, gathered their materials and filed out. All except for him.

His presence had been unnerving throughout the meeting. Each time she felt her blouse rub across her hardened nipples, she knew he was there, knew that she was braless, and knew that he kept her in a constant state of arousal. Now, alone in the room with her, his presence nearly overwhelmed her.

“We have an unresolved issue,” he said softly, moving to lock both access doors.

“You can’t keep doing this to me,” she said. “I’m your boss.”

He grinned wickedly. “I can,” he said. “I can, and I will.”

He strode rapidly toward her and wrapped her in his arms. He pressed his lips on hers and before she had a chance to react, had stripped her of her blouse, unzipped the charcoal skirt, stripped off her bikini panties and had her backed up against the conference table.

She offered no resistance as he unzipped his own fly, backed away, and simply buried his cock inside her. She groaned in ecstasy, as he sank his full length into her depths. Her black heels dug into is backside, as he plunged himself in and out of her. She leaned into him, delighting in the warmth of his body and the aroma of cinnamon and pipe tobacco that permeated the suit coat.

There was urgency in their joining. Both grunted with the exertion, the only other sound being that of his scrotum-encased balls slapping against her flesh.

She cried out. “Oh, fuck! I’m coming! Fuck me harder!”

He grunted and plowed on, his own release coming moments later as he poured his essence into her. He held her shoulders tightly, pulling her onto him as they delighted in the post-coital twinges and sensations.

“God,” he murmured. “You’re so tight and hot. I love fucking you.”

“And you’re so hard and hot inside me,” she whispered. “I love it when you fuck me.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it under her as he withdrew.

“Why do you always put up such a fight?” he asked.

“Because I am your boss,” she replied. “You just can’t walk into my office and fuck me every time you get a hard on.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You love it, and so do I.”

“We both know it is unprofessional behavior,” she said. “By the way, I think you have something that belongs to me.”

He reached into his jacket pocket. He withdrew the brassier and let it swing between two fingers. “This?”

“Yes, that,” she said. “Give it back.”

He looked at her and then at the swinging strip of cloth. “I don’t think so,” he said.

“I think it will be sexier for you to finish your day without it.”

“I can’t do that,” she protested firmly.

“That sounds like what you said in your office. But you did, you do, and you can.”

“Please,” she said, nearly pleading.

He shook his head stuffing the small garment in his jacket pocket. “You can have it when you get home.”

“This is no way to treat your boss, you know.”

“It is when your boss is the hottest bitch in the town, the love of your life, and the finest wife a man could ever desire.”

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