She sits across the room, her gaze fixed on him as he sinks deeper into the rabbit hole of work. It’s painful to watch such a vibrant man trapped under the weight of endless tasks. He needs a break—desperately. But she hesitates, not wanting to disrupt his focus. For now, she’s lost in daydreams, her mind whispering, If only I could have things my way...

The ache within her becomes unbearable. She can’t resist! She gets up and slips into the bedroom, where she changes into a short black nightdress that clings to her curves. She pairs it with thigh-high stockings, their delicate lace trim brushing against her skin, and sweeps her hair into a high ponytail, the ends swaying as she moves.

Taking a deep breath, she returns to the room where he’s still working, oblivious to the world around him. She kneels beside him, her head resting gently on his lap, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles along his thigh until they brush against the button of his pants. Her heart races as she exhales, silently praying he won’t pull away.

She’s hungry for him but doesn’t want to rush. Her hand moves with purpose, stroking him through the fabric, feeling him stiffen, his arousal growing with each deliberate caress. The heat of him through his pants sends a shiver down her spine.

Enough! she thinks, a silent scream of need. I can’t take it anymore. She unhooks the button and releases him, his hardness springing free.

Her tongue flicks against the tip, teasing at first, savoring his taste. Her lips, slick with anticipation, glide over him, taking him deeper, inch by inch, until he fills her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. She pauses, letting him rest there, her tongue trailing along his length in slow, sensual strokes. A wave of heat crashes between her thighs. She’s drenched, aching, craving the moment he’ll plunge into her, filling her completely.

His hands, which had been frozen on his keyboard, now twitch, one reaching down to tangle in her ponytail. He tugs gently, and she hums in approval, the vibration making him groan. She pulls back slightly, letting her lips drag along him, teasing the sensitive tip before taking him deep again. His breathing grows ragged, and she knows she’s got him—finally pulling him out of that work-induced trance.

But she’s not ready to let him take control. Not yet. She stands, her nightdress riding up slightly, revealing the lace tops of her stockings. She steps closer, straddling his lap, her knees sinking into the chair on either side of him. The heat between her thighs hovers just above him, close enough for him to feel her warmth but not yet touching. “Look at me,” she whispers, her voice low and commanding.

His eyes lift from the laptop, meeting hers, and she sees the hunger there, the way his pupils darken with want. She leans in, her lips brushing his ear. “You’ve been ignoring me,” she murmurs, her tone playful but edged with need. “Time to make up for it.”

She lowers herself just enough to let her wetness graze against his cock, the contact sending a jolt through both of them. His hands move to her hips, but she grabs his wrists, pinning them to the chair. “Not yet,” she says, smirking. She wants him desperate, craving her as much as she’s been craving him all night.

Slowly, she grinds against him, the thin fabric of her nightdress doing little to dull the sensation. Her movements are deliberate, teasing, each roll of her hips making his jaw clench. She can feel him straining beneath her, his hardness pressing against her soaked core. Her own breaths come faster now, her body screaming for more, but she holds back, savoring the power of keeping him on edge.

She leans forward, her lips finding his neck, kissing and nibbling along his jawline. His pulse races under her tongue, and she smiles against his skin. “Tell me you want me,” she whispers, her voice a sultry challenge.

“I want you,” he groans, his voice rough with need. “Please, baby.”

That’s what she’s been waiting for. She reaches down, guiding him to her entrance, and slowly—agonizingly—lowers herself onto him. The stretch is delicious, filling her just as she’d imagined. She pauses, letting them both feel the moment, her walls clenching around him. His head falls back, a low moan escaping his lips.

She starts to move, rocking her hips in a steady rhythm, her hands braced on his shoulders. The chair creaks under them, but she doesn’t care. All she can focus on is the way he feels inside her, the way his hands strain against her grip, desperate to touch her. She releases his wrists, and immediately, his hands are on her, one gripping her hip, the other sliding up to cup her breast through the nightdress.

Her pace quickens, the heat building between them. She tugs his hair, pulling his head back to kiss him deeply, their tongues tangling as she rides him harder. The lace of her stockings rubs against his thighs, adding to the friction, the intensity. She can feel herself getting close, the pressure coiling tight in her core.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps against her lips, his hands tightening on her. She doesn’t intend to. She grinds down harder, chasing her release, feeling him pulse inside her. The room fills with their sounds—her moans, his groans, the rhythmic creak of the chair.

Finally, the tension snaps. She cries out, her body shuddering as waves of pleasure crash over her. He follows seconds later, his grip on her tightening as he spills inside her, his breath hot against her neck. They stay like that for a moment, panting, her forehead resting against his.

She pulls back slightly, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. “That’s better,” she says, her voice soft but triumphant. She slides off him, adjusting her nightdress, and tosses him a playful glance over her shoulder as she heads back to the bedroom. “Don’t work too late,” she calls out, knowing full well he’s not going back to his laptop anytime soon.

He laughs, a low, husky sound, and shakes his head. “You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, but the grin on his face tells her he’s more than okay with that.