Conference Room #2 After Hours (Chp 10) END
Michael Bluth x Reader tags: Slow burn, Office tension, Smut, P in V, make out, Drug use, Oral Fem reciving. Minors DNI.
The audit is almost finished. The tension is not.
A night that was supposed to be about closing a file becomes about everything theyâve been avoidingâunspoken wants, careful restraint, and the kind of connection that refuses to stay professional.
Authors notes: The end of this story is here. This was super fun to write. Sorry to the couple of you I had worried this would never be finished. Here it is the spicy finish like always please enjoy.
The final night came upon us quicker than I expected. As I got ready for work, I found myself reaching for my best shoes, a skirt that hugged me just right, a matching setâlike I was anticipating something, even if I wouldnât admit it.
I waved off the thought that I was dressing up for Michael. I told myself I just wanted to look nice. Presentable.
The question made a small smile tug at my lips. I flushed at the thought of his mouth, his hands, the way he pressed close when we connected. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, a shiver running through me.
By the time my alarm rang, I was already slipping on my shoes and heading out the door. Iâd miss these night hours. There was something grounding about sleeping in and working in an empty officeâspace to think, to focus. And having Michael mostly to myself was not something I was ready to admit I cared about.
Outside my apartment, a raindrop hit my cheek. The air was cold and damp, my breath visible as I exhaled. It was going to be a chilly day.
When I arrived at work, the quiet hit me immediatelyâtoo quiet. The uncomfortable kind. The elevator ride felt louder than it should have, the ding echoing as it carried me from the lobby to our floor.
When the doors opened, I became acutely aware of myself. My heart thudded in my ears. Heat crept up my face as I stepped forward, my lingerie shifting against my thigh.
Each step felt clumsier than the last. As I neared the shared office Michael and I had occupied for the past month, my legs seemed determined to betray me. I almost tripped over nothingâjust air. Luckily, no one was there to see it.
I opened the office door.
Michael, as always, didnât look up.
The silence settled between us, thick and irritating.
âItâs pouring out there,â I said, shrugging off my damp jacket. Strands of hair clung to my forehead.
âHmm.â He nodded, eyes still on the papers in front of him, like they held the answers to everything. Something about it annoyed me more than it should have.
Normally, I wouldâve pushed. Instead, I suddenly felt too self-conscious for our usual banter.
âOkay then,â I said, sarcasm slipping through despite myself.
He finally looked up. âIs there a problem?â His head barely lifted, but his eyes locked onto mine.
âOf course not.â I smiled tightly as I pulled out my things. âJust glad to be done with this.â I dropped a binder onto the table, snapping it open. âYep. Pretty glad,â I muttered.
Michael exhaled and dragged a hand over his face. âAlright. Thereâs obviously something wrong,â he said, looking at me properly nowâcontrolled, but not unkind.
âNope. Nothing at all.â I sneezed immediately after, a shiver following close behind.
Without saying anything, he stood. Another quiet sigh, then he took his dry jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
âFine. Just donât get sick.â His hand lingered there for a moment. âI donât want to finish your screw-up alone.â He gave my shoulder a brief squeeze before heading back to his desk.
âExcuse me?â I smirked. âThat was our mistake. Donât forget that, Mr. Perfect.â
Wrapped in his jacket, surrounded by the scent of oak and sandalwood, I felt warmer than I should have. For the next hour, focusing was nearly impossible. Heat kept rising to my face. I tried not to look at himâbut I failed.
âWhat?â He caught me and laughed softly. âYouâre gonna poke a hole.â He smirked and went back to work.
He bit his penânot enough to damage it, just enough to be deliberate. Slow. Thoughtful.
Did he not know you werenât supposed to make biting a pen hot?
I watch him nibble at the pen and immediately think it would be better if it were something else he had between his teeth. I catch myself and take a slow breath, grounding it back down.
âI think I need a bathroom break,â I say, already standing. Itâs not really a questionâjust a statement.
âOkay, Iâll see youââ
I donât hear the rest. The door closes behind me before he can finish, and he still hasnât looked up from his papers.
The bathroom lights buzz to life as I flip the switch. I stare at myself in the mirror.
I press my hands to my face, trying to calm the rush under my skin. I turn on the sink, hoping cold water will help. It doesnât. If anything, it only makes the contrast worseâcold hands, flushed cheeks, heat I canât explain away.
After a few minutes, I finally leave.
When I get back to the office, Michael isnât in his chair. My first instinct is to go looking for him. I barely have time to argue with myself before I hear the menâs bathroom door down the hall.
I force my attention back to work. The papers on the desk are scattered, completely out of order. I know how much Michael hates that. Against my better judgment, I start organizing themâpartly to be helpful, partly so I can throw it back at him later.
Iâm so focused that it slips my mind what Iâm wearing. Bent over the desk, the edge of lace is visible if youâre looking closely enough.
Someone clears their throat.
I glance back. Michael is leaning against the doorframe. I donât straighten up right away.
âOh, hey,â I say casually. âYouâve got quite the mess here. One might think youâre messy by nature.â
Before I can finish the sentence, his hand plants on the desk beside mine. Then I feel his weightânot crushing, not rushedâjust enough to make his presence undeniable. He leans in, his nose tracing slowly along my neck. His voice is low when he speaks, close to my ear.
âWhat exactly do you think youâre doing?â
His hand inches closer to mine, just enough that our fingers brush. I bite my lip to keep myself quiet.
âWhat?â I manage. âWhat are you talking about?â
I shiver as his breath ghosts my skin.
âIâm not spelling it out,â he says calmly. âIâm not a teenager. I know what youâre doing. Iâve known for weeks.â
Thereâs a brief pause. Then a soft, almost amused breath of a laugh.
âIf you donât stop,â he continues, âIâm not sure Iâll be able to keep playing nice.â
He straightens, stepping back completelyâcontrolled, composed, himself again.
âIf Iâm messy,â he adds, eyes lingering on me a second too long, âthatâs what I have you for.â
The smile he gives me is disarming. Heated. Familiar.
And I canât tell if this is just Michael being Michaelâor something entirely new.
I swallow and straighten, forcing a laugh even though I can still feel the ghost of him behind me.
âIâm more than just an organizer, you know,â I say, grasping for banter, trying my best to pretend that didnât just shake me to my core.
He only smiles, a short huff of amusement escaping him as he turns back to his work.
I canât focus after that. Numbers blur together. Auditing feels impossible. I cross my legs, hoping itâll settle me, but it only makes things worse. Having his jacket draped over meâhis scent lingeringâdoesnât help either.
All of this, and all weâve ever done is kiss.
Somehow, I push through my tasks, using the excuse of making copies every so often just to breatheâto escape his lingering looks and my own wandering eyes.
When I make my final copy, I glance at the time and realize Iâve reached the end of the file. The last page slides into view, and something tightens in my chest as it lands in the tray.
Once I hand this in, once he signs off, thatâs it.
The late nights. The banter. The tension. All of it ends. I go back to being just another faceless office assistant at Bluth.
I grip the stack, crumpling one corner before catching myself and smoothing it out. Then I head back to the office, half-expecting Michael to be exactly where I left him.
He isâbut heâs stretching now. Arms raised, back arching just enough that his shirt comes untucked, exposing a strip of toned stomach and a lazy trail of hair disappearing south. My eyes follow before I can stop them.
âIâm back with the last batch,â I say, setting the papers down. âAfter this, weâre done.â
âThatâs it?â He smiles. âWow. One hell of a file.â
âThatâs an understatement.â My nerves get the better of me, words coming out flatter than I intend.
âLetâs take a break,â he says, turning toward me.
âHuh?â I blink. âDidnât we justââ
âCome on.â Heâs already moving, heading toward that spotâthe one where we kissed, where everything shifted, where I used to avoid him.
âI thought you didnâtââ
He grabs my hand before I can finish.
âTodayâs a special case,â he says, leading me up the stairs and through the rooftop door, never letting go.
Once outside, he releases my hand only to reach into his pocket. He pulls out a joint and a lighter.
âItâs my way of paying you back,â he says, wearing the most unconvincing smile Iâve ever seen on him.
I laugh. âAnd where did a square like you get this?â
âI have my resources,â he says, tryingâand failingâto sound cool.
I look him dead in the eye. âIt was Gob, wasnât it?â
He shakes his head. âNope. Got this one all on my own.â
âYeah, right. Seriouslyâwhere?â
He sighs. âFine. Tobias.â
I laugh again. âOf course.â
âI told him I needed flowers,â Michael adds. âThis is⌠not exactly what I had in mind. But it works.â
I stop short. âWaitâyou wanted to get me flowers?â
âI never said that,â he replies quickly. âThey were for someone else.â
I step closer, lifting the joint to my lips. âGot a light?â
He flicks the lighter, shielding the flame from the wind with one hand as he leans in, lighting it for me with the other.
âThat lie was terrible,â I say after taking my first puff.
Before I can take a second, Michael plucks the joint from my fingers.
âIf Iâm such a bad liar,â he says casually, âthen I guess Iâll keep it all to myself.â He settles the joint between his lips and crosses his arms, clearly enjoying himself.
I try to reach for it, but the height difference makes that harder than expected. I make a few small hops, the sound of my heels tapping against the rooftop after each failed attempt.
âThatâs not fair,â I protest. âSharing is caring.â
He laughs as I try again.
He steps closer, close enough that I stop moving altogether. His hand comes up, fingers tilting my chin until Iâm looking up at him.
He takes a measured puff, then leans in, exhaling slowlyâhis lips brushing mine just barely as the smoke leaves his mouth. When he pulls back, all I see is that infuriating, satisfied smirk.
âWhen did you learn that?â I ask, his hand still resting under my chin, his mouth only inches from mine.
âI told you,â he says lightly. âI was a bit of a rebel in college. Shotgunningâs a basic stoner skill. How else was I supposed to impress women?â
âWell,â I say, inching closer without thinking, âyou definitely impressed this one.â
He places the joint back against my lips.
I inhale, then follow his leadâexhaling slowly, straight toward his mouth, watching his expression shift just slightly as the smoke curls between us.
His gaze softens as it drops to my lips. I hold my breath and close my eyes, waitingâhopingâfor something to happen. Nothing does. The silence stretches, long enough to feel endless.
When I finally open my eyes, heâs pulled back. His smile is different nowâquieter, sadderâas he lifts a hand and gently strokes my face.
âWhat?â I ask, trying to read him, trying to catch up to whateverâs happening behind his eyes.
âI justâŚâ He stops, exhales, then tries again. âIâll miss this.â
There it is. The thing I didnât want to hearâdidnât want to admit I was afraid of.
âThis?â I step closer, closing the distance he created. My hand comes up to his, cupping it as I lean into the touch. âWhat even is this?â I ask, bracing myself for the answer anyway.
He takes a deep breath and pulls me in, his other hand settling around my waist.
âThis isâŚâ He pauses, then smiles like heâs found the perfect escape. âThis is an HR violation.â
I hit his arm lightly. âIâm serious.â
âWhen are you ever serious?â he jokes, but his grip tightens, like I might drift away if he lets go.
âOkay, fair. But seriouslyâwhatâs with you today? Youâre being all mysterious.â I donât mention the almost-kiss, though it keeps replaying in my head.
âIs it really that bad that Iâm being nice to you on our last day?â he says, his thumb brushing my cheek.
âItâs not bad,â I admit. âJust scary. What happened to the sarcastic, closed-off Michael?â I slide my hands up and gently squish his face, making us both laugh. Somehow, we settle back into something familiar.
âItâs still me,â he says. âUnlessâŚâ He pauses, thinking. âNope. Definitely still me.â
That smile is disarming. I laughâand before I overthink it, I lean in and kiss him. Itâs light, barely there, more a brush than anything else.
He freezes, clearly stunned, which surprises meâweâve kissed before. But this time, his gaze shifts, heat replacing the softness.
âYou shouldnât have done that,â he murmurs. âHR would definitely disapprove.â
Then his lips crash into mine.
My hands slide up to his neck, pulling him closer. He lets the joint fall away, both arms wrapping around my waist to keep me steady, pressed to his chest. One hand trails up my back, fingers tangling in my hair as he cradles my head.
It feels more intimate than it shouldâfor only a second kiss.
Our kiss only deepens, our mouths falling open as our tongues tangle together. Heâs more insistent than I imaginedâand a very good kisser, I realize distantly as he nibbles at my lower lip before finally pulling back so we can breathe.
Thereâs so much desperation in it that it almost overwhelms me. We stare at each other, chests rising and falling, both of us still catching our breath. Without a word, Michael moves againâthis time to my neckâpressing us back against the wall for support.
His lips trail from my ear downward, a slow line of kisses all the way to my collarbone. Each one is deliberate, each carrying its own bite or nibble. Every time a sound slips from me and my eyes flutter open, all I find is his gaze.
Itâs the kind of gaze that could melt the Arctic. I feel like a meal in front of the hungriest man alive.
âYou really are a tease,â he murmurs against my skin. âYou know that, right? Wearing things like this to work. I might have to file an HR report.â
Iâm not usually one for dirty talk, but after everything thatâs happened recently, my mind follows him there anyway.
âWhat would you say?â I ask softly, breathless.
âIn the report, I mean.â
He bites my skinânot enough to hurt or bruise, just enough to make me gasp.
âWell,â he says slowly, âIâd have to start with conduct. Very disobedient. Sometimes difficult to work with.â His mouth lingers, his voice low. âMostly because sheâs incredibly distracting.â
His hands come up, gripping my breasts through the thin fabric of my blouse, fingers teasing over it. I canât help the small whimper that slips out, a shiver running through me at his touch.
âI could probably write two full pages just about your clothing,â he continues, tugging at my buttons as his mouth returns to my neck, relentless. âHow inappropriate it is.â
I tug lightly at his hair and clamp a hand over my mouth to keep myself quiet.
âThese flimsy blouses, buttons ready to pop,â he murmurs. âThose tight skirts that leave nothing to the imagination. But today⌠today you crossed a line.â
His fingers finish undoing my shirt, pulling it open. My chest is fully exposed, the black lace bralette I chose cupping me perfectly. The cool night air brushes my skin, slowly tinting it pink.
Michael looks up at me with a smirk. âThis is incredibly inappropriate,â he says. âDefinitely not work attire.â
One finger hooks into the lace, tugging it down until my breasts spill free. He watches my face as he plays with one nipple, my expression giving me away as I bite my lip to stay quiet.
âGod,â he murmurs. âWhat am I going to do with you? You look soââ
He doesnât finish the sentence before taking one breast into his mouth, teasing with his teeth while his other hand works the one heâs left behind.
âMâMichaelâŚâ I breathe, barely managing the sound as heat coils tighter and tighter in my core. I press my legs together, desperate for friction. âI donât⌠think we should⌠here.â
He pulls back, nodding, breathless too. âLook at you,â he says softly. âMaybe you do have a good head on your shoulders.â
âMaybe Iâm just scared of that HR report becoming real,â I joke weakly, trying to recoverâuntil he pinches one nipple between his fingers, making me gasp.
âWhat a shame,â he says as his gaze holds mine. âBut if not here⌠then where?â
My brain lags, still caught on the way his fingers keep teasing. âMâmy place?â I manage.
He considers it, still torturing me with slow, deliberate touches. He keeps pulling and pinching at the poor nipple, never hurting but definitely teasing. âThat could work.â
âYeah,â I add breathlessly, âno George Michael at my placeâunless you count a CD.â
His mouth twitches. âVery funny,â he says, smoothing my bra back into place, buttoning my shirt like this is all perfectly normal. âWouldnât want anyone hearing you say my name all night.â
Then he checks his watchâlike we werenât just pressed together moments ago.
âWell,â he says lightly, âlook at that. It's almost time to go.â
He turns and heads back downstairs, leaving me standing there, stunned.
This is Michaelâthe same man who just made my knees weak like it was nothing.
The drive to my place is quiet in a way that feels deliberate. Michael follows me up the stairs without touching me, without saying much at all. The distance feels louder than anything he couldâve done.
Inside, I flick on the light and immediately regret how small the space feels. Too intimate. Too lived-in. My shoes are kicked off near the door, a throw blanket draped over the couch like itâs been waiting to witness something.
âSorry,â I say automatically, gesturing vaguely. âI didnât really plan for company.â
He hums in acknowledgment, eyes moving slowly around the room, taking it in the same way he studies filesâquiet, observant, unreadable. âItâs fine,â he says. âFeels⌠like you.â
That does something to me.
I set my bag down, suddenly hyper-aware of my own movements, of how close he is behind me now. Not touching. Just there. The air feels thicker, warmer, like itâs holding its breath.
âSo,â I say, turning halfway to face him, already knowing how inadequate the word is. âThis is where I live.â
He meets my gaze, something softer creeping into his expressionâsomething less guarded than before. âI know,â he says quietly. âThatâs why Iâm being careful.â
The weight of that lands heavier than anything else tonight.
I blush and look away, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands.
âUmâdo you want water? Juice? Wine?â I open the fridge, scanning it like it might save me. âOh. Thereâs no juice. I can run out and get someâitâll only take a second.â I reach for my coat again, flustered.
His hand closes around mine, stopping me mid-movement.
âI donât want juice.â
That look againâthe one that makes my thoughts scatter.
I let go of the coat and let him guide me closer, his hand still holding mine, his eyes never leaving my face.
âI just want⌠you,â he says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
I look up at him and rise onto my toes, meeting his lips. When we kiss again, it feels differentâquieter, steadier, like something settling into place. My body responds instantly anyway, warmth blooming under my skin. My hands slide up around his neck as his settle at my waist, pulling me in.
The kiss deepens, slow and unhurried this time, the earlier hunger tempered into something heavier. He lifts me with ease and carries me a few steps to my bedroom, setting me down on the bed like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
He kneels in front of me, gaze steady, unbreaking, and presses a line of kisses along my legs. Even through the fabric, every touch feels intentionalâmeasured. Like heâs learning me. Watching me.
He notices everything. Where I tense. Where I react. Where my breath catches just a little too sharply. He returns to those spots without hesitation, and I have to grip the sheets to keep myself still, to keep myself quiet.
The patience in it is almost unbearable.
It feels electric, sending shivers up my spine that pool low in my belly. His lips trail higher, the warmth of his breath seeping through the thin fabric of my skirt, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. I can feel the rough stubble on his jaw brushing against my thighs, a delicious contrast to the softness of his mouth, and my breath hitches as he pauses, his hands sliding up to grip my hips with a gentle but insistent pressure.Â
There's a quiet intensity in his eyes when he looks up at me, as if he's memorizing every reaction, every subtle shift in my expression, and it makes my heart race faster than the physical sensations alone.
âMm Michale..â is all i can say most of the time as he explores my body.Â
âI knew you would be saying my name..â he says between kisses with a cocky tone in his voice.
He doesn't rush; instead, his fingers find the hem of my skirt, inching it upward with deliberate slowness, exposing more of my skin to the cool air of the room. The anticipation builds, a throbbing heat between my legs that I can't ignore, and when his lips finally press directly against the inside of my thigh, bare and unfiltered, I gasp softly.
âSo sensitive..â he teases before biting the plump soft skin of my inner thigh.
 His tongue flicks out, tasting me, and I feel myself growing wetter, my pussy aching for more as he nuzzles closer. Michael's hands move to part my legs further, his thumbs tracing circles on my inner thighs, and the way he looks at meâhungry yet reverentâstirs something deep inside, a mix of vulnerability and desire that makes me arch toward him. He murmurs my name against my skin, the sound vibrating through me, and I thread my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as the world narrows to just this moment, this connection.
As he shifts higher, his mouth hovering over the damp fabric of my underwear, I feel the first real wave of surrender.Â
â you have no idea .. how long .. ive wanted .. to do thisâ he says as his tongue makes contact with the wet fabric. âYou are a mess down here.. Maybe you thought about it too..â he trails a dinger down my core and close to my entrance. âMaybe more than once?â he asked, looking up.
I nod,desperate for more contact.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband and slides them down, revealing me fully, and the cool air hits my exposed folds, making me shiver. His gaze locks on mine for a heartbeat, filled with that same careful intensity, before he leans in, his tongue delving into my slick heat with a slow, exploratory stroke.Â
The sensation is overwhelmingâwet and warm, his lips and tongue working in tandem to tease my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through my body that make my breasts heave with each ragged breath.
He pulls back slightly for air. âWhat gives.. You taste so sweetâ he says between pants as he sucks and nibbles at your skin. You almost think he is hungry for real. My head falls back while I feel his tongue expertly lick between my folds to find my clit and begin a relentless attack on the little nub of nerves.Â
He starts by sucking on it lightly, almost waking it up. Then he proceeds to give open mouth kisses while slowly adding pressure from his tongue. The slow and deliberate movements had me nearing the edge of pleasure; each kiss had me shivering and gasping at the sensation. Without warning he began to suck on the ball of nerves. This caused me to pull away to push him off from the overwhelming sensation. He did not budge, instead he was determined to ruin me.Â
He responds by slipping a finger inside me, curling it just right to hit that sensitive spot, all while his mouth continues its relentless, devoted rhythm. It's not just the physical bliss; it's the way he seems to savor every sound I make, every twitch of my hips, as if this act is as much about cherishing me as it is about the raw, building ecstasy threatening to consume us both.
His fingers curl deeper inside me, stroking that sweet, hidden spot with a rhythm that's both tender and insistent, as if he's unraveling me layer by layer, drawing out every hidden desire I've kept buried. My hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of that exquisite pressure, and I feel the slick heat of my arousal coating his hand, my pussy clenching around him in greedy waves.Â
âYou close..â he says as he looks up at me. I can't help but nod and reply âyesâ in a breathy voice.
Michael's mouth never leaves my clit, his tongue swirling with renewed fervor, alternating between firm laps and gentle flicks that send sparks of fire racing through my veins. The room seems to fade away, leaving only the sound of my ragged breaths mingling with his low, appreciative groans, the air thick with the musky scent of our shared passion. It's intoxicating, the way he worships meâhis free hand sliding up my body to cup my breast, thumb brushing over the hardened nipple through my shirt, amplifying the pleasure until I'm a trembling mess beneath him.
Yet, even in this haze of bliss, I sense his restraint, his desire to prolong this moment, to make it last. He slows his pace slightly, his fingers pumping with deliberate languor while his lips trail lower, tasting the essence of my arousal with a hunger that feels almost primal. It's not just about the physical release; it's the way he makes me feel seen, cherished in my most unguarded state, turning this act into a dance of mutual surrender that binds us tighter with every shared breath.
As the tension builds, coiling tight in my core like a storm about to break, I arch my back, my fingers tightening in his hair, urging him on without words. He responds by adding a second finger, stretching me just enough to heighten the fullness, his movements synchronized with the relentless tease of his tongue.
He hums against me, the vibration pushing me closer to the edge. My body responds in kind, thighs quivering around his shoulders, the building ecstasy threatening to shatter me into pieces.
My orgasm overflows. I shiver as the waves of pleasure wash over me. My hips buck upwards to his mouth.Â
He finally pulls away. He pulls his fingers out of me and sucks them clean, while some of my arousal still drips on his chin.Â
âWell this sure was not very appropriate of usâ he teases with a smirk. âThe report will be 5 pages long if we add this incident, and how you couldn't stop shouting my nameâ he teases.Â
I gather my breath slowly â so cocky for someone .. so turned onâ i use my leg to press on his hard on. This makes him wince at the sudden friction. He grabs my leg to stop it but with zero conviction.
He smirks at me âcan you blame me.. When I have you like this in front of meâ he teases what's left of your lingerie.Â
âGuess not .. very inappropriate behaviour from both our parts wouldn't you think so sirâ it slips out not because i was trying to be sexy i got caught up in the whole office scenario. The moment I said it I could see it affected him.
His grip on my thighs tighten. He maneuvered one of my legs away from his crotch with ease.Â
âCome again?â he says with a grin on his face that is almost annoying if you don't find it cute.Â
âNotningâ i say a little shy trying to pretend I didn't just say what I did.
âOh no, come onâ he says, grinding his clothed hard against my sensitive exposed clit, making me gasp again.
âI didnt say .. ah .. anythingâ I doubled down. He continued to grind relentlessly.
âYes you did, you say too much actuallyâ he teases. The grinding is driving me insane. It's enough friction and not enough all at the same time.
âGo on, say it. I know you want toâ he pressed.
âFuck ⌠fine ⌠please .. fuck me .. sirâ I say a little emberassed to be this turned on.Â
âRequest approvedâ he said leaning down to kiss me hard again this time hungry like before. Nipping and bitting at my swollen lip.Â
He shifts his weight, his body sliding up along mine with deliberate grace, the hard length of his cock pressing against my thigh through the fabric of his pants, a tantalizing reminder of what's to come. His fingers, still slick from my arousal, trace lazy patterns on my hip, igniting fresh sparks of need as he whispers against my lips, "I want to feel all of you," his voice a husky vow that sends a shiver through me, amplifying the ache in my core.
With a smooth, unhurried motion, he pulls his shirt over his head and lets it fall aside. The defined planes of his chest are revealed, along with a dark trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his trousers. I stareâlong enough that he notices.
âThere you go,â he says, amused. âBurning holes again.â
My eyes move over him shamelessly now, taking in details Iâve only ever caught glimpses of through fitted office shirts. Lean muscle, solid and practiced. A body shaped by time, not vanityâbroad where it counts, worn in the way that comes from living a full life.
The line of hair down the center of his chest thins as it spreads outward, imperfect and natural. Thereâs nothing polished about him, nothing manufacturedâand thatâs exactly what makes it so compelling, so attractive, so Michael.
This is a man whoâs lived. Whoâs loved. Whoâs weathered things.
And somehow, standing here with me now.
 As his cock springs free, thick and veined, pulsing with the same urgency I feel, he positions himself between my thighs, the head of it brushing against my soaked folds in a teasing glide that makes me gasp and arch toward him.
His face is flushed as he looks at me. âYou ready?â he asks even before being fully aligned to come inside.Â
 He pauses then, his hand cupping my face with surprising tenderness, his eyes searching mine for that final affirmation, and in that moment, the emotional weight of our connection hits me like a waveâit's not just lust, but a profound trust, a shared vulnerability that makes every touch feel sacred.
I nod my head and kiss his hand by my face. Â
Slowly, he pushes inside, filling me inch by inch, the stretch of my pussy around his cock both exquisite and overwhelming, drawing a moan from deep within as our bodies finally join in that perfect, rhythmic union.
He stays still for a moment, not moving, as if giving himself time to adjustâto the closeness, to the weight of being connected to me. We hold each otherâs gaze, and in that quiet pause, everything that led us here flashes through my mind all at once.
He smiles. âYouâre so beautiful,â he says softly, then kisses me. The wordsâand the way he says themâmake me blush, and I donât even notice my body tense in response.
âWhoa,â he murmurs with a faint laugh as he pulls back slightly. âEasy there. Youâre getting too tight.â
âSorry,â I whisper, my voice barely there.
He shakes his head. âNo. Itâs okay,â he says gently. âJust⌠warn me next time.â He exhales, steadying himself. âYou think I can move now?â Thereâs tenderness in his voice, a quiet check-in that makes my chest tighten.
He moves slowlyâvery slowlyâand leans down again, capturing my lips in another kiss, just as careful, just as deliberate.
The pace builds gradually, his thrusts deep and measured at first, each one hitting that sensitive spot inside me while his hands roam to my breasts, thumbs circling my hardened nipples with a pressure that sends jolts of pleasure straight to my core.Â
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, our skin slick with sweat and desire, the air filled with the erotic symphony of our gasps and the wet sounds of our bodies moving together. Michael's breath is hot against my neck as he murmurs words of praise, his voice laced with emotion.
âGod,â he breathes, voice rough, restraint finally fraying. âI held back for so long. You have no idea how hard that was.â
His pace shiftsâfirmer, more intentionalâand then he stops, holding me right there, letting the pressure speak for him.
âWho do you answer to?â he asks, low and deliberate, like he already knows the answer.
âYou,â I whisper, the word pulling something deep and aching from me.âyou .. sirâ
A slow smile curves at his mouth. âThatâs right,â he murmurs. âYouâre mine.â
The possessiveness in his voice sends a sharp thrill through me, his control unmistakable, chosenânot forced.
His speeds up but the intensity of each thrust stayed the same. Every time he thrusted inside me I could see stars. Slowly inching closer to my climax.
The words, paired with the mix of physical intensity and something deeper, tip me closer to the edge. Everything builds at once, tight and inevitable, binding us together in that shared moment.
âIâm⌠close,â I manage, my voice unsteady.
He nods. âMe too.â His grip tightens on my thighsâfirm, grounding. I know Iâll feel it later.
We stay there for a few more breaths, chasing it together, until we finally reach it at the same time. I pull him into a kiss instinctively, clinging to him as the aftershocks roll through me. He softens into it, letting his weight settle as the last of it passes.
When he finally pulls back, he stays close. âYou okay?â he asks, brushing damp hair away from my face with surprising tenderness.
I nod, smiling. âYeah. Iâm okay.â
âGood.â He leans down and kisses me again, slower now.
When he pulls back, I canât help myself. âI had no idea audits were so hot.â
He laughs, shaking his head at the terrible joke.
âYou never stop, do you?â he says, smiling as he settles beside me, his fingers threading through mine.
âI donât think it was the audit,â he adds, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it softly.