Bossy Christmas Party: CEO Older Man Taboo Office Romance

by Mia Madison

  “All I'm asking is whether you'd like to start your mid-life crisis right now.”

  I know. That was really pushing it.

  His jaw stiffens and I suddenly notice how solid and broad his forearms are, still bare from where he rolled up his shirtsleeves earlier. The expanse of muscle wouldn't look out of place attached to a prizefighter and flexes with what I eagerly hope is blood pounding with hunger.

  My parted pussy lips quiver as Mr Wellman starts toward me from across the office. Anticipation shudders through every pore as I wait for a spank on the bottom that will surely lead to another steamy kiss.

  His body heat crashes into me first and leaves me breathless. Instead of the slap I'd expected across my round butt through the fabric of my office outfit, he palms the sides of my thighs to drag the tightened skirt up my legs. All the way up, a rail of goosebumps following as my skin is exposed.

  Up and over the hold-up stockings I threw on this morning, all my regular hose sporting runs when I tugged them on. He tugs the fabric across the soft pouch of flesh of my thigh tops and an animal grunt escapes his pressed lips. The skirt clears my lifted round ass cheeks, thrust up for a smack.

  Holy shit, it never occurred to me he'd spank my bare butt. I've only been spanked once in my life, as a kinky foreplay with a guy looking to get lucky at a frat party. Here I thought I'd tease the boss with a naughty little slap on the rump through my clothes. Instead I'm standing spread, tilted forward with my thighs exposed, my ass naked and only a sodden strip of fabric covering my pussy.

  I grit my teeth, waiting, every nerve standing on edge with excitement, for the clap I cajoled the boss's son into giving me.

  Chapter Seven

  Instead of bringing down his heavy palm on my buttock, Mr Wellman tugs the top of my thong, pulling the gusset between my aching folds, forcing waves of hunger up into my clit. My tunnel is contracting with pulsations of need for him and he knows it.

  But still he doesn’t give me what I want or what I teased him into. He walks around the desk to his father's dark leather chair and lowers himself into its luxurious support. He rotates to face me, standing immobile at the end of the broad desk and takes me in. I gasp at a breath, realizing I haven't taken one for way too long.

  “Don't move one inch,” he growls.

  I don't dare.

  I doubt my body could support me, I'm trembling so hard.

  He sits back in his chair, one of those that tilt with the weight of the user, tents his fingertips and gazes on me like he's considering opening up negotiations, or making an investment.

  I can't tell. All I know is I feel helpless and at his mercy. All my weight rests on my fingers, dug into the desk top, as my breath quickens and juices start to pour down my inner thighs.

  “What -?” I begin.

  He lifts a hand to silence me.

  “Don't say a word.”

  He leans back further in the chair as he gazes upon the swell of my bare ass.

  “Bra,” he eventually says.

  “Excuse me?” I whimper.

  “Bra. Take it off.”

  My eyes stretch wide in disbelief. He wants me to take off the only slip of clothing between him and completely stripped me? He's insisting that I stand here naked, bent over his desk while he feasts his eyes across my body? My naked tits?

  I can't do that. It's – so dirty. So slutty.

  But my clit has other ideas. Because it's also seriously fucking hot. I know my tits are pretty fantastic and I want him to agree. Anyway, it's nothing girls in the South of France don't do every day at the beach. Of course, we're not on the beach, we're in the penthouse of an empire. The middle of winter, two days before Christmas.

  Mr Wellman's face projects a challenge. He's enjoying my struggle. Blame it on the tequila. I know I will tomorrow. I lift up from my position bent half over the desk to undo my buttons. With a sexy shrug, the shirt slides off my shoulders and I throw it across his legs. I'm rewarded with a glimpse of his fine Italian wool straining across his cock. The bulge is fucking massive.

  My nipples peak with the image of that huge dick sliding into me. I don't even know his name. I know nothing about him except he had a headache at lunchtime and he does whatever he wants. Takes whatever he wants. What he wants now is my tits naked.

  His eyes drop halfway as I reach behind me and unhook the binding. My forearms cup around my girls as I let the straps slide down my shoulders.

  “Off,” he slurs in a low animalistic growl.

  I'm frozen to the spot. I do actually want to bare my tits to him. But then what?

  How far are we going to challenge each other in a game in which he has as many years of experience as I've been alive. Fuck I want him. The need forces itself through every blood vessel with a self-destructive urge. I want him. Want, want, want. I drop the bra to the broadloom and clutch to the edge of the desk as my knees falter. Mr Wellman's chest is rising and falling fast. The same speed as my heart is galloping beneath my swaying breasts.

  “You have incredible fucking tits,” he grits.

  The nipples swell hard with pride.

  “Amazing body.”

  I lower my eyes briefly in modesty.

  “Pinch them,” he says. “Twist them as hard for me as you did for yourself in my bathroom mirror.”

  “You, you- saw that?” I stammer.

  “That's a two way mirror, cuteness,” he says with a filthy grin.

  Ohmigod no.

  He saw me hike up my skirt and pull back my underwear. He was watching me from the other side while I stroked the agonized clit point. His smile stretches wider with amusement as he sees me crumble with embarrassment, realizing boss man saw me pleasuring and admiring myself as no other man ever has.

  My agony climbs to feverish madness. I need to orgasm. The thought of him admiring my pussy sends me reeling. I need to release this pent up carnal thirst and I'm sure that's why he pulled me from the party.

  He's going to take what he wants. And give me what I want.

  And he's too fucking hot to refuse even if I wanted to.

  I do as he orders. Pulling the perky big points of my tits until they're red with heated yearning. My skirt is still hiked up around my waist, higher at the back than the front. The round globes of my ass are exposed but not my pussy. His eyes trail down to my thighs and I know what he's going to want me to do next.

  “Get on the desk,” he demands.

  I sit on the edge.

  “No, get on your knees,” he insists.

  I almost gnaw through my bottom lip as I climb up and kneel across the wood onto all fours. Then I sit back on my haunches so my tits lift up to face him. He stares with rabid starvation lighting his pupils.

  “Open your legs baby girl,” he grates. “Show me your sexy little pussy again.”

  My cheeks flush red but I immediately do as he says. Stretching my knees to their fullest extent and yanking my panties to one side with a trembling hand. Mr Wellman is fixated on my wet slit. His fine cotton shirt is shaking from the force of his heart beating fast.

  I trail one finger up the length of my clit and then place it in my mouth. He watches me carefully and I know he's loving my show because his cock is thrusting to freedom from his fine wool pants.

  I circle two fingers in my pussy mouth, scooping up the copious juices pooling there. Then I lean forward, one hand cupping the side of his desk to lean all the way across the gap between us, my tits swaying firmly in front of him although he still exerts his and manages not to touch me. I swear that strength is going to crumble. I stretch my free hand out to him, fingers glistening, the aroma of my pussy reaching his mouth.

  No sooner do my slick fingers come to rest on his lower lip than he sucks me onto his tongue. My eyes are imprisoned in his as he licks up every drop of my honeyed juice.

  “I'm gonna need more of that,” he says, when I withdraw.

  “Take all you want,” I mewl, my voice betraying me faster than my ravenous pussy. “It
's all yours, Sir.”

  Those words make him jolt in his arrogant pose in the chair. I return to my upright pose, kneeling on his desk with my knees splayed to their fullest extent, my folds shimmery from another spurt of nectar.

  “You better believe that, Princess,” his voice cracks as he inhales the scent of powerful arousal rising from me and enters a hypnotic fervor.

  He rolls his chair closer to the desk and slides two fingers across my bulging slit, making me convulse and throw my hands out for support. I find his solid shoulders, the muscle rock hard and rippling through the billion per cent cotton shirt. I let out a wail at the ceiling as he shoves inside my spread hole.

  “Jeezus that's a perfect fucking pussy,” he groans. “And it's all mine.”

  He corkscrews deep into me, finding the tight end of my tunnel. With every withdrawal he hooks his fingers and presses a virgin spot inside me that sets me alight. I need to come. I want to come on his fingers, my cum is pouring all over them but I need his cock inside me more.

  Chapter Eight

  I'm losing my mind.

  Along with my ability to keep my body upright. I want to curl up in a ball because this isn't real.

  It can't be happening, can it?

  This crazy insta-lust for a stranger. A guy I set eyes on today with insta-loathing.

  How can I be behaving like this?

  It's the need pummeling at my body rendering me reckless.

  I don’t care that I'll probably be kicked out of this job tomorrow. He won't want the reminder of me around. He won't want any whisper of fraternization reaching his father's ears. Get rid of the temp and replace her with the next. I couldn't give a fuck about any of that.

  I want to feel his hands on me more than I want to breathe.

  I want to feel that delicious big cock stretching me open even further than he's already demanded that I open up for him.

  But he won't allow any of it. He's sitting in the big boss chair with this shirt sleeves rolled up like he means business and yet he's hardly touched me. Aside from one kiss that made me come apart at the virtual seams and lose all sense or reason. The one brief plunge into my pussy that’s left me empty inside and begging for more.

  All he wants is for me to touch myself which is what I’ve been doing for months. To gaze on me breathing lust with every breath and while the adulation for my body is nice, it only heightens the hunger pressing me to the pinnacle. The aroma of masculinity rising from his perfect body to mingle with the scent of my arousal invades the entire room and is more than I can stand. He must be trying to drive us both to the edge of insanity because I can't believe he doesn’t feel at least some of this as well. Judging by the way his gorgeous prick is hammering to be set loose.

  He leans in and slides his fingers out of my soaked pussy, my muscles grip and attempt to hold him in, desperate for more. He cups my round ass in his palms and drags me to the edge of the desk and onto his lap. I immediately reach for his cock, sliding my palm up the stupendous thick length through the fine Italian wool. But when I grab at the zipper he pulls my hand away.

  He sits me back on the edge of the desk, as effortlessly as though I'm a puppet, weightless and his to toss around. He pulls my thigh to set one foot on the arm rest. Then the other so my pussy is stretched open for his gaze.

  “Stroke yourself,” he orders me, his voice coarse and cracking. “Tweak that perfect little pussy for me again.”

  He leans back in the chair again, his palms across my feet and watches me rub circles around my entrance. I have never been so slutty. No man has ever seen me stretched so wide or watched me finger myself for more than a couple of seconds of fumbling foreplay.

  I start to pant as my orgasm pools in my toes, ready to hurtle up my thighs like a shooting star. He wants me to come six inches from his face. I can't let go like that. I can't let myself be that vulnerable. Not for a stranger. But he's forcing me and I want to surrender to his demands. The need to climax is shattering.

  “Fuck me,” I pant.

  “Excuse me?” he bites out dangerously low.

  “Fuck me. I want that huge cock inside me.”

  “You'll get a big prick inside that hot tight pussy,” he says, raw and harsh. “It may not be mine but you will get one, I promise. But not until I'm done with you. Now get on your knees.”

  He's not going to let me come. My orgasm recedes as I remove my fingers and immediately the desire starts pulsating at my body like starvation, pushing needy and covetous, like nothing else in the world matters. I'm a sex cannibal. I'd take anything, anyone, right now. This is what he wants to drive me to.

  A ravenous greed.

  What I want is him. I'll eagerly do what he wants and drop to the floor, ready to take his prick in my throat.

  “No, on the desk. I want to see both entrances open for me. Show me all your pussy.”

  I can't do that.

  No one's ever seen my butt hole. Not in my entire life.

  I've never even gone there with the college guys I screwed. I always refused the young jocks that wanted inside my ass. It seemed like something they wanted so as to tick off the sexual must-do list rather than something special and intimate. Knowing they just wanted bragging rights, in some ways my asshole seemed like more of a gift to bestow than my pussy. More intimate. Something to hold sacred for someone I was genuinely involved with.

  And now the boss, the bastard demon of Wall Street takeovers wants it spread for him. I've heard how much it hurts. And it seems so wrong. So naughty. As if being spread naked fingering myself while my boss watches isn’t smutty enough.

  “Are you going to open up like I told you to?” he bites out behind me.

  I shake my head no.

  He's out of his chair in a flash and picks me up off the desk. Then carries me across the room to the closet, the sliding door slightly open, he inserts his foot and shoves it back. What is he going to do to me for not complying with his order?

  Quivers shake my naked breasts, pressed against his solid chest. The ridges of muscle carve through the fine cotton of his shirt. I clap my hand around his shoulder, relishing the solid bicep. Needing him harder. What wouldn't I do to possess him?

  “Okay,” I whisper. If only he'd lick my pointed tit, tug the peak between his lips and suck it onto his tongue, biting and nipping.

  “Okay?” he repeats.

  “Okay I'll spread myself for you,” I whimper. “All of me.”

  “That's sweet of you to offer but it's one time too many you've thwarted my command. Do you not generally do what your boss tells you?”

  “Not really,” I snip. “I'm not a fan of the patriarchal society.”

  “Is that so? I need you to learn to take orders and do what I tell you as soon as I tell you.”

  Is he kidding?

  I want to put him in his place except I’m quaking from being held in his arms. His thick bicep under my thighs so close to the soaked flesh at my pussy folds. The swollen point is pushing fiercely out from the mound. Almost as hard as his cock is forcing to be set free. At least I'm naked. Being bound inside clothes would be unfathomable torment right now. Being exposed naked to Mr Wellman is the hottest thing ever.

  He sets me down, inside the empty closet. My legs want to give out from the proximity of his solid body. I want to claw him to me, dig my fingers into his shoulders until he pummels his dick into me. But my knees are weak as he unties the knot at his collar and ties it around my wrist. I recall Deke with a necktie around his waist. Is that a thing at this company?

  But Mr Wellman pulls my hand above my head so my tit lifts. He's distracted by the perky swollen mound and for a moment I think I'm going to get what I crave. Which is his hot mouth sucking and biting the tip. But he tugs my other arm above my head and straps his necktie around each wrist before securing it firmly to a hook placed in the wall.

  “What now?” I squeak.

  Terror and desire mixing up into a cocktail of wanton longing. Mr Wellman reaches
deeper into the endless closet and pulls out another tie.

  “Now I need you to stop talking,” he says.

  I open my mouth and allow him to bind the silk necktie around and knot it behind my head.

  “Don't be afraid,” he says thumbing across my nipple sending shards of electric current firing straight at my clit. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not without your permission. Okay?”

  His eyes glue to mine and I read lust and desire for me there, not anything cruel. He wants me to feel something. I nod my head vigorously. Whatever he wants to do to me, I want it. Really bad.

  “You have the most gorgeous fucking body I've ever seen. I wanted to fuck you the instant I set eyes on you in the deli.”

  “You don’t remember me.” I squeak, hoping and praying he's erased the lunchtime incident that seems like a year ago.

  “I damn well do,” he barks. “You're the most unforgettable woman I ever met.”

  “What? That surprises you?”

  My eyes must register shock because he works to reassure me.

  “I got no work done all afternoon thanks to your outburst in the deli. I've done nothing but think about being buried inside you since you took me to task. Drilling your tight pussy and that scolding sexy mouth. Imagine my delight when I saw you walk into my office clutching your snack treats. It seemed like my Christmas had arrived early.”

  Chapter Nine

  He wanted to fuck me the instant he set eyes on me?

  Me?

  When he could have any woman he wants.

  Emotions fly tingling into my bare breasts and up my bound arms.

  Why me?

  I'm desperate to ask. Of course, the gag prevents me from speaking one word. I have to stay with the sensations rolling through me which are elevating my arousal faster than a new world elevator. My tits are heaving up and down equally rapidly with every gasp of breath.

  “First I want you naked,” he says as he undoes the button and zipper to my tight skirt and shimmies it over my hips.

  It falls to the floor and I immediately step out of it, receiving a smile in return.