In the dimly lit office, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and a hint of something illicit. Rebecca, a woman of Amazonian stature and endowments to match, sat behind her desk, her perfectly manicured fingers tracing idle patterns over the cool mahogany. She had sent her assistant home for the day, claiming a headache, but in truth, she had an appointment of a different sort.
A soft knock at the door startled her from her reverie, and she called out, “Come in.” The door creaked open, revealing a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. His eyes widened as they took in the sight of Rebecca, her ample cleavage on full display as she leaned forward, her long, red hair cascading over her shoulders.
“You must be Mr. Smith,” she said, her voice a sultry purr.
He nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her. “And you must be Ms. Johnson,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.
Rebecca stood, smoothing her pencil skirt down over her hips. “Please, call me Rebecca,” she said, extending a hand. He took it, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her.
She led him to the sofa in the corner of her office, pouring them each a glass of whiskey. They made small talk, their eyes locked, the tension between them growing with each passing moment. Rebecca could feel the heat radiating from him, and she knew that he felt it too.
Without warning, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. He responded eagerly, his hands tangling in her hair as she deepened the kiss. She could feel his erection straining against his pants, and she reveled in the power she held over him.
Breaking the kiss, she stood, her eyes challenging him. “Take off your clothes,” she commanded, her voice firm.
He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in her eyes was too much to resist. He stripped, revealing a toned, muscular body that made Rebecca’s mouth water. She stepped closer, running her hands over his chest, his abs, his thighs.
He groaned, his hands finding her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She gasped, her head falling back as he bent his head, taking one rosy peak into his mouth. She could feel herself growing wet, her body aching for him.
Rebecca pushed him back onto the sofa, climbing onto his lap. She ground her hips against him, feeling his hard length against her. He groaned, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her.
She reached between them, positioning him at her entrance. She sank down onto him, her head falling back as he filled her. He thrust up into her, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.
She leaned forward, her breath hot against his ear. “Harder,” she whispered, and he obliged, his hips slamming into hers. She could feel herself nearing the edge, her moans growing louder.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. He followed her over the edge, his release filling her.
They collapsed onto the sofa, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in gasps. Rebecca looked at him, a satisfied smile playing at her lips. “I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, Mr. Smith,” she said, her voice a purr.
He grinned, his arms tightening around her. “I think you’re right, Rebecca.”
