Little Aria

"Get in here now, Mia. My office. Don't make me wait."

Damien Voss's voice cut through the speaker on my desk like a whip. My heart slammed against my ribs as I grabbed the report folder with shaky hands. The entire floor was empty. Just me and him on a Friday night, the city lights glittering through the massive glass walls like silent watchers.

I pushed open the heavy door to his top-floor office. He sat behind his sleek black desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up over powerful forearms. Those dark eyes locked on me immediately, scanning my curvy figure like he owned every inch.

"Close the door," he ordered, voice low and rough. "Lock it."

I did as he said, the click echoing too loud in the quiet room. "Mr. Voss, I finished the quarterly projections. I stayed late to…"

"Sit." He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. I sat, smoothing my tight skirt down my thighs. My cheeks burned. He was already flipping through the pages I'd emailed him an hour ago, his jaw tight.

"This is shit, Mia." He tossed the folder down. "You call this analysis? Numbers don't lie, but you clearly do." He stood up slowly, circling around the desk like a shark. His cologne hit me, woodsy, expensive, dangerous. "Explain why these forecasts are off by fifteen percent."

"I... I double-checked everything, sir. The market data…"

"Stand up." His command left no room for argument.

I rose on unsteady legs. He kept circling, stopping right behind me. I could feel the heat from his body. "Bend over the desk. Now. Let's 'proofread' this together."

My breath caught. "Mr. Voss, I don't…"

"Bend. Over." His hand landed on my lower back, firm, guiding me down until my breasts pressed against the cool glass surface. Papers scattered. The city sprawled out below us through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Anyone with binoculars could see.

His fingers brushed the hem of my skirt, sliding it up slowly over my ass. "Look at you. Curvy little intern staying late just for me. You've been teasing me for weeks with these tight outfits."

"I wasn't…ah!" His palm cracked lightly against my ass cheek. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me jolt.

"Don't lie to me, Mia." His voice dropped, hot against my ear as he leaned over me. "You want this. I see how you look at me during meetings. How your nipples get hard when I call your name."

His hand slid between my thighs, pushing my panties aside. I was already wet. Embarrassingly so. Two thick fingers traced my folds, teasing.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he growled. "All this time pretending to be innocent. Spread your legs wider."

"Mr. Voss... please..." I whispered, but my hips pushed back against his hand anyway. The glass felt cold on my cheek. My heart raced so fast I thought I'd pass out.

"Please what?" He circled my clit with his thumb, slow and deliberate. "Please stop? Or please make this tight little pussy come?"

I bit my lip hard, trying not to moan. His fingers pushed inside me, one, then two, stretching me. He pumped them deep, curling just right against that spot that made my toes curl.

"Oh god..." I gasped.

"That's it. Let me hear you." He thrust his fingers faster, his other hand gripping my hip, holding me in place. "This report is garbage because your mind's been on my cock instead of the numbers, isn't it?"

"No…yes…fuck!" My words tumbled out as he added a third finger, filling me completely. The wet sounds filled the office. I was dripping down my thighs.

He laughed low, dark. "Good girl. So honest when you're getting finger-fucked over my desk." His pace turned punishing, thumb grinding my clit while his fingers drove in and out. "Come for me, Mia. Right now. Soak my hand while the whole city watches."

I couldn't hold back. The pressure built fast and brutal. My legs shook. "Damien…sir…I'm gonna…"

"Come."

The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I cried out, biting my arm to muffle the sound as my pussy clenched hard around his fingers. Waves crashed through me, leaving me trembling, juices running down his wrist. He didn't stop, milking every last pulse until I was whimpering, oversensitive.

He finally pulled his fingers out, bringing them to my lips. "Clean them."

I sucked them into my mouth, tasting myself, cheeks burning with shame and need. His eyes burned into mine.

"This is only the beginning, Mia," he whispered, voice rough with lust. "By Monday, you'll be begging me to ruin you completely."

My body was still shaking, aftershocks making my thighs quiver, when his phone suddenly rang on the desk. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting.

"It's my fiancée."

The words hung in the air like ice water. His fiancée. I froze, still bent over his desk, skirt around my waist, his cum-covered fingers still in my mouth.

He reached for the phone.