Page 5 of His Demands

My thoughts are mine and mine alone, no matter how wrong or dirty or decadent they may be.

I turn the water off and pat myself dry with a towel and head to my couch. Once I’m settled, I go back to where I left things off, feeling my clit swollen with unkempt desire.

As my fingers work their magic, my thoughts take an unexpected turn.

Fantasizing about Ivan should be off-limits, a line I don't cross. But as the warmth of my throw blanket blends with the rhythm of my fingers teasing my clit, the fantasy takes on a life of its own.

I close my eyes, letting my mind wander back to Ivan, his brooding gaze and chiseled features the perfect material for a harmless fantasy.

Ivan's stern face softens, his eyes revealing a depth I've never seen. His voice, usually sharp with demands, whispers kinky little secrets in my ears, and his touch, so often imagined as brusque, becomes tender and exploratory.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, my body responding to the fantasy despite my brain's protests. It's like I'm on autopilot, caught up in a current too strong to fight against.

Ivan Stepanov, my horrible boss, the man who drives me up the wall, is now the star of my most intimate moment.

As my fingers continue their work of spectacular precision, I think that maybe there's more to my frustration than meets the eye. Could it be that beneath the layers of professional annoyance and irritation, there's a flicker of something else? Something more personal?

I shake my head, trying to clear it of such forbidden thoughts. But as I sink deeper into the sofa, the lines between reality and fantasy blur. For now, in the safety of my inner sanctuary, I'll let the fantasy run its course. Tomorrow, back in the real world, I'll deal with the consequences.

I imagine him rising from his desk, those coffee-dark eyes on mine. He strides over to me, undoing the Windsor knot of his tie. He knows what he wants, and just like anything else in this world, he’s not afraid to take it.

He places his hands on my hips, squeezing my curves through the fabric of my skirt. Tingles rush through me, starting between my legs and spreading to every corner of my body. He leans in and kisses me, not giving a damn about propriety.

I resist a bit at first, wondering if giving myself over and letting him take me is right. But the longer I kiss him, the more his tongue probes my mouth, his musky taste filling me, the more I know it is.

I pull off his tie as he unfastens the buttons of my work blouse. The office air is cool against my skin, but his hands are soon all over my body, his touch surprisingly rough given his line of work. We continue to kiss, Ivan stripping me down until I’m in nothing but my work heels, bra, and panties.

With one more of his trademark glares, this one smoldering with sexual intensity, he wraps his arm around my waist and guides me over to the desk. He’s just as commanding with intimate matters as he is with work.

Once I’m at the desk, he steps behind me, putting one hand on my upper back and bending me over. Back in the real world, I slip two fingers inside myself, burning with anticipation. What I wouldn’t give to have him stretching me like this.

“Oh, yes!” I hiss as the orgasm blows through me, my pussy clenched and rippling delightedly. “IVAN, YES!” I cry out, moaning as I ride the wave and finger-fuck myself into sheer madness.

I say his name, over and over, as my body bucks and shudders.

It takes a while for me to come down from these clouds of my own making.

My cheeks burn.

I need some wine. This feeling, a mixture of guilt and awkwardness melting into the sweetest afterglow of a particularly intense orgasm—I’ve never experienced it before.

It’s hard to get up. My thighs feel like jelly. I’m just about ready to stand on my own two feet again when the doorbell rings.

“What the…” I’m not expecting anybody. Nevertheless, the second ring has me jumping up and tiptoeing over to the door so I can peek through the peephole.

Holy shit!

Ivan is outside my door.

My heart skips a few beats. My blood freezes and boils at the same time, otherwise I can’t explain this sudden lightheadedness that’s come over me.

Yet my hands react before my brain can stop it. I grab my robe, quickly put it on, then open the door, staring at Ivan in sheer disbelief.

“Um, hello?”

He stills at the sight of me.

My hair is a half-wet mess and my silk lace robe hugs my generous curves in all the right places.

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