It started with staying late to help with "work." My boss was always so complimentary—how hard I worked, how good I looked... especially in my pencil skirts. At first, I thought it was just harmless flirting, but then one late night, while I was leaning over his desk to hand him a file, he pulled me into his lap and kissed me.

That kiss turned into me straddling him right there in his office, riding him like I wanted to seal my next promotion. His deep growls and the way his hands gripped my hips—god, I’ll never forget it. From that night on, "late nights at the office" became a regular thing.

He bought me gifts: designer shoes, expensive lingerie he insisted I wear under my work clothes. And let me tell you, the thrill of him bending me over his desk while someone knocked on the door? Absolutely electric.

Even when he wasn’t fucking me in the office, he’d leave little notes like "Can't wait to taste you again tonight" under my coffee mug. To this day, my coworkers have no idea what was really keeping me at work so late.