I couldn't believe I was doing this. Standing outside his office door, my heart pounded like a drum in my chest. The plaque on the door read "Mr. Thompson," but to me, he was just Mark—my stepfather's best friend and my secret obsession. The air was thick with tension, and the faint sound of his voice from inside the room only added to my nerves.

"Come in, Emily," he called, his tone smooth as silk.

I hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open. Mark was sitting behind his desk, his eyes locked on me. His suit was impeccably tailored, and the way it hugged his broad shoulders made my mouth dry.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, close the door," he replied, his gaze never leaving mine.

I did as he said, my palms sweating. The room felt smaller suddenly, the space between us charged with an electric energy.

"I've noticed you've been distracted lately," Mark said, leaning back in his chair. "Is everything alright?"

"I... I don't know," I stammered, my eyes dropping to his lips. "Work has been stressful."

He nodded, his expression softening. "Why don't you come here and tell me about it?"

My legs moved on their own accord, carrying me to his side. He reached out and gently took my hand, his touch sending shivers up my arm.

"It's just... everything feels so overwhelming," I confessed, my voice barely a whisper.

Mark stood up, his height towering over me. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "Sometimes, all we need is a little release," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up. I turned in his arms, my hands pressing against his chest. His eyes darkened with desire, and I knew he felt it too—the forbidden thrill that crackled between us.

"Mark," I breathed, my voice trembling.

"Shh," he whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of my jaw. "Let me take care of you."

His lips crashed down on mine, his kiss hungry and demanding. I melted into him, my hands gripping his shoulders as our tongues tangled. The taste of him, the feel of his hard body against mine—it was all too much, too intoxicating.

He broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering. "You feel so good," he groaned, his hands roaming down my back.

I whimpered, my body aching for more. "Mark, we shouldn't—"

"I know," he cut me off, his voice thick with need. "But I can't stop thinking about you. About us."

His hands found the hem of my skirt, his fingers sliding up my thighs. I gasped, my head falling back as he explored my body. The sensation was overwhelming, my skin tingling where he touched.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down my neck.

I arched into him, my hands fisting in his hair. The world around us faded away, leaving only the two of us and the raw, primal need that consumed us.

"Mark," I pleaded, my voice breaking.

He lifted me onto his desk, his eyes never leaving mine. "Tell me what you want, Emily," he demanded, his voice hoarse.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. "I want you," I confessed, the words tumbling out. "All of you."

His gaze darkened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine. "Then you shall have me," he promised, his voice a low growl.

The room spun around us, the air thick with desire. I knew this was wrong, dangerous even, but in that moment, with Mark's hands on me, his lips claiming mine, I couldn't bring myself to care. All that mattered was the heat building between us, the promise of pleasure that hung heavy in the air.

As Mark's hands explored my body, his fingers finding the edge of my blouse, I gasped, the fabric yielding under his touch. His eyes locked with mine, a silent question in their depths. I nodded, my consent a mere breath. With deft movements, he unbuttoned my blouse, revealing the lace of my bra underneath. The sight of it seemed to excite him, his gaze darkening as he traced the outline of my breasts.

"You're stunning," he murmured, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

I bit my lip, my hands trembling as I reached for his belt. His eyes widened in surprise, then softened with desire as I fumbled with the buckle. With a groan, he helped me, his hands guiding mine until the belt was undone and his pants lay open, revealing the hard length of him straining against his boxers.

"Touch me," he breathed, his voice ragged.

My fingers hesitated, then brushed against the fabric, feeling the heat of him through the material. He shuddered, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as I explored him, my touch hesitant at first, then growing bolder as he encouraged me with soft moans.

"That's it," he groaned, his head falling back as I wrapped my hand around him, my fingers adjusting to his size. "God, Emily, you feel so good."

His praise fueled my confidence, and I began to stroke him, my movements slow and deliberate, watching his reactions closely. His hands moved to my hips, pulling me closer, our bodies aligned in a perfect rhythm. The air was thick with our breaths, each ragged and desperate.

"I need more," he whispered, his voice thick with need.

Without breaking our gaze, he lifted me, positioning me on the edge of the desk. His hands guided me, his urgency palpable as he pushed my panties aside and entered me in one swift motion. I cried out, the sensation overwhelming, my body adjusting to his size. He paused, giving me a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against mine.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his concern clear despite the haze of desire.

I nodded, my hands gripping his shoulders as I found my rhythm. He began to move, slow at first, then faster, our bodies merging in a dance as old as time. The sound of our flesh meeting filled the room, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Mark," I gasped, my voice breaking as the tension built within me.

He kissed me, his lips urgent, his movements synchronizing with my rising need. "Come with me," he urged, his voice a command.

I clung to him, our bodies moving as one, the world narrowing to the point of contact between us. With a final, powerful thrust, we both shattered, our release a symphony of pleasure that left us breathless and spent.

He collapsed beside me, our chests heaving as we caught our breaths. The room was silent except for our ragged breaths, the aftermath of our passion hanging heavy in the air. I turned to him, my heart still racing, and saw the same mix of satisfaction and regret in his eyes.

"We shouldn't have done that," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He nodded, his hand reaching out to stroke my hair. "No, we shouldn't have," he agreed, his voice heavy with the weight of our actions.

But as our eyes met, the truth was clear—neither of us could regret the fiery passion that had ignited between us, even if it was born from the shadows of secrecy and禁忌.