Focus

I shouldn't be here. That’s the first thing that screams through my head as I push open the heavy glass door of Varga Studios. The air inside is cool and smells of ozone and fresh paint, a stark contrast to the sticky summer heat outside. My new boss, Elena Varga, is already waiting, a silhouette against the bright lights of the main studio. She’s exactly what I imagined from her voice on the phone—sharp, put-together, and radiating an authority that makes my stomach tighten.

“You’re Leo,” she says, not a question. She’s wearing a simple black sheath dress that hugs every curve, and her dark hair is pulled back so severely it makes her cheekbones look like they could cut glass. She doesn’t smile.

“Yes, ma’am. The new assistant.”

“I know what you are.” She gestures for me to follow her into the back. “We have a shoot in thirty minutes. I need you to set up the softbox in the corner and check the aperture settings on the second camera. Can you do that without me having to repeat myself?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I get to work, but I can feel her eyes on me the whole time. It’s not just a boss watching an employee. It’s a predator sizing up its prey. When I bend down to adjust a cable, I catch her scent—something floral and sharp, like night-blooming jasmine. My cock stirs in my jeans, and I have to focus hard on the equipment to stop myself from looking at her.

She walks over as I’m checking the lens, her heels clicking on the polished concrete floor. She stops so close I can feel the warmth of her body. “You’re nervous,” she says, her voice low. It’s not a question.

“First day,” I manage.

“Look at me.”

I straighten up and meet her gaze. Her eyes are a deep, dark brown, almost black, and there’s a fire in them that has nothing to do with anger. She reaches out and adjusts the collar of my shirt, her fingers brushing against my neck. The touch is electric, and I know she feels the jolt because a slow, dangerous smile spreads across her lips.

“You’re going to do more than set up lights, Leo,” she murmurs, her fingers trailing down my chest, stopping at my belt. “I didn’t hire you for your technical skills. I hired you because you have a look I need. A raw, hungry look. And right now… you’re looking at me like you want to devour me.”

My throat is dry. “I… I do.”

“Good.” She steps back, but the command in her voice is unmistakable. “Lock the door.”

I do it without thinking. When I turn back, she’s unzipping her dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of black silk. She’s wearing nothing underneath. Her body is a work of art—full breasts with dark nipples already hard, a flat stomach, and a thatch of dark hair between her thighs that makes my mouth water. She’s not shy. She stands there, hands on her hips, letting me look.

“Touch me,” she orders. “Slowly. I want to see what your hands can do.”

I walk to her, my heart hammering in my chest. My hands are shaking as I reach out and cup her breasts, feeling their weight, the pebbled texture of her nipples. She lets out a soft sigh, her head tilting back. I roll her nipples between my fingers, and she gasps, pressing her body into mine.

“That’s it,” she breathes. “Don’t be gentle. I’m not made of glass.”

I slide my hands down her sides, over the curve of her hips, and then around to her ass. I squeeze, hard, and she lets out a guttural moan. Her skin is hot, smooth as silk. I kneel in front of her, my hands on her thighs, spreading them apart. Her pussy is glistening, wet and swollen. I look up at her, asking permission without words.

She nods, her eyes dark and hooded. “Make me feel it.”

I lean in and press my mouth to her, my tongue sliding through her slick folds. She tastes incredible—musky and sweet. She bucks against my face, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I lap at her clit, circling it with my tongue until she’s trembling.

“Fuck, yes,” she hisses. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

I don’t. I devour her, sucking her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue until her thighs are shaking and she’s crying out. Her orgasm hits her like a wave, and she comes hard, flooding my mouth with her juices. She pulls my hair, almost painfully, riding out the spasms.

When she finally catches her breath, she pushes me back. “Stand up.”

I do. She reaches for my belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. She pulls my jeans down, and my cock springs free, hard and aching. She wraps her fingers around the base and strokes me, slow and deliberate.

“You’re big,” she says, a hint of appraisal in her voice. “Let’s see if you know how to use it.”

She leads me to the set, a massive white backdrop, and pushes me down onto a padded stool. She straddles me, her knees on either side of my hips, and sinks down onto my cock without any hesitation. She’s so wet, so tight, and the feeling of her hot cunt enveloping me makes me groan.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, gripping her hips.

She starts to ride me, slow and deep at first, letting me feel every inch of her. Her head falls back, her tits bouncing with the rhythm. I reach up and grab them, squeezing hard, and she moans, picking up the pace.

“Look at me,” she commands, her eyes locking onto mine. “I want you to see what you’re doing to me.”

I watch her—her face flushed with pleasure, her lips parted, sweat beading on her forehead. She’s no longer the ice queen. She’s a woman completely lost in the moment, fucking me with a raw, desperate hunger.

“Harder,” I grunt, gripping her ass and guiding her faster. “Don’t hold back.”

She doesn’t. She slams down onto me, her hips moving in a frantic rhythm. The sound of our bodies slapping together fills the studio. I can feel my orgasm building, coiling hot and tight in my gut.

“I’m close,” I warn her.

“Not yet,” she says, her voice a low growl. She stops moving, and I want to scream. She leans forward, her lips brushing my ear. “I want you to take me from behind. I want to feel you fuck me like you mean it.”

She gets off me, bending over a nearby equipment case, her hands flat on the surface. Her ass is perfect, round and pale, and she looks back at me over her shoulder, a challenge in her eyes.

“Do it,” she whispers.

I position myself behind her, my cock sliding against her slick pussy. I enter her in one smooth thrust, and she cries out, her back arching. I fuck her hard, pounding into her, my hands gripping her hips so tight I know I’ll leave marks. She’s pushing back against me, meeting every thrust.

“Fuck, yes! Don’t you dare slow down!” she screams.

I reach around and find her clit, rubbing it in circles as I continue to fuck her. She’s shuddering, her moans turning into incoherent pleas. I can feel her tightening around me, her second orgasm building.

“Come with me,” I grunt, my own release so close.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she cries.

We fall over the edge together. She clenches around me, and I feel her climax wash over her as I pour my cum deep inside her, my own body shaking with the force of it. We collapse, her body sliding down onto the floor, and I follow, landing beside her.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of our ragged breathing and the hum of the studio lights. She reaches out and touches my cheek, her fingers soft.

“That was… unexpected,” she says, a hint of a smile on her lips. “But I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

I laugh, breathless. “I think I will too.”

She sits up, looking around the studio, then back at me. “We have a shoot in five minutes,” she says, her boss voice returning. “But first… I think we need to reshoot the lighting tests.”