Under the Table

The rain hammered against the café windows like it had a personal grudge. I was already soaked, my cheap shirt clinging to my skin, when I spotted her in the corner booth. Elena. My new boss. She looked at me over the rim of her espresso cup, and I felt my throat go dry.

"You're late, Mark," she said, but there was a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She was wearing a charcoal blazer, her hair pulled back tight. Everything about her screamed control. I wanted to break it.

"Sorry, the interview ran long," I said, sliding into the booth across from her. "HR wanted to go over the contract."

"I know. I told them to." She pushed a cup of coffee toward me. "You're hired. But we need to talk about expectations."

My hand shook as I lifted the cup. She watched me, those dark eyes never blinking. The table was small, intimate. Her knee brushed mine under the table, and she didn't pull away.

"Expectations?" I managed.

"About how this works." She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "I don't do casual, Mark. If you're going to work for me, you need to understand that I take what I want. And I want you."

Her foot slid up my calf under the table. I felt my cock twitch, hardening instantly. She saw it in my eyes.

"Your place or mine?" she asked.

"Yours is closer."

She paid the bill without looking away from me. The rain had let up a little, just a drizzle now. Her apartment was three blocks away. We didn't talk. She walked ahead of me, her heels clicking on the wet pavement, her ass moving in that tight skirt. I followed like a dog.

The door clicked shut behind us, and she turned. Her hand was on my belt before I could breathe.

"Don't make me wait," she said.

I pushed her against the wall, my mouth finding hers. She tasted like coffee and something darker. Her hands worked my belt open while I fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. She laughed, low and throaty.

"Clumsy boy."

"I'm new," I said against her neck.

"Then learn fast."

She pulled me into the bedroom. Her skirt fell to the floor, and she was wearing nothing underneath. Her body was all sharp angles and soft curves, pale skin in the dim light. I wanted to devour her.

"On the bed," she said.

I went. She climbed over me, straddling my hips. Her pussy was already wet, hot against my cock. She reached down and guided me inside her, a slow, deliberate push.

"Fuck," I groaned.

"Not yet." She started moving, a slow grind that made my toes curl. Her hands were on my chest, her nails digging in. "Look at me."

I did. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted. She rode me like she owned me, and maybe she did. Each downward stroke sent a jolt through my entire body.

"Harder," she said.

I grabbed her hips and thrust up into her. She gasped, her rhythm faltering. Then she found it again, matching my pace. The bed creaked. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps.

"Don't come yet," she said, her voice tight.

"Too late."

I felt the heat building, unstoppable. I tried to hold back, but she was clenching around me, her body demanding. I came with a groan that turned into a curse, spilling into her. She followed a second later, her nails raking my chest as she shuddered.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of our breathing.

She collapsed onto my chest, her hair tickling my chin. I wrapped my arms around her.

"So," I said, "is this part of the onboarding process?"

She laughed, a soft sound against my skin. "Only for special candidates."

"Good. Because I think I'm going to like working for you."

She lifted her head and looked at me, that same smile on her lips. "You'd better. I'm a very demanding boss."

I kissed her forehead. "I'm counting on it."