Obedience under Creel: part 2
Pairing: Boss Henry x fem!Reader
Additional Tags: Boss x assistant; prasing; no use of y/n; smut; edging; teasing; fingering; bj; rough Henry; anal;p in v; choking
Summary: You are the perfect employee till you do the wrong step and Henry has a motif to put you on the "right" path.
Notes: Hii,I am deeply sorry for making you wait an ENTIRE month for part 2. Thank you for the love you shared for the first part, Iām shocked so many read it and actually liked it. Iām sorry in advanced for mistakes or think that makes no sense, I kept coming back to it and did it after uni. Thank you so much!
Tags: @nocasdatsgay @whatsitsballad @sthefanywilson7305 @cannibalcoyote @bbgheyyyy @flowerfike
āāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāā
The moment the door clicks shut behind Henry, the reality of what just happened crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your legs feel unsteady as you adjust your dress, now hopelessly wrinkled, and smooth your hair with trembling fingers. The ghost of his touch lingers on your skin, and when you glance in the mirror hanging near the office door, you see the faint red mark blooming on your neck where his teeth had been moments ago.
āProfessionalism?ā You mumble, cheeks burning as you shuffle out into the hallway, careful to avoid any lingering glances from coworkers. The office hums with its usual midday chaos, printers whirring, hushed conversations, but every sound feels distant, muffled under the weight of what just transpired.
You slump into your chair, fingers gripping the edge of your desk until your knuckles turn white. The monitor flickers to life, emails piled up, but all you see is Henryās composed smile. The way he enjoyed playing you like you were his prey. The way his fingers dug into your hips. And the filthy promises he shamelessly made.
You try to shake the memories away, to drown yourself in work, but itās like youāre running on autopilot. Every timeyour gaze sweeps the office, your heart skips a beat, half-hoping and half-dreading to see him emerging from his office.
āāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāā
The afternoon is a blur of emails, phone calls, and mindless tasks. The office is quieter now, most of the staff having left for the day. However, you're still at your desk, trying desperately to focus. Your thoughts keep drifting back to him. His hands on your skin, his eyes on your face, his mouth at your neck.ā¦.
You lean back in your chair, running your fingers through your hair in frustration. āWhy can't I stop thinking about this?ā You wonder, your mind replaying the event like a broken record.
The clock finally ticks to 7 PM The office empties, chairs squeaking as people gather their belongings and head for the door. You glance around, most cubicles are dark now, only a few stragglers remain.
Your stomach growls, reminding you that you skipped lunch in your distracted state. But more than hunger gnawing at you is the quiet dread of seeing him again, the man who had kissed and marked you like property just hours ago.
Footsteps echo down the hall. Your breath hitches as they approach, then pass by without stopping at your desk.
The office settles into a hushed quiet, the last of the lights being switched off as employees trickle out. The hum of computers winding down is the only sound left.
You stare at your screen, your inbox empty, reports submitted hours ago. Thereās nothing left to do but leaveā¦.or wait.
But before you could think of the reason youād consider waiting Henry's office door creaks open, the soft glow of his desk lamp spilling into the darkened hallway. He steps out, still impeccably dressed in his tailored suit, tie perfectly knotted as if nothing had happened earlier.
His sharp gaze sweeps across the emptying office before landing on you. The air between you crackles with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy from this morningās encounter.
He walks toward your desk slowly, deliberately, hands tucked casually in his pockets. Here it goes.
Henry stops right in front of your desk, his polished dress shoes clicking softly against the floor.The dim lighting casts shadows across his strong jawline, and for a moment, he just studies you, your tense posture, the way your fingers grip the edge of your keyboard.
Then he leans down slightly, not enough to invade personal space yet, but close enough that you catch his expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely him.
"Still here?" His voice is low. Not cold or distant like it usually is with employeesā¦but not warm either. Just measuring. Like he's assessing how this morning affected you.
Your gaze move up to his face, taking in all his features, how unbothered he looked. Like nothing happened hours ago.
āI had to finish everything and to recover the hours from this morning.ā You keep a steady voice, trying to seem unaffected, but in reality you were dying to have him right there.
Henry's expression remains unreadable,cool, composed, the perfect picture of a CEO. But something flickers in his dark eyes as he takes in your face, your slightly parted lips.
He exhales quietly through his nose and then,to your surprise, he reaches out and straightens a stray lock of hair near your temple with two fingers. The touch is fleeting but deliberate.
"Recover hours?" he repeats dryly, arching one brow skeptically at you like that excuse was flimsy(because it obviously was).
Without another word thoughā¦he grabs the back of your chair. Henry spins your chair swiftly, turning you to face him fully. Before you can react, he braces one hand on the armrest beside your hip and eans in, close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips.
For a split second, he just looks at you, studying the flush on your cheeks, the slight tremor in your lower lip.
Then, without warning, his other hand cups the back of your neck and he crashes his mouth onto yours.
This kiss is nothing like this morningās teasing one. Itās hungry.Needy. Like he's reclaiming what was interrupted hours ago. āHe definitely thought about what happened the whole day too, and fuck, how much better it made me feel.ā you thought to yourself, your lips twitching a smile, unnoticeable to him, as you kiss him back.
Henry's kiss deepens, his fingers tightening in your hair as he angles your head for better access. The taste of him, expensive coffee and something uniquely masculine floods your senses.
He nips at your bottom lip, a sharp little bite that makes you gasp into his mouth. Then he takes advantage of the parting of lips to slide his tongue against yours, hot and demanding.
The office is dead silent now except for the quiet sounds between you the soft press of mouths, the rustle of fabric as Henry shifts closer until suddenly thereās no space left between you at all.
Henry breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your jaw, nipping lightly at your pulse point, right over the fading love bite from this morning. A low hum vibrates in his chest as he feels how fast your heart is racing.
His hands slide down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him until thereās not an inch of space left between you. The hard line of his body presses into yours, the broad chest, lean stomach, and undeniable strength coiled beneath that perfectly tailored suit.
Without a word, Henry scoops you up effortlessly from the chair, your legs instinctively wrapping around him and carries you toward his office.
Henry kicks the door to his office shut behind you, the sound echoing in the plush, dimly lit space. The air is thick with tension as he walks straight toward his massive mahogany desk, still holding you effortlessly.
In one smooth motion, he sets you down on its polished surface. Papers scatter slightly under your weight as Henry cages you between his arms again.
For a moment, he just stares at your kiss-swollen lips before claiming them once more, this time slower but no less intense. His hands roam: one slides up your thigh while the other traces your collarbone through fabric.
There's something different about this kissā¦.hungrier, more impatient than earlier.
āI need you to undress.ā His raspy voice echoes in the big room. You hesitate, just starting at him unable to move.
He looks at you, with the same seriousness in his face, and takes off the suit coat.
āIād hate myself to punish you again, sweetheart.ā Henry says noticing your hesitation.
He tosses his suit coat onto a nearby chair, the motion sharp with impatience. The way he undresses is efficient, methodicalā¦.dominant.
His hands moving with practiced efficiency as he loosens his tie, followed by his sleeves rolled up to the ellbows, revealing his strong forearms. He steps closer, placing his palms against your thighs as his voice drops to a whisper āGo ahead.ā
You can feel his gaze burning you as your fingers find the hem of the dress. You slide off the desk and you pull up your dress, slowly, trying to put on a show for him, tease him, only to meet that side of him again that makes your stomach tie in a knot.
Henry's expression darkens as you slowly lift your dress, the fabric sliding up your thighs inch by inch. His jaw tenses, he likes this. The way you're teasing him on purpose.
But instead of reacting with amusement or a smirk like most men might, his eyes turn predator.
Without warning, he steps forward and closes the distance between you. One large hand grabs your wrist, not roughly, but firmly and stops your movement mid-way up.
"Enough," he murmurs in that deep CEO voice of his before suddenly yanking the rest of the dress up over your hips himself.
You gasp at the sudden movement and flush at the feeling of his observing gaze.
āI-Iām sorry.ā you say with a shaky voice. Scared or excited? āI think the scared part is just an excuse at this point.ā You think to yourself.
He doesn't say anything yet, just takes in the sight with quiet intensity.
Then his hands move warm and calloused from years of signing documents one sliding around to grip your waist while the other traces a single fingertip along the band of your panties. His touch is slow, deliberate. Like heās memorizing every detail before acting on impulse.
The air between you crackles not with hesitation anymore, but anticipation.
He keeps his eyes locked on yours as that wandering thumb drifts lower, teasing just under the edge of your panties. His breathing is steady, betraying none of the tension in his frame, but the dilated pupils give away how affected he is.
With his other hand, he guides you backward until you're pressed against the desk again, this time he steps between your legs, forcing you to tilt your face up.
"You look gorgeous," Henry mutters suddenly, a low rumble beneath the cool exterior.
You feel your cheeks on fire as soon as his afirmation leaves his lips and exhale some air you didnāt know you were holding āThank you, sirā.
Henry's eyes flash at your response āsirā. The title he always insisted you call him at work. Hearing it now, like this, makes his grip on you tighten ever so slightly.
His head ducks lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your ear as he murmurs, "Such formal manners," he teases, voice low and rough. "Even while half-naked on my desk."
Heās trying to get you in trouble, make you believe you can call him my his name, but last time you did that he left you completely undone. You canāt risk that happening again.
You just stay silent. Obeying.
Henry grins against your skin, a sharp little flash of teeth that contradicts the mocking words. He can tell you're trying to be good for him. And it's driving him crazy.
His hand on your hip begins to move, lazily tracing circles with his thumb.
"You know, sweetheart," he murmurs, "I prefer it when you begā¦"
Here it goes again. Your heart sinking in your stomach, feeling every heartbeat, shaking almost from the need.
āPleaseā you whisper, your voice cracking at the end.
Henry hums satisfied, feeling the shiver that runs through you as he continues to mouth at your neck. You're already trembling and he hasn't even really touched you yet.
He pulls back slightly, just enough that he can look at your face. The way you're flushed and breathless already just from his touch and words, it makes something possessive burn in his chest.
"Please what?" he prompts softly, eyes glinting like he already knows the answer.
He loves seeing you humiliate yourself in front if him. So. You play his game if that gets you where you want. As usual.
āPlease, I need you to touch me.ā
He takes in your flushed cheeks, heaving chest, and pleading eyes and decides today, he'll cut you some slack. You've been very obedient today so far.
"Since you asked so nicelyā¦." he drawls, tone dripping with mockery.
He pushes your thighs open wider with his hips, the movement shifting his weight onto you. With that hand still tracing your stomach, he whispers in your ear, "Where?"
āFuckā you whisper under your breath. āJustā¦lower.ā
"Lower?" Henry echoes, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. He's enjoying this too much. But, he does as he's asked, in a way. His hand dips beneath the edge of your panties, fingers brushing your hip bone.
"Here?" he murmurs, his breath warm on your neck. His thumb circles there lightly. "Or somewhere else?"
āThis is a fucking game to himā you think to yourself scoffing holding yourself to not say something that gets him AND you unsatisfied.
Henry smirks against your skin, he can practically hear your thoughts running through your head.
He just makes a soft "hm" noise in the back of his throat, teasingly circling his hand even lower, but not low enough yet.
"Then where?" he repeats, tone dripping with mock-interest. "You're being so vague, sweetheart."
āI can show you.ā You say with some shyness in the tone.
His lips form a smirk against your pulse point. You're as eager as he is, just better at hiding it.
He pulls away from your neck, taking in your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and pleading eyes.
"Show me, then," he prompts. His thumb continues tracing your hip, not quite reaching where you want it.
With shaky hand, you wrap your fingers around his wrist moving it under the soft material of your panties, exactly where you needed him since he left the office hours ago. āHereā
Henry's breath catches as your trembling fingers guide his hand lower, right where you've clearly been aching for him. His touch lingers at first, fingertips barely grazing, just enough to make your breath hitch.
The sharp inhale from you, the way your nails dig slightly into his wrist, it makes his own pulse jump.
"There?" he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker. His fingers curl experimentally, slow, testing just how worked up you already are for him.
Then, with deliberate slowness, he drags his thumb right where you need it most, watching your face intently the entire time.
āFuckā¦.yes, there.ā You say shutting your eyes closed.
He watches the way your eyelids flutter shut, breath shuddering as he finally starts to give you the friction you need. He leans down, breath hot on your neck.
"Open your eyes, darling," he instructs softly, voice gravelly as he moves his thumb in slow, deliberate circles, "Look at me."
You do as told. The perfect assistant. Getting fingered against her bosses desk wasnāt on your to do list, but you wouldnāt mind it happening more often.
You open your eyes finding his icy blue eyes already on you.
Henry's expression is a mixture of satisfaction and hunger as you meet his gaze. He watches you intently, every hitch of breath, every flush of your cheeks, the way your eyes flutter with pleasure.
He has the control here, and he knows it. But there's something else beneath the surface, something possessive. Something that makes his fingers press a little harder, a little faster as he watches you fall apart at his touch.
"You have no idea how long I've thought about this," he murmurs, voice barely a rumble. "Having you like this."
With his fingers working faster you moan unable to say anything, just squeezing the desk with your fingers till the knuckles turn white.
The sound of your moan nearly makes Henry's self-control snap. He's trying to maintain his cool demeanor but hearing you like this, on the brink of losing it just from a few touches, it's testing his restraint.
His eyes burn into yours as his fingers continue their steady rhythm. He wants to watch you fall apart.
"That's it," he murmurs, his usually low voice now rough with barely restrained desire. "Let me see you.ā¦."
His approval was everything you needed. With a mumbled āThank youā and a choked moan you came faster than expected, surprising yourself.
Henry exhales sharply, his fingers stilling as he watches you unravel, quicker than either of you expected. He presses a slow kiss to your jawline, lips curving slightly against your skin.
"Good girl," he murmurs, the praise thick in his throat. "Always so responsive for me."
His hand lingers for a moment longer, savoring the tremors running through you, before finally withdrawing. His breathing isnāt quite as steady as before now.
"Now," he muses, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, "Letās see if we can get you to do that again before the nightās over."
Henry takes a moment to watch you recover, his eyes roaming over your flushed face, your heaving chest, and the way you're leaning bonelessly against his desk. He likes seeing you like this, disheveled and sated. It's a side of you only he gets to see.
With a quiet huff of amusement, he steps back slightly, adjusting some papers on the surface next to you as he muses aloud, "If only your coworkers could see the perfect little assistant now, undone by just a few fingers."
You watch him carefully. He looks so unaffected. But his bulge poking out of his pants prove otherwise. Before you could think too much you reply. āAnd their boss getting hard only from touching herā
Henryās expression remains perfectly controlled, except for the slight twitch of his jaw at your words. He glances down at the obvious strain against his trousers, then back up at you.
"Mmm." He smooths a hand down his tie, adjusting it purely out of habit before stepping closer again, deliberately brushing against your bare thigh. "And yet, you're the one who came apart first." His voice dips lower.A pause. Then his fingers hook under your chin, tilting your face up.
"Tell meā¦" His thumb traces your lower lip, voice dangerously soft. "How badly do you want to fix that?"
āYou have no ideaā you whisper tauntingly.
Henry's eyes darken at your whisper, his grip on your chin tightening just enough to send a thrill through you. He leans in close so close his lips almost brush yours.
"Then prove it," he murmurs, voice rough like gravel. "On your knees."
Your eyes slightly widen at the sudden command, but your knees fold and hit the ground all while watching his face.
All focus is on him, on the way his breath hitches almost imperceptibly as you look up at him.
He unbuttons his trousers with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. The zipper lowers with a quiet sound that feels too loud in the stillness.
When he finally frees himself from fabric confines, he doesn't push or rush, he simply waits. A silent challenge in his stance: Show me what you want to do.
You lean forward, your breath ghosting over his skin. It's his turn to shiver slightly as your hot breath washes over his arousal. He's already hard and wanting, a direct result of how quickly you came apart for him just moments ago.
He lets out a soft exhale of air as your fingers trail up his thigh.
"Eyes on me," he murmurs. "Look at me, darling."
He watches as your gaze locks onto his, pupils blown wide with hunger. The first touch of your lips is soft, a warm brush against the tip, before you slowly take more into your mouth, fingers tightening on his thigh.
A low groan rumbles in his chest. His hand drifts down, not forcing, just tangling gently in your hair as you set the pace.
"Damn," he breathes, head tipping back slightly before forcing himself to look at you again, the sight too intoxicating to ignore. "Just like thatā¦.."
A crease forms between the eyebrows, his lips parting slightly as subtile groans escapes them.
It might sound weird but his length is just like him, steady, presentable. Like he was sure this would happen tonight.
The hand in your hair grips tighter, not pulling but guiding, a possessive gesture that makes your stomach clench. You keep your eyes locked on him, taking every sound of breath, every subtle twitch of muscle, cataloguing them all for the memory you're making.
His taste is heady, like the subtle bite of dark chocolate, a hint of salt, and a richer, muskier note that is uniquely him. It makes you dizzy.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs, the words a low, rough rumble.
As youāre fastening your pace around him, ypu feel him tense. A shiver runs through him as you work your tongue as you take him deeper. Youāre doing exactly what he wanted and heās enjoying it.
But then he murmurs, "Stop."
What? You freeze, pulling back. You didn't do anything wrong, right?
Then you notice the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow at his brow. His breath is coming faster, his voice rougher. "Up."
He reaches down, fingers curling, gently but firmly, around your wrist as he pulls you up from the floor. His gaze dark, almost unreadable now. Thereās no smile, no teasing glint, just raw focus as he turns you towards the edge of the desk. One hand moves to the back of your bra unclamping it. The sound of the clasp slipping free seems obscenely loud in the quiet office, almost echoing around you.
Before you can move, he's behind you, his body hot against your bare back. Fingers tracing up your spine, his touch deliberate, possessive.
Without delay he presses a warm, firm palm to your bare back and pushes you forward, until you're folded over the desk with your hands braced on the wood surface. The position is slightly uncomfortable, but the excitement it ignites is much stronger than the discomfort.
The desk is cool against your hardened nipples, a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him as he steps closer, trapping you against the surface. His fingers trace up your spine again, slower this time, savoring the shiver that runs through you. His touch isn't rushed or urgent, just deliberate, confident.
His hand glides down to the small of your back, pressing you slightly lower, emphasizing your position, exposed, waiting. The air is thick with unspoken tension as he steps closer, his body heat enveloping you.
A low hum escapes him as he aligns himself against you, just teasing at first, he barest friction of skin on skin.
āYou knowā¦..I didnāt forget what you did today.ā He says as his fingers finds their way through your folds, moving them agonisingly slow. āWhat should I do about that, hm?ā Each slow pass of his fingers makes your breath hitch, every nerve ending on edge.
Before you could think of an answer, his tips of his fingers finds the ring between your cheeks, circling around it. āSince youāre deciding to stay silent, Iāve made my choice.ā his whisper echos in the room.
At the unexpected touch you freeze, breath catching in your throat. Your fingers grip the edge of the desk tighter, knuckles whitening as a mix of anticipation and nervousness floods through you.
He gives no warning, just slow, deliberate pressure as he tests your response, his voice dropping to a velvet growl. "Relax for meā¦ let me see how well you take what I give."
Yo ur voice manages to come through leaving an āOkayā in one breath.
He removes his thumb and you hear him spit in his palm spreading it onto the member. Your heart beats out of your chest when you feel the tip of it press against your tight entrance. Something never experienced before.
āYouāre going to take what I give you and stay still.ā The firm voice reverberating in the office as you only utter āYes, sir.ā
The pressure increases gradually, firm and insistent, as he pushes forward, slowly breaching you. A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the stretch, the unfamiliar fullness stealing your breath.
Henry stays motionless once seated fully, his body taut as a bowstring. One hand grips your hip hard enough to leave marks.
He remains still inside you, letting your body adjust to his size, though the air between you is anything but calm. Your fingers tightening around the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white. His breath comes in measured exhales at your ear, controlled but strained.
After a long moment, his hand slides up your spine again, fingers splayed, before curling gently into a fist against the small of your back. "Good," he murmurs, voice dark and approving. "Take it like I knew you would." Then he pulls back slightly and drives forward with slow dominance.
The thrusts are more controlled, a punishing rhythm, the burning sensation altering to something that gets you over the edge. Faster than expected. And he senses it, his movements turning more confident, deliberate, needy.
That makes the growing pit in your stomach grow stronger. āI-Iā¦ā you try to mumble but he cuts you off āFuck..I know, sweetheart, let it go for me.ā
Your body tenses around him, breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the coil inside you snaps. A choked cry escapes your lips as pleasure rips through you, hot and all-consuming.
Henry feels it instantly, the way your muscles clamp down on him and he doesnāt slow. Instead, he drives deeper, his own control unraveling with each shuddering breath you take.
Slowly coming to a stop, he pulls out making you clench around nothing and whimper at the feeling.
āGet up.ā his says more like a command than a request.
When no movement is made from you, he grabs you by the hair and pulls you up to your feet.
Your body is boneless, still trembling in the aftermath, but you manage to wobble to your feet without collapsing. You're left panting and disoriented, trying to catch your breath as he turns you around to face him.
His expression is almost unreadable again, that cool, calculated demeanor back in place. Almost like he didn't just shatter you apart mere minutes ago. Except for the way his gaze roams your disheveled state, lingering with unmistakable possessiveness.
āYou were made to be fucked like a slut, huh?ā he spits out the words. You swallow hard at that, something dark pooling deep in your gut at the way the words roll off his tongue. They're harsh, crude, and yet they make your thighs clench, a reaction that doesn't escape his notice.
"Answer me," he prompts, tone commanding and cold. "Wasn't that what your body was made for, hm?"
āI-..yes, sir.ā you tremble the words out.
āYes, sir?āThe mockery in his tone is clear and deliberate, but there's a darker edge to it now. Testing you. Pushing you to your limits.
He steps closer, eyes hardening. "I think you can do better than that, darling."
His breath hot against your face as he continues, "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you admit what you are. Because you're not my precious, perfect assistant here, are you?ā His lips form a small pout.
āIām yours to use, I belong to you.ā you admit shamelessly.
Henry's eyes darken at your confession, a flicker of triumph passing through his gaze.
His fingers tighten in your hair and pulls you over the couch and tosses you onto the couch with controlled force, your body sinking into the soft leather. Before you can adjust, heās over you kneeling between your legs, one hand braced beside your head.
His expression is unreadable but intense, eyes tracing every inch of your face as if memorizing it. The air hums with tension, thick and electric.
Before you could even process what was happening he thrusts in you in one hard stroke, filling you completely. He bends one of your legs over his still clothed shoulder.
āYouāre on contraceptives?ā his tone trembling as he sets a deep rhythm that makes your head dizzy.
You open your eyes landing on his flushed face, his glasses fogging up on the tip of his nose. āY-yes.ā you whimper the words out.
He exhales sharply at your answer, as if heād been holding his breath, and shifts slightly, driving deeper with each powerful thrust. The angle is maddening, hitting places that make your toes curl and your vision blur at the edges.
His movements are relentless but controlled, every stroke calculated to unravel you again. The sound of skin against fabric echoes in the quiet room, mingling with your shaky breaths and his low grunts.
"Good," he grits out between clenched teeth. "Because I'm not stopping this time."
āPleaseā¦donātā you manage to say for the first time without thinking too much.
The words, so simple and yet so pleasantly obedient, ignite something deep in him. He groans, a low rumble in his chest that sounds almost feral, and quickens his pace.
His eyes never leave your face, drinking in every expression, every sound you make. His hand moves to your throat, the pressure light but possessive, as if claiming you in every possible way.
"I donāt want to see Mark near you again.ā The raw possessiveness in his voice makes you shiver, and he feels it, the way your body clenches around him. It's a subtle sign, but it doesn't go unnoticed.
His grip tightens a fraction around your throat, just enough to make you keenly aware of his presence, everywhere.
"No one," he growls, "No one touches you. No one looks at you." he thrusts hard after each phrase, bringing you closer to your climax once again.
āMāyours.ā you manage to gasp out between breaths, eyes locked on his.
The words seem to snap something in him, unraveling the tight rein he's kept over his own restraint until now. He surges forward, mouth finding yours in a kiss that's more a claiming than a kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, devouring you, owning you. His grip at your neck tightens, not quite cutting off your air but hinting at its possibility, the dark thrill pooling in your gut.
āCum for me.ā he requests, mumbling against your swollen lips, twitching inside you, restraining himself for a little longer.
Your body tenses instantly at his command, the deep vibration of his voice syncing with the relentless rhythm heās set. You're right on the edge, overwhelmed by sensation, by him.
And when he shifts slightly, pressing against that perfect spot deep inside you with one firm stroke.
A silent scream parts your lips as pleasure rips through you in waves. Your back arches off the couch, fingers clawing at leather as your inner muscles spasm around him uncontrollably.
Your body trembles beneath him, still clenching around his length as the waves of your climax ripple through you. He watches utterly transfixed the way your face contorts in pure ecstasy, how your breath comes in broken gasps.
Only then does he allow himself to follow.
With a low groan torn from deep in his chest, he buries himself fully inside you and empties into you, pulse after pulse,his control finally shattered. His forehead drops to yours, both of you slick with sweat and breathing like youāve run miles.
For a long moment, neither moves. The only sound is the uneven rhythm of their breathing filling the heavy silence.
Finally, slowly, he pulls out and leans back to look at you. Your body is still trembling slightly, flushed and sensitive from your climax.
His gaze roams over you from head to toe, sharp and unblinking.
"Don't move," he whispers, and before you can even make sense of the words, he's off the couch, leaving you trembling and disoriented on the leather.
When he comes back his softened lenght is already zipped away in his suit trousers with some paper towels in his hand.
āClean yourself off.ā his demeanour remains the same as before. No playfulness. No teasing. No nothing.
You grab the paper towels and with precise movement you wipe yourself clean and toss then in the bun next to you.
Henry straightens his tie, gaze sweeping over you one last time as if ensuring everything is back in order his order.
"Get dressed," he says simply. "And go home."
He turns toward his desk, picking up a pen as though nothing happened as if the air doesnāt still hum with what you just shared.
Your head still feels fuzzy, still trying to adjust to the abrupt shift in his demeanor. One minute he was, possessive, almost feral, and the next he's back to the cool, composed CEO-version of himself, not a hint of the passionate man from minutes ago.
With shaky hands you pull your dress back on. You're used to the routine by now, the way he snaps back into work mode as though none of what happened matters.
But somehow, this time, you feel a pang of disappointment at his dismissal.
When you're fully dressed, you stand up on still-trembling legs, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress.
His back is still to you, his attention seemingly fixed on whatever paperwork is spread out on his desk. It's as though he's completely forgotten you're there, the stark contrast from the man just a few minutes ago jarring.
The silence between you stretches out, cold and almost.ā¦.lonely.
āThis-this is the first and the last time.ā you mumble.
Henry pauses mid-signing a document at your words, pen hovering above the paper. After a moment, he sets it down and turns around to face you. The expression on his face is carefully neutral now, all traces of the possessive, feral man from earlier vanished.
"Is that so?" he says, raising an eyebrow. There's a note of coldness in his voice that wasn't there before, a reminder of how quickly he can shift back into the aloof, detached CEO that you're more familiar with.
āYes.ā you reply confident.
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "And might I ask what suddenly brought about this change of heart, sweetheart?"
He takes a few steps towards you, the movement smooth and deliberate. His eyes never leave your face. "Is it the way I handle you? The way I take what I wantā¦ā¦without asking?"
His voice is still calm, the same cool, controlled tone he uses in the office. But there's a warning lurking underneath.
āNo, because this is wrong andā¦.ā you make a pause āitās just wrongā
His eyes darken a fraction at your words, the cold composure on his face slipping just barely.
"And yet," he says, stepping closer still, "Every time, you give in without a fight. You let me do whatever I want, even when you know how wrong it is. Even when you know you should be resisting."
You smile slightly, not letting him see you were bothered by his behaviour minutes ago. āI have to go now if you donāt mind. Sir.ā you reply unchallenged.
The word 'sir' sounds almost like a taunt on your tongue now, and it's not lost on him. His eyes flash with irritation.
But he doesn't comment on it. His gaze flicks over you again, taking in the sight of you standing there, slightly rumpled, hair still mussed from how he had fisted it not long ago.
"Of course," he says, his tone smooth and dismissive. "Don't let me keep you, sweetheart."
And with that, you grab your shoes that were thrown around the office, put them on and without looking around you say āHave a goodā¦night.ā leaving him puzzled behind.
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
stormborns
izzy806
germansingergirl
2087
