She gasped as he backed her against the edge of his desk, the polished wood cool against the backs of her thighs where her dress had ridden up. The lamp on the corner rattled slightly, books shifting as he pressed closer, his breath hot against her neck.
His hands roamed greedily over her body, finding every curve he'd missed — his touch rougher than with his bride, fueled by something darker, older. There was no tenderness here, only heat — the reckless thrill of being somewhere they shouldn't be.
"You're still mine," he growled into her ear, his fingers tugging down the bodice of her dress until her breasts spilled free. He lowered his head, taking a nipple between his teeth, his tongue circling until she whimpered and arched against him.
"Say it," he demanded, his voice a ragged whisper as his hand slid up her thigh, pushing the fabric higher. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," she gasped, her nails scraping down his back, her hips rolling helplessly toward his hand. "Always yours."
He didn't waste time — he was already hard, the ache of needing her too sharp to ignore. He fumbled at his trousers, freeing himself as she hitched one leg around his waist. Her heat met him instantly, wet and eager, and he groaned against her neck when he pushed inside with one hard thrust.
The desk creaked beneath them as he drove into her, their bodies slamming together in quick, hungry rhythm. Each movement was rougher than the last — his fingers digging into her hips to hold her in place as he took what he wanted. Her soft moans and gasps filled the office, echoing off the shelves of books and dark wood paneling.
He caught her mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing her cries as she clenched around him, her legs trembling. The forbidden taste of her made his blood roar — this woman who should have felt like a sin but tasted so much like home.
She broke the kiss to pant his name, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered all the filthy things he'd taught her to say. It drove him over the edge — he buried himself deep, one final thrust making her cry out, her body tightening around him as they both shuddered through it together.
For a heartbeat, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the faint rustle of papers knocked askew on the desk. He stayed inside her, his forehead pressed to hers, the taste of their shared lust still thick on his tongue.
When he finally pulled back, she slid off the desk, smoothing her dress back into place with shaky hands. He watched her, his eyes dark with a hunger that would never quite die — no matter who he shared his bed with at home.
He reached for her chin, tilting her face up to his. "Next time," he murmured, his thumb brushing her swollen bottom lip, "you won't have to wait so long."
She smiled — sly, wicked — and slipped past him toward the door, leaving the scent of her skin and the memory of her body lingering in the shadows of his office. He watched her go, already craving the next stolen moment.
Uncle Richard walked into the office, a warm smile on his face. Julian, still standing after Sophia's departure, turned to face him.
"Uncle Richard, it's great to see you," Julian said, a hint of relief in his voice.
Uncle Richard's eyes twinkled with warmth. "Julian, my boy, I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Julian shook his head. "Not at all, Uncle. Just a... business matter."
Uncle Richard's expression turned serious. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something, Julian. Something important."
" why don't you give up the company to me, since you are not ready to produce and heir?"
Julian's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by Uncle Richard's suggestion. "Give the company to you?" he repeated, trying to process the idea.
Uncle Richard nodded, a determined look on his face. "Yes, Julian. I've been with the company for years, and I know its ins and outs. I've always been loyal and dedicated. I think I could take it to new heights."
Julian's mind was racing. He had never considered giving up the company, but Uncle Richard's words struck a chord. He thought about his marriage, his lack of an heir, and the future of the company.
"What makes you think I'm considering giving up the company?" Julian asked, his curiosity piqued.
Uncle Richard leaned forward, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "I've seen the way you've been handling things, Julian. You're distracted, and the company needs someone who can devote themselves fully to its success."
Julian's face darkened, his eyes flashing with determination. "You think I'd just hand over the company to you?" he spat, his voice low and menacing.
Uncle Richard's laughter echoed through the room, a cold, mocking sound. "Oh, Julian, you're so predictable," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "You think you can take on me? I've been in this business longer than you've been alive."
Julian's jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. "I'll fight you to my last breath," he growled, his voice dripping with venom. "This company is mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep it."
The air was thick with tension as the two men locked eyes, the silence between them heavy with unspoken threats and unresolved conflicts.