The conference room hums. Printer whirs in the corner, spitting out strategy sheets. Coffee scent mixes with my perfume, heavy, intoxicating. Door clicks locked. We’re deep in the ‘hunt’ – plotting to oust Concini, that power-hungry manager. CEO Louis leans back, eyes sharp. Luynes nods beside him. Sillery, my mentor, shoots me a knowing glance. Pharamond sits across, his presence electric. Our eyes lock. He saved me once, in that wild after-hours raid. His grip… I know it now.
Open-space murmurs filter through. Mouse clicks echo from outside. Tension coils like a spring. We debate: fire him outright? Louis hesitates, momager’s shadow looms. ‘Order his arrest,’ Luynes pushes. Pharamond speaks plain: ‘Wounded wolves bite back. Make it look like an accident.’ His voice, low, sends shivers. I shift in my chair, skirt riding up. Perfume thickens the air. Coffee cup trembles in my hand.
Tension Builds Behind Glass Walls
Suddenly, crisis hits. Urgent email pings – deal’s boar charging our way. I leap up, reckless. ‘I’ll spear it!’ Heart pounds. I grab the projector remote, demo the pitch wildly. Screen flashes. Chaos. Team freezes. Pharamond bolts. Grabs me rough, yanks me back. His hands on my waist, exact same hold from that masked night. The ‘black rider’ who fucked me senseless in the server room. He knows I know. Breath hot on my neck.
No time. Door rattles – someone outside. He spins me. Pins me to the table. Skirt hikes. ‘You charged like a fool,’ he growls. Fingers rip panties aside. I gasp. Printer drones on. Coffee spills, dark stain spreading. His cock thrusts in, raw, deep. No prep. Just need. Table creaks. Papers scatter. I bite my lip. Mouse clicks outside, oblivious. He pounds hard, fast. ‘Knew it was you,’ I hiss. Adrenaline surges. Legs wrap him. Wet slap of skin. Perfume and sweat mix with coffee bitterness.
Explosive Clash on the Table
He grips my throat light, like the rider. Eyes burn. ‘Hunt’s on now.’ I come first, clenching, silent scream. He follows, hot pulse inside. Pulls out quick. Zips up. I straighten skirt, smooth blouse. Wipe table with sleeve. Perfume lingers, masking the musk.
Door unlocks. Click. We sit. Louis re-enters. ‘Where were we?’ Pharamond smiles innocent. I nod, composed. Orgasm echoes in my core. But now, I’m the hunter. He’ll be mine again. Soon. Meeting drones on. Printer whirs. Coffee cools. Mask perfect.