The office was silent past nine, no phones ringing, no footsteps echoing, just a heavy stillness. I sat at my desk outside Callahan’s office, screen light glowing on my fingers, hovering over the keys. Name’s Aiko, been his secretary for two years, keeping Callahan & Pierce running smooth. He’s the CEO, thirty-eight, built strong, dark hair with silver streaks, hazel eyes that cut through you when he stares. We’ve played this flirty game forever, teasing words, sly looks, but it never crossed a line. Until tonight, when the air thickened.

I smoothed my skirt, a tight black number hugging my hips, flaring just enough to tease. My blouse, cream silk, hung open low, showing the pink lace of my bra like a quiet dare. People say my body’s a magnet, full breasts pushing the fabric, a firm backside from hard work, legs long in heels. I dress to feel alive, feminine, a bit bold, and in this stiff law firm, it’s my way of bending rules. Tonight, I’d added stockings, garters hidden beneath, a secret that warmed me as I moved earlier, heels clicking on the hardwood.

Callahan had been a storm all day, unraveling after a tech mogul ditched us with his millions and a smirk. He’d snapped at a paralegal that morning, voice slicing through the bullpen, and the tension lingered. We’d just come from a client dinner, wine flowing easy, and now he’d dragged me back to “fix the mess.” I tried to be perfect, but I faltered. Forgot a vital email, and the other side called, gloating. His silence after was icy.

“Aiko,” he growled from behind his door. “Get in here. Shut it tight.”

I stepped in, heart racing, the door clicking closed with weight. The room smelled of leather and his cologne, a woody scent that always stirred me. He leaned on his desk, arms crossed, tie loose, showing that neck I couldn’t ignore. Blinds were down, sealing us in a dim space. I held my notepad, feeling small even in heels, nerves twisting under his stare.

“I messed up that email,” I said, voice soft and unsteady. “I’ll fix it.”

He didn’t respond, just watched, eyes tracing my blouse, the way it parted to hint at my chest. I shifted, skirt riding up a bit, and his jaw tightened. He stepped closer, heat radiating, breath brushing my face.

“You’ve been off, Aiko,” he said, tone firm but edged with something heavy. “What’s in that head of yours?”

I blushed, recalling last week. Late night, wine between us, and I’d let it slip.

“I dream about guys just taking me,” I’d giggled then, tipsy. “Using me like a doll. Silly fantasy, not real.”

His eyes had darkened that night, but he’d just smirked.

“Interesting,” he’d said back then.

Now that look was back, and I swallowed.

“Didn’t mean to let you down,” I said, voice low. “I can make it right.”

He tilted his head, sizing me up.

“How?” he asked.

I hesitated, words tumbling out.

“Anything you want, boss,” I said.

Then, meeting his gaze, I added, “Maybe something… special?”

I flashed a shaky grin, falling into our old flirtation. He closed in, chest brushing mine, and I sucked in air.

“Anything,” he echoed, voice low and sharp.

His hands moved, fingers grazing my blouse buttons, slow, testing me. I froze, heart pounding, thoughts swirling, but his touch sent heat pooling low. I stepped back, but the desk stopped me, my breath catching. He popped a button, then another, cool air hitting my skin as the silk split. I gasped, hands twitching toward his wrists, not stopping, just resting there. He grabbed my wrists, pinned them briefly, then let go to tug the blouse off. My bra shone, pink lace tight over my tits, and he stared, a low sound in his throat.

He snapped my bra off, and it fell. My tits bounced out, full and heavy, nipples stiffening, and he grabbed them, hands rough. I squirmed, mind reeling, but my body leaned into his grip, breath hitching.

“You love this, don’t you?” he said, thumbs brushing my nipples till I whined.

I couldn’t answer, caught between shock and that old fantasy flickering alive. He pushed me back on the desk, hands squeezing my tits. I bit my lip, gripping his tie, tugging it loose, caught in the moment. Blinds down, door locked, but the chance of noise slipping out tightened my chest.

He flipped me, bending me over the desk, skirt hiked up, revealing my thong and garters. I gripped the edge, breathing fast, as he pressed against me, hard through his pants.

“You messed up my day, Aiko,” he said, breath hot on my ear. “Now it’s my turn.”

That fantasy echoed in my head, and I didn’t pull away. I arched slightly, caught in the rush. He ripped my thong down, tearing it, and unzipped, the sound sharp. Hands on my hips, he pushed in, cock thick, filling me fast. Heat surged, my body stretching as I gasped, tits pressed against the desk.

He thrust hard, desk rattling, my breath lost in the rhythm. I rocked back once, feeling him deeper, a jolt sparking through me. He pulled me up, sat in his chair, and guided me to straddle him, legs wide. My tits bounced, and he grabbed them, squeezing, tongue grazing a nipple, then teeth nipping lightly. I grabbed his hair, holding him there, a moan slipping out.

“Let’s make it real,” he said, voice dark.

He yanked the blinds open. Light poured in, and outside, Tom and Greg stared, eyes wide as they saw me, spread and taken. Shame flared, hands twitching to cover, but he held me, moving inside me as they watched. I froze, then lifted my chin, caught in a strange rush.

He kicked the door open.

“Come in, boys,” he called.

They swaggered in, grins spreading. Tom stepped to my side, hands on my tits, kneading them hard from the left, then slapping them lightly, making them bounce. I brushed his arm, guiding him briefly before he took over. Callahan kept me bent over the desk, driving in deep. Greg moved to the desk’s edge, pressing his cock to my lips, gripping my hair. I tilted my head, letting him in, throat tightening as he pushed.

It shifted, that fantasy unfolding, me at the center. Callahan moved relentlessly, hands on my hips. Greg slid deeper, and I adjusted, taking him in. Tom’s hands roamed my tits, kneading and slapping, sending sparks through me. I arched into it, caught in the heat, their focus all on me.

They switched, pulling me into it. Greg sat in the chair, guiding me to straddle him, cock slipping into my cunt, hands on my tits. Callahan stood beside us, pressing his cock to my mouth, and I parted my lips, letting him thrust. Tom waited, then lifted my hips slightly, easing into my ass from behind as I leaned forward, all three syncing up.

I felt stretched, every inch alive, their hands and bodies locked on me. Pleasure built, sharp and wild, my breath ragged, hips shifting slightly with them.

They slowed, breathing heavy, ready to end it. Callahan pulled out, jerked off over me, cum hitting my face, hot and thick.

“Wrap it up,” he said, voice flat.

Tom and Greg eased me to the floor, unloading on my face, my tits, till I was a trembling mess, sweat and cum dripping, chest heaving. I wiped my lips, tasting them, a small move in the haze.

They walked out, leaving me there, a wild blur fading. I sat up, body aching, mind tangled. It had happened, raw and real, and as I wiped my face, a shadow lingered in the door. Tom’s outline stood there, breathing loud, hinting at more.