Mitchell’s question hung in the air, thick as the humidity in my cubicle. The clock in the corner of my screen changed to 7:43 AM. Almost eight hours had passed since Mitchell messaged me. Was this stupid? He was my boss and had the eye of all the women on my floor. After six months in the office, he was a constant temptation, and our flirting did not make it easier.

I let out a sigh, opened my eyes, and gazed at my online calendar. “Fucking August.” It was a taunting reminder of the unrelenting heat wave that refused to move past the city. Our floor’s useless air-conditioning unit had long ago given up its fight against the temperature, while Maintenance remained ignorant or indifferent to its failure, despite our complaints and emails. The back of my blouse clung uncomfortably to my sweat-soaked skin, as if daring me to endure just a little bit more torture before giving in to the stuffy atmosphere.

Mitchell's office was a different story. It was a corner-walled-in office filled by a vintage oak desk strewn with individual pages and piles of paper. His walls offered shade and coolness compared to the rest of the floor, glinting through the floor-to-ceiling windows like a field of reflected steel and glass diamonds. The air forced in from a separate unit kept his office cool all summer.

As Mitchell leaned back in his chair, his fingers drummed against the desk, slightly off his keyboard, and his eyes focused on me. I hadn’t replied last night and now felt his gaze, sharp, assessing, and anticipating.

As I considered this, an email arrived from the anonymous account he was using to message me. I squirmed in my seat, my skirt sticking to my legs. I tried to focus on the appointments in my calendar but quickly lost out and opened the message. “What do you say to my proposal?” He wanted me to go to a wedding with him, and the use of “proposal” felt awkward. But I knew what he really wanted. And God help me, I wanted it too.

I took a deep breath, then tapped away on the keyboard. “I don't know. It's just... it's a bit ‘sudden,’ isn't it? It's a wedding. People will talk.” I hit send. Mitchell's eyes looked immediately at his phone as it buzzed. He grinned, showing off those goddamn dimples again. His thumbs tapped on the phone. Mitchell hesitated and stared at it. He tucked his phone into a front pocket, stood, and left his office, heading for the floor’s restroom.

Ding. I had an email. “Sudden?” He repeated in his reply, “Chloe, we've been dancing around this for months. You can't tell me you haven't noticed.”

I glanced around the office. The cubicles remained empty, waiting for their occupants to arrive. I looked back to my screen, reading his words again. “We've been dancing around this for months.” It was true. This was the natural result of all the late-night messages that began under the pretense of discussing work, the lingering looks during meetings, and the casual touches that were much more than casual.

“Noticed? Of course I've noticed. How could I not? But noticing and acting on it are two different things.” I erased it, typed another, “But you’re my boss,” then erased it, too. What was I doing? This could ruin my career and complicate everything. Yet, there was something exhilarating about the potential recklessness of it all. And damned if it didn’t make me a bit wet.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw him exit the restroom. He glanced at his phone, returned it to his pocket, and headed my way. His broad shoulders filled out a crisp, starched buttondown. I could see the outline of his arms through the fabric. I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly wanting the cup of coffee I hadn’t yet poured.

He stopped at my desk. “Chloe,” he said, “I know you've noticed. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. And I've noticed you, too. Every curve, every inch of your skin, the way you smile on with the left side of your lips when you glance into my office. Tell me I’m wrong.” His eyes roamed over me and lingered at my chest. I knew there were beads of sweat forming between them, and I was breathing much too hard.

“Mitchell, I don't know what to say.”

“Say yes, Chloe. Say you'll come with me. And just to be clear, when I say 'come,' I don't just mean to the wedding.”

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” I whispered, partly to myself, partly to him. But, I was already reaching up, my fingers sliding across the soft fabric of his shirt as my head slowly began to nod.

*********************************************************

I knew Mitchell was looking at my legs, maybe even imagining them spread open for him. As I turned to look, his eyes were indeed focused there, but they flicked up to meet mine, a large smirk forming.

“That dress, those legs? You're playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like the heat,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently take me by the hand. His thumb traced up my wrist, and it thrilled my entire body. His grip tightened, and he pulled me closer.

“Is that so? Let's dance.”

I didn’t know anyone at the wedding, and I certainly didn’t know anyone at the reception, but the food was above average, and the open bar was better. Feeling comfortable among these strangers, I rose and laced my fingers with his. The warmth and dryness of his palm against mine sent a comforting sensation through my body. He guided me to the dance floor, his thumb continuously tracing across mine.

The band played a slow, sultry jazz number that drew us together. I seemed to recognize it, but I couldn’t place the title without lyrics. The saxophone cried a seductive melody while the drums beat a steady, pulsing rhythm. Every note vibrated with hunger.

Our bodies were pressed together. I felt every line of him, his cock already stiffening against my belly. I exhaled deeply into his chest, letting the hardness glide against me.

“See what you do to me?” His lips lingered close to my ear. “You make me crazy,” he breathed, nipping at my earlobe before pulling back.

Discretely, his hands explored my body, tracing the curve of my hips and the dip of my waist before carefully sliding up to cup my breasts. I moved into his touch as his thumbs tried to brush against my nipples through the thin fabric of my dress and the thickness of my strapless bra.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice ragged. “You're killing me.”

His hands moved back down, gripping my hips and pulling me back to his body. I pushed my hips into his body and felt the length of his erection. My fingers dug into his shoulders as I clutched at him, trying to get closer, to feel more of him. He carefully placed his leg between mine and I rotated my womanhood down onto his thigh.

“Mitchell,” I said into his ear. “We...we shouldn't.”

“Fuck that.” His lips found mine, and his tongue pushed into my mouth, dominating and demanding, until I gave in. He tasted like champagne and white wedding cake, and I wanted more. I deepened the kiss, my tongue tangling with his as my teeth nipped at his lower lip. He sucked air in through his teeth, and his hands squeezed my ass, grinding me down and against him. I could feel the heat between my legs and my panties growing damp.

I gasped and pulled away from him. “Mitchell, no. Not here.”

He looked around, then nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed my hand and led me off the dance floor, weaving through the crowd.

We raced from the reception, Mitchell's hand still gripping mine, his long strides forcing me to almost run to keep up. The night air hit me and hung heavy. My dress felt hot, clinging, and restraining as we moved across the blacktop. He fumbled with the key fob as he unlocked his sleek black convertible. Mitchell opened the passenger side door before he jogged around to the driver's side. I climbed in and buckled my seat belt as he started the car.

“Top down?”

I nodded. “Mine or the car’s?”

He smiled and pressed a button, so the roof folded into a recess behind the back seat, and the night air rushed over us like a blanket. Then he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the dark streets.

My hair was beginning to come undone, and strays whipped across my face. I turned to look at Mitchell, admiring how the rush of air merely swept his cross-cropped hair back. He shifted in his seat, adjusting the bulge between his legs. I felt a restless energy pulsing through both of us, one so heavy the warm night air that flowed over us could not move away.

I leaned in close, resting my chin on Mitchell’s shoulder. After a moment, I asked, “What are you thinking about?” I had to make my voice louder so I could be heard over the heated gusts that swirled around us.

“I’m thinking about how I’ve always thought you were beautiful at work. Seeing you now, though, in that dress; you’re downright sexy,” he said. “And I’m wondering how serious you were about seeing your top down.”

I nodded, my head still against his shoulder. I wanted him. God, did I want him.

“Mitchell,” I said into his ear, my voice barely audible over the wind rushing past us. “What if I give you something special instead?”

His eyes flashed with surprise and desire, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. The outline of his cock strained against his pants, and my pussy throbbed in response.

“Something special, huh? What did you have in mind?”

I reached down, my fingers tracing the hem of my dress, slowly inching it up my thighs. Mitchell's eyes flicked to my legs, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. I inched my dress up further, revealing the lace edge of my panties. Mitchell's breath hitched, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“I like where this is going. Is this my surprise?”

I didn't answer; instead, I reached over, my fingers finding the zipper of his slacks, and pulled it down, revealing the ocean blue boxer briefs beneath. Mitchell's cock was straining against the fabric, a damp navy spot visible at the tip.

“You don't have to do this.”

But I wanted to. I wanted to taste him, to feel him in my mouth. I wanted to hear him lose control, to watch him unravel as his knuckles burned white, gripping the steering wheel. I wanted to give him something special, something he wouldn't forget.

My fingers continued their descent until the zipper was fully down. I pinched the skin of his neck between my lips, leaving a pink trace of lipstick behind. I reached inside his pants. Mitchell's breath hitched, his ass shifting in the seat as my fingers brushed against his hot, hard length. Even in the humid night, I could feel the heat of his velvet-soft skin stretched tight. Unleashing him from his boxers, the warm wind surged over his cock, bare and throbbing in my hand. I looked up at him, our eyes locking, and I saw the raw aching in his gaze. It fueled my own as my pussy ached and my heart pounded.

“Fucking hell. You don't know what you're doing to me.”

Again, I stayed quiet. Instead, I leaned into his lap and flicked my tongue out to taste the bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip of his cock. His hips bucked, and I heard a guttural moan as I swirled my tongue around the head, savoring his salty, musky flavor.

“Jesus Christ, Chloe,” he hissed, his fingers tangling in my hair, guiding me down onto his length.

I took him between my lips inch by inch, feeling him stretch my lips and bump against the back of my mouth. Dipping a hand into the opening of his pants, I cupped his balls, letting them roll in my hand. He had manscaped, and they were smooth and cool. I relaxed, taking him deeper. My tongue swirled around the underside of his cock, and I felt his vein pulse with his heartbeat. I could taste him, briny and sweet. I could feel the heat of him, and I wanted more.

I began to move my mouth over him. My head swayed gently, bobbing up and down in a rhythm that matched the urging of his pelvis, barely pumping into my mouth. Simultaneously, my left hand moved with my mouth, twisting and pumping to his rhythm, while my right coddled his delicate jewels. His grip on my hair tightened as his movements grew. I could feel all of him, hot and heavy, pressing against my face as he fucked my mouth with a growing urgency.

His cock hit the back of my throat again and again, and I gagged, saliva dripping down my chin, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I wanted to see him lose control, to hear him beg for release.

“Oh, God. Yes,” he said. His grip on my hair became almost painful as more strands fell loose and flicked against my face. “Oh, damn. You feel so good.”

The low humming sounds forming in the back of my mouth soon turned into moans, reverberating along and around his cock. He inhaled deeply, and I felt the car accelerate. I moved faster, my hand and mouth working in perfect sync. My head bobbed up and down as I took him deeper with each thrust. I gently squeezed his swollen balls, playfully trying to milk the cum from them. His cock was lubricated by the mixture of his pre-cum and my saliva, and it puddled at the base of his dick.

The aching built between my legs, my clit throbbing with each movement, each sound he made. The car filled with whooshing sounds as we raced down the road, but I focused on the wet, sloppy noises of my mouth and hand sliding up and down his hardness. My hand followed my mouth, stroking and twisting in time with the thrusts of his hips.

Suddenly, the car lurched as Mitchell hit the gas erratically, overtaking a semi-truck ahead of us. As we pulled alongside, the driver honked his horn, a loud, blaring sound that cut through the night. I froze as I realized what he was seeing—me, on my knees in the passenger seat, my mouth full of Mitchell's cock.

I could only imagine what the truck driver thought. Mitchell didn't seem to care, and at that point, neither did I. The driver was welcome to stare at my ass in the air or the back of my bobbing head. The pulsing cock in my mouth told me Mitchell enjoyed it. He honked back, a weak and high note compared to the semi’s.

Mitchell increased the grip on my head, painfully tight. “Yes, so close,” he said, forcing his cock deeper into my throat. “Take it. Take it all.”

I gagged, my eyes watering, but I did as he said, relaxing my throat as I took him deeper, until my nose pressed deep into his pants. He pulsed and throbbed. I sucked hard, my cheeks hollowing out, my tongue swirling around his underside. Mitchell pushed against the steering wheel, burying himself deep into the back of his seat as he pumped wildly between my lips.

I felt his cock swelling, the head filling the back of my mouth, and I knew he was close. I wanted him to come undone in my mouth. A deep breath, and I took him from tip to base, slowly, all the way down. I braced myself as the head of his cock hit the back of my throat.

I sucked as hard as I could. “Yes,” I heard as his cock pulsed and throbbed, spewing hot, thick cum into my mouth. I swallowed quickly, trying to keep up with the sudden flood, feeling it slide down my throat, warmth spreading through my chest. His cock twitched and jerked while his fingers tangled in my hair, holding me in place as he rode out his orgasm. I felt every pulsation, every hot spurt of cum filling my mouth, sliding down my throat, and I swallowed it all, hungry for his taste.

He finally stopped moving, and his body went limp. I pulled back, his cock slipping from my mouth with a wet pop. The air, rushing and warm, was welcome, and I gasped for it to fully fill my lungs. I licked my lips, so I tasted the remnants of him, my pussy throbbing with need.

He turned toward me with his eyes glazed over. “Fuck,” he said, taking in deep breaths of his own. “That was—that was incredible.” Mitchell’s voice trailed off, and I could barely hear him over the highway roar. His eyes burned, though, and I felt a thrill run through me, my pussy clenching at the way he looked at me. I wanted all of him.

“I want to taste you,” he said. “I want to bury my face between your legs and make you scream.” I wanted that, too.

I wanted his mouth on me, his tongue exploring me, his fingers inside me. I wanted to feel him—all of him. I wanted him to take me. Kicking off my heels, I pulled my dress up and hooked my fingers into the waistband of my panties, pulling them down until they lay at my ankles. Reaching through the seatbelt, I moved it behind my shoulder and turned, my back against the car door, my feet at either end of the center console between us. Mitchell's eyes followed my movements, his gaze locked onto my pussy, now bare and exposed to him.

The heavy night air added to the dampness between my legs. The dashboard lights cast a white illumination over my cunt, spotlighting it in the dark. Mitchell shifted in his seat, leaned in my direction, and reached his arm toward me. A single finger grazed the side of my ankle, and exhilaration raced up my leg. One hand gripped the steering wheel tightly while the finger traced idle patterns on my skin. I felt the heat from the rough callouses on his fingers dancing in stark contrast to the smooth, cool leather of the seat against my ass.

His eyes traveled from the road to my pussy and back again, each look increasing in length, his stares intense and craving. I spread my legs wider, giving a clear view of my cunt. Closing my eyes, I bit my lip, and tentatively reached down, my fingers brushing against my clit. A jolt of pleasure shot through me, and I moaned. Mitchell's eyes darkened, his gaze moving from the road to me as it lingered even longer.

“This is what you want, isn't it, Mitchell? Didn’t you say you wanted me to come?”

I began to circle my clit, my fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Mitchell's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes returned to my wet slit.

“So much.”

My covered breasts ached, but not like my pussy. I attempted to match the rhythm of the tires against the road with my fingertips as I rubbed the throbbing clit under my fingertips. The desire had grown since the dance floor, and now it began the slow build to my own release. I wanted him to see and truly understand the depths of my longing and what I would do. I wanted him to taste and feel the raw, unbridled passion he had been developing within me, and I wanted him to feel it in return.

“Can you see how wet I am for you? Can you see how much this cunt wants...needs attention?” I placed one foot on his shoulder and one on the dashboard, spreading my legs even wider. My pussy was swollen and slick, while I stroked the wetness from my gash up to my swollen button. I could feel the moisture seeping from me, pooling at the edges of my thighs.

“You're soaking wet.”

“See what you’ve done to me? Look at this pussy. It needs fucked so badly.”

Silently, he pulled the car off at the next exit.

The anticipation built in my cunt as he drove down a winding, deserted road, the only light left from the car itself and the stars overhead. As I continued to play with myself, I noticed his erection had returned.

He turned onto a lane that led into a field, and then he turned off the convertible. With no air moving, the night was even stuffier. The only sounds in the night were from insects and the squishing of my fingers across my wet pussy.

Mitchell unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and the light returned to the car. He flipped a switch, and it was dark again. Shifting his position, he sat between my parted legs and leaned between them, kissing my thighs, his breath even warmer than the stagnant air around us.

Then, he lowered his face to my cunt. First, his mouth teased me with hot breath before his tongue finally touched me. It flicked across my clit, slow and deliberate.

I threaded my fingers through his hair as I guided and encouraged him to explore further. His tongue slipped past my folds to taste all of me. As his tongue moved in smooth, deliberate strokes, waves of pleasure washed through me. I rocked against his face, the pressure building with each pass of his tongue.

“More,” I demanded. Mitchell increased the pressure, sucking on my clit. He started with a feather-light suction before moving to a more assertive pull on my button. His fingers joined, sliding into me easily. He curled them inside me with that come-hither motion, and stars danced behind my closed eyelids.

Mitchell's movements became more urgent, more insistent. I pushed my head into the door and arched my back, pressing myself against his mouth, desperate for more contact and for more of what he was delivering. A long “yes” escaped from me, and he responded with a low hum against my sweet spot, sending vibrations through me.

The sweet pressure built at my core. My hands gripped him near his ears, and I placed his mouth where I wanted it. Then, with a sudden intensity, the climax crashed over me. A loud moan tore from my lips as waves of ecstasy rolled through me, leaving me shivering and shaking.

Mitchell pulled his head back. “I want you so damn much,” he said. “I need to be inside you.”

He didn't need to ask twice. I was already unbuckling my seatbelt, my body moving of its own accord as I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. The positions were uncomfortable, and he had to adjust the seat lower and back. His hands rested on my hips, and my dress covered them. I felt his cock, hard and thick, as he pressed against my wet pussy. His cock throbbed to get in when its head brushed my slit.

I stared straight at him as I reached behind me, fingers fumbling with the clasp of my bra. Mitchell's hands moved to my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh as he guided my pussy down on him. Finally, the hooks gave way, and I pulled my arms from the straps before stretching the dress up and over my head. My breasts spilled out, nipples aroused and aching for his touch.

He moved his hands up to cup my breasts. His fingers found my nipples, pinching them lightly, then more firmly as he gauged my reactions. “You’re even better than I dreamed,” he said.

I shifted my hips so I could reach his cock. I held his shaft and lowered myself onto him. Slowly, I threaded his cock into my aching gash. His hands slid from my breasts to my waist, and he guided me onto him. I felt him fill me as he filled me to my limits. We began a slow rhythm as I raised and lowered myself onto his full his dick. Our rocking grew with each movement.

It was difficult to maneuver in the small car, but every little adjustment was worth it, and our bodies found a rhythm. I moaned with each slow thrust and felt the promise of more with every withdrawal of his shaft. The constraints of the car seat amplified every sensation, each brush of his skin on mine, our movement cramped yet intensely focused.

Mitchell led my hips in a slow up-and-down motion. Each descent pressed him deeper inside me, and I savored the way he filled me. The sound of our bodies as they met mixed with our heavy breathing and the occasional creak of the car springs.

“Oh my God, you’re so damn tight. It feels like you're strangling my cock.”

And I felt like he stretched my entire pelvic area. “Harder,” I said and dug nails into his shoulders.

“Fuck me harder.”

He did as I asked, slamming into me with a force that made the car shake. His hands were everywhere all at once—on my ass, my breasts, running through my hair. I rode him harder, grinding down on him as he pumped into me. His hips surged upwards, meeting me with an increasing urgency.

The wet, slapping noise of my drenched cunt on his dick turned me on more. I felt him stretching me, filling me completely.

“Is this what you want?” His hips pistoned up to meet my thighs. “You want fucked hard and fast?”

“Yes,” I said. “Show me how much you want this. How much you want me.”

His fingers gripped my ass as he lifted me slightly before he slammed me back down onto his cock. He hammered inside me, so the head of his cock pushed against my cervix over and over. The sensation was stunning—a fine line between pleasure and pain that edged me close to another orgasm.

His mouth found my nipple, and he sucked hungrily, pulling it deep in his mouth. My body arched towards him. “I want you to choke me.”

He didn’t hesitate and placed a hand on my throat, firm but careful. His fingers traced the line of my jaw, and he pressed his thumb and a finger at each side of my neck. He increased the pressure cautiously, and my muscles tensed, aching to release. Mitchell grunted into the heavy night air, his breath covering my chest with short, steamy gasps as he fucked me with an intensity equal to my desire.

“Come for me,” he said.

Mitchell's upward thrusts grew even stronger. He pounded into my soaking wet pussy and took my nipple between his lips, again biting it in his teeth. I wrapped an arm around his head, pulling him to me while I gripped his shoulder, leveraging to impale myself on his dick.

“I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

And I did. My body convulsed as the orgasm tore through me, and my pussy clenched his cock. His grip on my neck tightened just enough to edge my senses higher, the slight restriction a perfect counterpoint to the freedom of my unraveling orgasm. I saw the pinpoints in the blackness of my mind as my temples pounded out the rhythm of my heart.

“That’s it. Let it go.”

Each pulse of my orgasm was punctuated by his thrusts. His fingers dug into my ass as he drove into me, his cock throbbing as he filled me with his hot cum. I could feel it pulsing inside me, coating my walls, mixing with my own fluids as we came together in a sweaty, panting mess.

“Jesus, fucking, Christ,” Mitchell said between breaths. His forehead rested on my tits as we both struggled to pull air from the humid night. “That was-fuck, that was incredible.”

I could only nod, my body still trembling with the aftershocks of my orgasm. His cock softened inside me, but I didn't want to move.

**********************************************************

We entered through the revolving doors into the opulent lobby of Mitchell's apartment building. An actual doorman was stationed by the elevator. My heels clicked on the polished floor as I stepped toward the elevator, Mitchell close behind, his hand on my back. The silence between us was thick and suffocating, like the night air we had just escaped—a stark contrast to the sounds inside the car. I felt the tension, the questioning of what was next, as we made our way up to his apartment.

We stood side by side, our reflections staring back at us in the brushed metal doors.

I saw the flush that remained on my cheeks, the wildness in my eyes, my hair now falling over my shoulders. Mitchell looked just as undone, his tie askew, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and a wet spot at his crotch.