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You hurried down the hall, dodging the tech support staff in their banana yellow shirts and the admin assistants with armloads of files. He’d called, told you he needed to see you as soon as possible, which was why you were practically sprinting towards his office. And thankfully, for once, you didn’t have to try to get past his overprotective secretary, Iris.
You opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind you. Dean was on the phone, roaming around the office with that headset on, but that didn’t stop him from winking at you, or from bending down and kissing you, a hand on your waist, squeezing it possessively.
You waited, leaning against the door, watching him as he paced; entranced by the crisp lines of his blue and white pinstriped shirt and the red tie and suspenders that accented the muscles of his shoulders and drew your eyes to his chiseled chest.
You were so absorbed in watching Dean, you didn’t even realize he’d ended the call until the headset hit the desk and he’d trapped you against the door, his hands on either side of your head, his body flush against yours.
“Hi,” he murmured, kissing you again, nipping at your lower lip. “What took you so long?”
“Too many people in the halls,” you giggled, hooking your fingers in his suspenders, trying to pull him even closer than he was.
Dean growled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest, his hand sliding down your waist so he could grab your skirt and pull it up, his fingers on your bare thigh, his touch like heat burning your skin. He shoved his knee between your legs, pushing them open, his kisses demanding and greedy.
God, this was what you’d been hoping would happen when he’d called you to his office. Just the sound of his voice made your stomach flip with need, your thighs quiver with want, your body ache for him. All sense of propriety was thrown out the window when Mr. Smith wanted your attention. Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing in his office fumbling at the button on his blue dress pants, moaning obscenely with his hand between your legs, his fingers doing things to you that made your knees weak.
You pushed a hand between the two of you and closed your hand around his hard cock now straining against the soft fabric of his dress pants. He groaned and pushed your wet panties to the side, two fingers sliding through your slick folds, teasing, just before pushing into you, pumping slowly. You gasped and wiggled your hips, grinding yourself against his thick fingers. You were already close.
“Mr. Smith?” Dean’s secretary’s voice sounded from the intercom. “You’re eleven thirty is here.”
“Shit,” he murmured against your neck. “I forgot.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the phone. “Give me about five minutes, Iris,” he called.
“Yes sir,” his assistant replied, the intercom clicking off seconds later.
He turned back to you, his lips roaming over every inch your jaw just before he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin beneath your ear, biting just this side of gentle, the pain exquisite alongside the pleasure of his fingers thrusting into you.
“Dean,” you moaned. “I...I’m gonna come…” You could barely breath, barely think as waves of intense heat rushed through you, your body right on the cusp of orgasm.
He wrapped his arm around your waist, nearly lifting you off your feet as he held you against the wall and fucked you deep and hard with his fingers, not stopping until you came in a sudden burst of pleasure, your entire body tensing, sweat breaking out in a thin sheen across your body.
“Mr. Smith?” Iris repeated, her voice sounding tinny and far away.
He released you, took your hand in his, swung around, quickly crossed the room, and punched the button on the phone. “Thank you, Iris, give me just a minute.” He hit the button again and sighed heavily. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk, looking around the room, a sudden smile breaking across his face.
“You got anywhere to be?” he asked, grinning wickedly.
“No,” you shook your head. “I’m on my lunch break.”
His grin widened. “Perfect. Come here.” He dragged you behind his desk, pulled the chair out and pointed.
“What?”
“You know what ,” he chuckled. “Question is, are you willing to do it?”
That sounded distinctly like a challenge and Dean knew you couldn’t resist a challenge. Besides, you didn’t really want to walk out past Iris and whoever was here for a meeting with Dean, not with your kiss swollen lips and flushed pink skin, looking like you’d just been fucked, nor did you want to walk out of here leaving Dean unsatisfied. You dropped to your knees, shooting a quick smile at him, then crawled under his desk. A few seconds later he sat down and slid his chair into place, his knees just inches from your face.
“Go ahead and send him in,” you heard Dean say.
Dean’s office desk was huge, the space beneath it big enough for a large man to fit comfortably. You made yourself comfortable, listening as the door opened and someone came in. The two men exchanged pleasantries, Dean rising to his feet for a moment before returning to his chair, sprawling in it really, legs spread, feet on either side of you. You could see the line of his still hard cock laying against his inner thigh. You wanted, needed, to touch him.
You slid forward and put your hands on his thighs. His muscles jumped under your touch, not enough for anyone but you to notice, but you could feel them tensing.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Shurley,” Dean said, completely calm. “I wanted to go over some of these numbers before the stockholders meeting next week. I know you wanted to discuss them before making your final decision about your investment.”
You moved your hands up his thighs to the button of his slacks and popped it open, then you quickly slid the zipper down. Dean’s legs fell open even further, which you took as an invitation, pushing yourself between them, your hand sliding into his boxers and pulling him free.
He shifted slightly and cleared his throat. One of his hands fell from the desk to his thigh, his fingers twitching, clenching in the soft fabric of his pants. You ran your hand down the length of his shaft, stroking him slowly from top to bottom, twisting your wrist at the last second, dragging your fingers through the soft hairs at the base.
“Uh...let’s, um, take a look at these...uh...numbers…” Dean stammered. He cleared his throat again and you could hear papers shuffling. “Here...here’s the most recent sales report, and-uh-here's the most recent income statement."
You traced your finger along the thick vein on the underside of his cock several times before rubbing a small circle just beneath the head. Dean’s hand tightened on his thigh, his cock pulsing in your hand.
“Mr. Smith? Are you okay?” Mr. Shurley asked.
Dean cleared his throat yet again and scooted closer to the desk, the wheels on the chair squeaking as it moved. “Of course. So, as you can see from the income statement, our net income has increased by nearly five percent from last year-"
You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, holding him tightly. Your tongue darted out and licked him from the root to the top, swirling quickly around the tip and across the slit.
“We were hoping to expand sales again this period, which would allow us to add a conference room on the top floor, hopefully with your name attached.” Dean’s voice remained surprisingly calm despite what was occurring beneath the desk.
“I see.” More papers shuffling and the squeak of a chair moving. “Let me look this over for minute, Smith.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Shurley,” Dean said.
You leaned forward, one hand on his thigh, the other wrapped around the base of his cock and sucked the tip into your mouth, your tongue pressed to the sensitive spot just beneath the head. It jerked in your hand and Dean let out a startled cough. He mumbled “excuse me.”
You mouthed and licked him from top to bottom, caressing him with your lips. He shifted, one ass cheek coming up off the chair a tiny bit, his hand sliding into your hair and around the back of your neck, urging you forward. You wrapped your lips around him and slid him into your mouth, pushing yourself to your knees, the top of your head brushing the bottom of the desk as you positioned yourself so you could pull him deeper into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.
You heard Dean make an odd, strangled sound, and then Shurley said something, though you weren’t sure what, and honestly, it didn’t matter, because the only thing you cared about was swallowing Dean’s cock and sucking him off until he came down your throat. You grasped the base of his cock, tight, and dragged your lips up his length, pre-come flooding your tastebuds.
You could hear them talking, Dean and Shurley, numbers and questions flying back and forth, Shurley calm and straightforward, Dean’s answers rough and often garbled. He had his hand fisted in your hair, pulling it as you bobbed your head up and down, deep-throating him.
You had no idea what was going on above you or how Dean was managing to continue talking business when you were beneath his desk, your face buried in his lap, his hard length pulsing in your mouth, pre-come spread over your lips, and tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. You took him in as deep as you could, until you were nearly gagging, your throat constricting around him, the only indication that it was affecting him a subtle tug of your hair.
It could have been five minutes, ten minutes, an hour, you had no idea, you were so consumed with what you were doing to Dean. You were startled to hear the squeak of a moving chair, then Dean promising to have the adjusted numbers to Chuck by morning, the loud click of a door closing. Seconds later, the chair moved back a couple of inches, both of Dean’s hands were in your hair, and his legs were falling open.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his hips jutting up to push himself deeper into your mouth.
You moaned, the sound muffled as you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock and glanced up at him. He was watching you, his fingers tangled in your hair, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his green eyes black with lust. His cheeks were red and he was breathing hard.
Dean grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet. He left you leaning you against the desk, stalked across the room and flipped the lock on his office door. He was back beside you within seconds, his lips crashing into yours in a bruising kiss as he pulled you against his body, his hands seemingly everywhere at once. You shoved his suspenders off his shoulders and wrapped his tie around your hand, pulling him into you. He growled, turned you around and pushed you face first down on top of his desk. He lifted your skirt over your hips and twisted his fingers in your soaked panties, and with one hard yank, he ripped them from your body and let them fall to the floor. He leaned over you and rubbed his cock against the lips of your pussy.
You gasped, pushing yourself back against him, your body aching with need. “Dean,” you moaned.
He fisted a handful of your hair and pulled your head back, tugging hard. “Tell me what you want,” he ordered, his lips inches from your ear.
“Fuck me, Dean,” you moaned. “I want you to fuck me.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he growled. He tightened his grip on your hair, groaning as he eased into you. He waited a heartbeat before he started to move, slow at first, the pace increasing with every thrust.
You grabbed the edge of the desk, holding on as Dean slammed into you, the weight of his body pressing into you, his mouth on your neck, sucking deep, purple bruises you would have to hide later into the skin, his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling it, his cock buried deep inside you. You were biting your lip, hard enough to hurt, holding back the screams you wanted to let free, your body wound so tight you weren’t sure you’d last much longer.
Dean’s hand snaked around your waist, gliding down your stomach to rest between your legs, two fingers pressed against your clit, massaging the swollen nub, pushing you agonizingly close to bursting, every thrust of his hips dragging his cock across your sweet spot, every grunt and groan from him adding to the multitude of sensations building and building inside of you until you let go with muffled cry, your mouth pressed against your arm.
Dean moaned as your walls clenched around him, his hips thrusting at a near maniacal pace, his fingers furiously circling your clit, his body bent over yours, pulling your hair so hard it stung, but Jesus, it was a good pain and you were unbelievably close to coming again. One more hard thrust from Dean, so deep it was like you felt it in every pore, and you were coming again.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his body tensing over yours, his own orgasm working its way through him.
As the pleasure faded, leaving you both satisfied, his fingers drifted down the back of your head, gently caressing you, as he peppered your neck with tender kisses. He released you and helped you to your feet, pulling your skirt back down, attempting to straighten your clothes, before hugging you to his chest, his lips pressed to your temple.
“I have a meeting in five minutes with Adler,” he sighed.
You glanced over your shoulder at the clock on his desk. “My lunch break is over in ten.” You looked back at him and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Just enough time to get cleaned up.” You ran a hand over your sexed up hair.
“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly.
“Don’t be,” you laughed. “Totally worth it.” You ducked under his arm, then leaned in for one final kiss. “See you later?”
“Be here at five sharp. I might have some things to discuss with you.” He winked, making you giggle.
You were still giggling as you walked past Iris, sitting at her desk, a confused look on her face as she stared after you.