This was Emily's second year working as a creative planner at Starry Ad Agency, a place she had dreamed of joining ever since she first fell in love with the world of advertising. The agency was known for its innovative campaigns and cutting-edge creativity, and Emily had worked tirelessly to prove herself among the talented team.
Tonight, the atmosphere was electric as the company celebrated Ryan, the creative director, for winning the prestigious Annual Outstanding Creative Award. The award was a testament to Ryan's unparalleled talent and vision, and the entire creative department had gathered at a chic, dimly lit bar downtown to toast his success. The bar was buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of conversation, but Emily found herself sitting alone at a corner table, nursing a beer and reflecting on the night.
As she sipped her drink, lost in thought, she was startled when Ryan himself approached her, holding a vibrant red cocktail in his hand. He flashed her a warm smile and slid into the seat beside her, his presence commanding yet surprisingly approachable. "You're Emily from the planning department, right? I ordered this drink for you. Hope you'll like it," he said, his voice smooth and genuine as he handed her the cocktail. Emily's heart skipped a beat. She had always admired Ryan from afar, marveling at his creativity and leadership, but she never imagined he would notice her, let alone take the time to sit down and talk to her.
Nervously, she accepted the drink, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. "Thank you, Director Ryan," she replied, her voice slightly trembling as she took a tentative sip. The cocktail was sweet with a hint of tartness, perfectly balanced and exactly to her taste. She couldn't help but smile, and Ryan noticed her reaction, his lips curving into a satisfied grin. "Looks like I made a good choice," he said, his tone light and teasing.
Feeling a bit more at ease, Emily decided to seize the moment.
"Director Ryan, I sincerely congratulate you on winning the Outstanding Creative Award. Ever since I saw your first camera advertisement five years ago, I've admired your work. It was actually because of you that I chose to enter the advertising industry and join Starry Ad Agency. It's an honor to work on your team," she admitted, her words pouring out in a rush of sincerity. She hadn't planned to share so much, but the alcohol was beginning to loosen her inhibitions, and the admiration she had bottled up for years finally found its way out.
Ryan was visibly surprised, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he processed her words. He hadn't expected Emily to remember his first advertisement, let alone cite it as her inspiration. Her heartfelt confession struck a chord with him, stirring something deep within. In his position, Ryan was accustomed to being surrounded by people who sought his attention for various reasons—some genuine, others less so. But Emily's words carried a rare authenticity that resonated with him. There was something about her—her passion, her humility, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about her work—that felt different. It was as if she saw him not just as a successful creative director, but as someone who had genuinely inspired her.
As the night wore on, the two continued to talk, their conversation flowing effortlessly from work to life, from dreams to challenges. They laughed over shared experiences and debated the latest trends in advertising, their connection growing stronger with each passing minute.
Meanwhile, their colleagues began to drift away, some heading to a nearby karaoke bar to continue the celebration. But Emily and Ryan chose to stay behind, content in each other's company. They ordered another round of drinks, the alcohol further blurring the lines between professionalism and something more personal.
As the hours slipped by, Emily's initial nervousness melted away, replaced by a warm, tipsy glow. She found herself laughing more freely, her guard completely down. Ryan, too, seemed more relaxed, his usual composed demeanor softened by the alcohol and the easy rapport they had developed. But as the night deepened, Emily's energy began to wane. The combination of the drinks and the emotional weight of the evening finally caught up with her, and she gradually drifted into a hazy, tipsy state. Before she knew it, her head was resting on the table, her eyes closed as she succumbed to sleep.
Ryan watched her for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. He couldn't quite explain it, but there was something about Emily that had touched him in a way few people ever had. As he sat there, surrounded by the quiet hum of the bar, he felt a strange sense of contentment, as if the night had brought him something far more meaningful than any award ever could.
"Emily, where do you live? I'll take you home," Ryan asked softly, his voice laced with concern as he gently shook her shoulder, trying to rouse her from her drowsy state. When she didn't respond, her breathing steady and deep, he sighed and glanced around the now nearly empty bar.
Realizing he couldn't just leave her there, he made a quick decision. Carefully, he slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her effortlessly. Her head lolled against his chest as he carried her out into the cool night air, the city lights casting a soft glow around them. He hailed a taxi and, after a moment's hesitation, instructed the driver to take them to a nearby hotel. It wasn't ideal, but he couldn't think of a better option at the moment.
Once they arrived at the hotel, Ryan checked them in, his mind racing as he tried to push aside the growing tension he felt. When he lifted Emily into his arms, her body melted against him—soft, warm, yielding. The press of her curves, the dip of her small waist beneath his fingers, made his breath hitch. She was light, but the way she nestled into him, the heat of her skin seeping through her clothes, was intoxicating. He carried Emily to the room, her weight light in his arms, and carefully laid her down on the bed. He adjusted the pillows under her head and draped a blanket over her, ensuring she was comfortable. As he turned to leave, Emily's hand suddenly shot out, grasping his wrist with surprising strength. Her eyes were still closed, but her lips moved, her voice barely above a whisper. "Director Ryan, your advertisements have always been my inspiration. I hope one day, I can follow in your footsteps and create work that will be remembered."
Her words struck him like a bolt of lightning, piercing through the walls he had built around himself. Ryan froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked down at her. Her delicate features were softened by the dim light of the room, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and her lips slightly parted. In that moment, she looked so vulnerable, so genuine, that he felt something shift inside him. He had spent years surrounded by people who sought his attention for their own gain, but Emily's admiration was pure, untainted by ulterior motives. It was a rare and precious thing, and it stirred something deep within him—something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Before he could stop himself, Ryan leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. It was brief, almost chaste, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him. When Emily's eyes fluttered open, her gaze hazy and unfocused, he felt a pang of guilt but also a surge of desire he couldn't ignore. "Ryan…" she murmured, her voice drowsy but tinged with something else—something that made his heart race.
"I'm sorry, Emily," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I can't hold back… I just want to cherish you." His lips found hers again, this time with more urgency, his hand sliding behind her head to cradle it gently. His fingers threaded through her hair, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. Emily's response was hesitant at first, but then she melted into him, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, her touch tentative yet eager.
Ryan's fingers skimmed down her arm, grazing over the smooth fabric of her dress before finding the zipper at her back. He tugged it down slowly, the sound barely audible in the quiet room—a whisper of surrender. The dress slipped off her shoulders, pooling at her waist, revealing the soft curve of her collarbone, the delicate straps of her bra. His lips followed, pressing gentle, reverent kisses over her bare skin, savoring every inch of her as if she were something sacred.
Then, with aching slowness, he reached for the clasp of her bra, his fingers brushing the warm skin of her back before releasing it. The fabric fell away, and his breath caught.
Emily's breasts were exquisite—full, perfectly shaped, the kind of beauty that made his chest tighten. They rose with every unsteady breath she took, her nipples already pebbled under his gaze. Soft as rose petals, yet lush enough to fill his hands, they were a temptation he couldn't resist. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his lips returned to hers, kissing her with a hunger that surprised even him. He cupped their weight, thumbs tracing slow circles over her flushed skin, watching the way she arched into his touch.
Lowering his mouth, he tasted her—first the curve, then the peak, teasing with his tongue until her breath hitched.Emily shivered under his touch, her body both tense and aching for more. Ryan's hands roamed over her sides, his touch firm yet tender, as if memorizing the curves of her body. His hands explored every inch of her, his touch gentle yet electrifying, sending shivers down her spine. As Ryan's lips traveled lower, his fingers traced along the edge of her remaining clothing, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her every chance to push him away.
Ryan's fingers hooked into the delicate lace of Emily's panties, sliding them down her trembling thighs with agonizing slowness. His breath turned ragged as he took in the sight of her—bare, flushed, and beautifully exposed just for him. He couldn't resist lowering his mouth to her, his tongue tracing slow circles over her swollen flesh. Emily gasped, her fingers knotting in his hair as he licked deeper, drinking in her sweetness, her legs shaking around his shoulders.
But the more she whimpered, the more his control frayed. His cock ached, straining against his pants, hard and desperate for relief. With a growl, he stripped off his clothes, his gaze locked on hers as he settled between her thighs.
The first press of his cock against her warmth made them both shudder—but when he pushed forward slightly, he froze.
Tight. Too tight.
Ryan's breath hitched as realization dawned. "Emily…" He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Look at me. Do you want this?"
Her answer wasn't words—it was her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, her body arching in silent surrender.
"I'll be gentle," he promised, his voice rough with restraint.
He entered her inch by torturous inch, his muscles trembling with the effort to go slow.
Emily's breath came in sharp little gasps, her nails digging into his shoulders, but she didn't push him away. When he finally sheathed himself fully inside her, he stilled, letting her adjust to the stretch, to the feel of him.
"You're perfect," he gritted out, his forehead pressed to hers. "So fucking perfect."
Then, with agonizing care, he began to move—shallow thrusts at first, just enough to make her whimper. But as her body relaxed, as her hips lifted to meet his, he deepened his strokes, his pace growing steadier, more confident.
"God, you feel incredible," Ryan groaned, his hands sliding under her thighs to lift her legs higher, anchoring them over his shoulders. The new angle made her cry out as he thrust deeper, hitting a spot that had her trembling.
When Emily's climax hit, her body clenched around him like a vise, her moans music to his ears. Ryan rolled them to their sides, never slipping out of her, and cradled her close as he continued to move—slower now, drawing out every last ripple of her pleasure.
"That's it," he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with reverence. His hips rolled in deep, measured strokes, each one prolonging her shudders until she whimpered, oversensitive and trembling. He swallowed the sound with a kiss, his hand sliding down to grip her thigh, hiking it higher around his waist.
She was pliant in his arms, her breaths still ragged, but he couldn't stop—not when she felt this good, not when every drag of his body against hers made her gasp. His control frayed with every slick, clinging pull, his rhythm turning uneven, desperate.
He increased the rhythm of his thrusts, his release crashing over him with a groan that vibrated through her skin. He held her tighter, burying his face in her neck as he spilled inside her, his entire body taut with pleasure.
The night seemed to stretch on forever, Ryan's touch was both tender and demanding, his kisses a mix of reverence and passion.