Without realizing it, my hands started moving on their own. They slid down her back, feeling the smooth, unbroken plane of her wet skin, tracing the curve lower and lower until I reached firm curves of her ass. My fingers instinctively gripped her, and her skin felt like soft, pliable dough under my touch.
She responded by pulling me tighter into her chest, crushing me against her. I felt the sudden, hard evidence of my desire—my little Luke had become 'big Luke,' standing at full attention—and she definitely felt it. Her breath hitched and got intense against my ear.
"I... I can't... let's do this," she whispered her voice came out like a short, desperate rasp, and she reached down, her warm hand grip my manhood, holding it with a firm, confident touch.
For a moment, my brain short-circuited. I couldn't process anything but the soft, warm, terrifying feeling of her hand encompassing me. I let out a deep, animal groan of pure excitement, a sound torn from me like a lion's roar.
My grip on her tightened, one hand around her waist while the other found the space between her legs, rubbing gently.
My fingers were slick with her juices, and I could feel her body trembling violently under my touch. She couldn't help herself, letting out soft, broken sounds of pleasure desperate moans, as she leaned into me like her legs could no longer stand.
I lifted her left leg, hooking it around my hip, and my six inches was ready and eager to fulfill its purpose. I slid into her slowly, her mouth fell open in a silent gasp of surprise. I felt the immediate, consuming heat of her inner walls, welcoming me with a wet, tight embrace and softness of her interior, wetness made the connection slide without struggle. She tried to catch her breath while her nails dug into my skin, holding me tight. I could tell she wanted this so bad, even against the magical compulsion.
I began stroking gently, easing us both into the intense pleasure. Streams of vaginal fluid flowed down her thighs as I increased my pace, her moans filling the air. As the pleasure became fierce and intense, I increased the speed, and just as I felt the crushing, explosive need to release, I pulled out, needing a moment to catch my breath.
But she couldn't wait. Her voice, now rough with demanding need, ripped through the steam: "Fuck me, Luke!"
I moved her around, positioning her against the wall. I began stroking her again, starting gently, then pushing deeper and deeper, each thrust eliciting a moan of pleasure from her.
"Oh yeah, like that, right there, Luke," she gasped.
Anna, the Ice Queen, was now a goddess of pleasure—her sound was so soft and unbelievably seductive. Everything about this moment felt perfect and impossible. My hands held her tight onto the waist, and I kept going, pushing toward the end.
But just as I was about to release, she suddenly pushed herself away from me.
"What are you doing?!" I lamented, my voice cracking with sharp frustration. My blood was boiling high, I was at the breaking point, and now she suddenly stopped?
She shook her head, her voice soothing but firm, completely returning to her controlled self. "Please, don't be angry, Luke. It's not what you think."
"Then what is it?" I demanded, trying desperately to keep my frustration and sheer physical need in check.
"We are coworkers, remember?" she said, stepping back just far enough so the hot water could hit her alone.
In my mind, a dark, stupid impulse flared up: Maybe I should just hold her by force and finish what we already started. But immediately, something in my gut, the soft, decent core of Luke, told me: You are not such a kind of person. I couldn't do it.
She didn't wait. Anna simply stepped away from me, leaving the warm, wet closeness behind. Watching her swaying booty move away, her perfect behind disappearing, left me there, still standing, stuck in a desperate heat full of unfinished desire. I looked down at myself, my body tense and aching, wanting more. The sudden rejection was a physical blow.
I tried to cool myself down, reaching out and violently switching the shower to cold water. The icy shock hit my skin, making me gasp and cringe. I stood there, letting the cold water run over my burning skin for about five minutes, trying to wash away the shame and the need.
Then she came back. She held a thick, soft towel. I stepped out, my skin prickling from the cold, and she gave it to me. She was smiling again, now wearing her dark silk robe, which flowed perfectly around her. I could still see the curves, a soft tease that mocked my control.
I dried myself, wrapping the towel tightly, as she stood there watching me.
"Finish and come take your meal," she said.
"Why?" I asked her, the word coming out as a broken, confused whisper. My voice sounded weak and small.
She didn't answer. She just smiled, that calm, infuriating smile, and headed to the dining room.
I looked into her dressing table. It was full of every fancy cosmetic, perfect little bottles lined up like soldiers. Everything about this place screamed money and control. I grabbed a generic bottle of lotion from the counter, trying to stop thinking, and quickly put on the clothes that now felt damp and cheap.
I checked my phone. There was a missed call from a new, unknown number. I ignored it, putting the phone back in my pocket, and followed her out to the dining room.
She was already sitting there. My food—a plate of pasta and chicken—was on the table, and she had turned on the television. A low, meaningless sound of a news program could be heard. I sat down at the table and started eating, but the food tasted like ash.
Her smile was like someone who had committed a crime and was completely proud of it. All my confidence was gone, stolen by that one word: coworkers. The air was heavy, and I didn't feel comfortable sitting with her again. I was just the subordinate eating the boss's niece's food after she sexually toyed with me. The whole situation was completely twisted.
After I was done with my meal, the food sitting heavy and cold in my stomach, she asked me, "Are you satisfied?"
I nodded quickly, the movement stiff and clumsy, as if she could change anything if I dared to say something different. The truth was, I felt gutted, not satisfied. She took the plate and walked toward the kitchen.
I told her that it was time for me to go.
She didn't argue. She just said, "Wait, your Uber is already on the way." She had ordered it for me. The gesture was polite, practical, and completely crushing.
I sat on the sofa right where I was before, and she sat back on her chair in the dining area. We were like strangers waiting for a bus. Those were the longest ten minutes of my life. My mind spun with questions: Was it really the old woman's power working? Or did she just accept to humiliate me, to prove I was beneath her? I couldn't press her—she was the CEO's niece, the untouchable boss. "Fuck!" I cursed quietly, the word barely a puff of air.
I looked at her. She was completely cool, flipping channels, like nothing raw or intense had happened. I really hated that composure. It made me feel like the messy, desperate one, which I was.
Then the ride arrived. I went outside, looked at her one last time across the luxurious room. She smiled, a small, polite, farewell smile, and waved.
I got into the car. I felt drained and heavy, not just physically tired, but emotionally exhausted. The ride home was silent and blurry. We reached my building. I got in, closed the door, and took a deep breath of my own, stale air.
I sat on my couch, threw my bag aside, and pulled out my phone. I checked the new number, thinking maybe I shouldn't call because it was nearly midnight. But the urge was strong. I dialed.
It picked up right away. A woman's voice answered, "Hello?"
"Hello, who is it?" I asked, confused.
She said, "Oh, sorry for disturbing. It's just your new neighbor. I was moving in and thought you were home." It was Nicole, the pleasant woman from last night.
"It's okay, I just came back," I said, letting out a breath.
"Okay, goodnight."
"Goodnight," I replied, and hung up.
I went to the bedroom and took on my pajamas. I was ready to sleep, desperate to shut down my brain. But all the memories came back. Every touch, every moan she made in the shower was playing back loud in my head.
My mind went crazy. I found myself erecting again, the desire overwhelming. I wanted to call her, but I couldn't. It was too much. I could not calm the need. I had to do something, anything, to release the tension that Anna had built and then left unfinished. I grabbed my phone, opened a certain site, and decided to... relieve the impossible craving she had caused.