Office Party

Office Party by Casey Quinn

I had been standing in James's doorway for nearly a minute, holding a file that neither of us particularly needed to discuss. He was sitting behind his desk, looking up at me with that expression I had come to recognize. Attentive, amused, just a little wary.

"Something else?" he asked.

"Possibly."

He leaned back in his chair. "That sounds intriguing."

I smiled. I knew exactly how I looked standing there. I'd taken particular care with my appearance that morning. My dark hair fell neatly around my face, my eye makeup emphasized what I'd always considered my best feature, and my lips were a beautiful, deep red. I'd spent several minutes getting the lipstick exactly right. Vanity? Perhaps. But I was a good-looking woman, and I saw no reason to pretend I didn't know it. I'd caught James looking at my mouth twice during our afternoon meeting.

He'd been discreet, of course. James was very good at being discreet. Usually. I crossed the office and laid the file on his desk.

"You're working late."

"So are you."

"I've finished."

"Congratulations."

I walked around the corner of his desk rather than taking the chair opposite him. He watched me approach.

"James."

"Alicia."

"Stand up."

His eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"Because I'd like you to."

He studied me for another moment, then stood. He was taller than I was, although not by enough to make me uncomfortable looking directly into his eyes. I moved closer, leaving perhaps six inches between us. He glanced briefly at my mouth. That was all the encouragement I needed.

"You're very quiet," I said.

"I'm trying to figure out what you're doing."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

I stepped closer. "Any progress?"

He laughed softly, but it wasn't a particularly convincing laugh.

"Alicia."

There was something wonderfully revealing about the way he said my name. I reached up and straightened his tie. It didn't need straightening, but I took my time anyway, smoothing the fabric and examining my handiwork.

"That's better."

He looked down at me.

"You're playing with fire."

"Am I?"

"You know you are."

I smiled. "Then perhaps you'd better do something about it."

For a moment he simply watched me. Then he kissed me. I had been expecting it. In fact, I'd arranged the entire little encounter to make it happen. But I hadn't anticipated how much I'd enjoy that first moment. James was a good kisser. Better than good. His initial kiss was cautious, almost a question. His lips rested against mine, and for a moment neither of us moved. I let the kiss linger before answering it, putting my arms around his neck and drawing him closer. He responded immediately.

I liked that. I tilted my head and kissed him again. This time our lips parted, and the kiss deepened naturally. I could feel him becoming more confident as I responded, his earlier hesitation giving way to enthusiasm. I drew back a fraction, then returned to his mouth. James followed my lead. That interested me. He was accustomed to taking charge, particularly in the office. But here he seemed perfectly Jamesing to let me decide what happened next. I relaxed against him and allowed the kiss to continue.

His hand settled at my waist. Mine rested against the back of his neck, where I could feel the warmth of his skin above his collar. For several moments we forgot about the file on his desk, the office around us, and the fact that we'd spent the entire afternoon behaving like respectable colleagues. When I finally drew away, his eyes remained closed for an instant. I smiled.

"Well."

He opened them.

"Well?" he repeated.

"That was interesting."

"Interesting?"

"Very."

He stared at me. I could practically hear him trying to assemble a coherent sentence. I took a small step backward and examined his face.

"Did I surprise you?"

"You might say that."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I like surprising you."

He laughed.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Make what easy?"

He shook his head.

I laughed. "James, you're a very intelligent man. Surely you can do better than that."

He reached for my hand. I let him take it.

"Tell me something," I said.

"What?"

"How long have you wanted to kiss me?"

He hesitated.

"That's a dangerous question."

"Only if you answer dishonestly."

"A long time."

I nodded, as though he'd confirmed something I'd merely suspected. "That's what I thought."

"And you?"

I considered giving him a serious answer. It would have been easy enough. I could have told him about the afternoons when I'd found myself watching him across a conference table, or the occasions when I'd wondered whether he would ever stop being so professionally restrained. But I wasn't in the mood for serious answers.

"I asked first."

"That's not an answer."

"No," I agreed. "It isn't."

He was still holding my hand. I stepped toward him again.

"Would you like to kiss me again?"

He looked almost offended by the question.

"Are you serious?"

"Entirely."

"Yes."

I smiled. "Then why are you standing there?"

He reached for me, but I put a hand against his chest.

"Not so fast."

He stopped. I liked that, too. James was listening to me with extraordinary attention now. I slipped my arms around his neck.

"This time," I said, "I'm going to kiss you."

And I did. The second kiss was quite different from the first. There was no initial uncertainty, no awkward moment in which either of us had to decide whether the other wanted this. I knew James wanted to kiss me, and he knew I intended to let him. I took my time. I began with a brief kiss, then another, lingering longer as his arms settled around my waist. When our lips parted again, I stayed close enough to feel his breath against my cheek.

He looked into my eyes.

"You're enjoying this," he said.

"Very much."

"I can tell."

"Can you?"

He nodded.

"Then perhaps you're not quite as distracted as I thought."

I kissed him again before he could answer. James drew me closer. I let him, enjoying the warmth of the embrace and the way he seemed to abandon any attempt at conversation. I had always liked his mouth. It was expressive, particularly when he smiled, and there had been occasions when I'd caught myself wondering what kissing him would be like. Now I knew. And I had no complaints. I also knew something else.

James was paying very close attention to me. When I paused, he waited. When I leaned toward him again, he smiled before our lips met. He seemed increasingly Jamesing to let me set the pace. There was a certain satisfaction in that. I liked James. I liked him very much. He was handsome, intelligent, funny, and one of the few men I knew who could make me laugh even when I was thoroughly irritated with him. But tonight I was enjoying something beyond his company.

I was enjoying his astonishment--and the quiet, growing awareness between us that I was the one in control. James Gardner, who could face down an angry judge without blinking, seemed almost incapable of deciding what to say to me. Eventually I stepped back. He kept one hand at my waist.

"Don't," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you know exactly what I'm thinking."

I laughed. "Oh, James. I do know what you're thinking."

"You can't possibly."

"Would you like me to tell you?"

He studied my face.

"Maybe not."

"Wise man."

I smoothed the front of his jacket, then let my hand drift lower, resting lightly against the front of his trousers. I could already feel the hard shape of him pressing against the fabric. I smiled slowly.

"I can tell you want to fuck me now, James. It's so obvious. You're hard already and we've barely started."

His breath caught.

"Alicia--"

"Unzip," I said quietly. "Pull it out. I want to see."

He stared at me for a second, then did exactly as he was told. The sound of his zipper was loud in the quiet office. He freed himself carefully, and I looked down. His cock was thick, flushed, already fully hard, the head glistening faintly. A clear bead of precome had gathered at the tip. It looked almost angry with how much he wanted this. I made a soft appreciative sound.

"There it is. Look at you. Standing in your own office with your cock out because I told you to. I like that, James. I like that you do what I say."

I didn't touch him yet. I just looked, letting the moment stretch while he stood there exposed and waiting, his cock twitching once under my gaze. Then I stepped in again and kissed him--the third kiss, deeper, slower. While our mouths moved together I finally closed my hand around him. He made a low sound against my lips. I stroked him once, twice, slow and deliberate, feeling the heavy heat of him throb in my grip. My thumb smeared the precome over the head, and his hips jerked forward.

"You feel good," I murmured between kisses. "Thick. Hot. I can tell how badly you want to put this inside me."

I pumped him a few more times, firmer now, watching his face as his control frayed. His breathing had gone ragged. Another slow stroke, then a twist of my wrist on the upstroke that made him groan softly into my mouth.

"Careful," I said, still kissing the corner of his mouth. "I haven't decided yet if I'm going to let you fuck me. Maybe I James. Maybe I'll just keep you like this--hard and aching and doing whatever I tell you."

I gave him several more long, deliberate strokes, feeling more precome slick my fingers. His thighs tensed.

"Do you feel how much this turns me on?" I whispered against his mouth. "Controlling you like this. Making you stand here with your cock in my hand, waiting for permission. It makes me wet, James. Knowing you want me this badly and that I'm the one who gets to decide what happens next."

I pumped him a few more times--slow, firm, relentless--then deliberately slowed and stopped, leaving him throbbing and unfinished in my grip. I kissed him once more, soft and almost sweet, while my fingers still rested lightly around the base of his cock. When I finally ended the kiss, I remained close enough to look directly into his eyes. He was flushed, breathing hard, pupils blown. I smiled.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"You're sure?"

"I'm trying not to say something stupid."

"That's unusually cautious of you."

"You have no idea."

I laughed and gave him one last, slow stroke before I let go. His cock bobbed, wet and neglected.

"Actually, James, I think I have a very good idea."

I stepped back and watched him as he carefully tucked himself away and zipped up, still hard, still clearly aching. He studied me.

"What exactly are you doing tonight, Alicia?"

I considered the question. "Enjoying your company. And deciding whether or not I'm going to let you fuck me."

"That's all?"

"For the moment."

He shook his head.

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told."

I collected the file, although by now we'd both forgotten what was in it. Then I glanced toward the door.

"Good night, James."

He didn't answer immediately. I paused.

"James?"

"Good night, Alicia."

I started toward the doorway, aware that he was watching me. Of course he was. I had known he would. I was almost at the door when I stopped and turned.

"One more thing."

He looked up.

"There's more?"

"Just a little."

I adjusted the collar of my blouse and loosened the top button. The gesture was casual enough, although I'd thought about it before making it. James noticed. I smiled.

"You're staring."

"Can you blame me?"

"No. I don't suppose I can."

He seemed unsure whether I was about to leave or begin another conversation. I decided to help him.

"I know what you're thinking, James."

He gave a short laugh.

"You keep saying that."

"Because I keep being right."

"All right. What am I thinking?"

I walked back toward him, stopping a few feet away. "You're thinking about what would happen if I stayed. About how it would feel to finally get your hands under my clothes. About how badly you want to fuck me on that couch over there."

He looked at me.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"And what would happen?"

I tilted my head. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether I decided to stay... and on whether I decide you've been good enough to earn it."

He smiled, but it was strained.

"You're enjoying having the last word."

"Very much. And I think you're enjoying that I'm the one who has it."

I looked at him for another moment. Then I said it plainly. "You want to fuck me, James. You've wanted it for a long time. I can still feel how hard you were in my hand. You're going to go home tonight and think about the way I stroked your cock and didn't let you come. And you're going to wonder when--or if--I'm going to let you put it inside me."

He went perfectly still. For once, he had absolutely nothing to say. I smiled.

"Don't look so surprised. I've known for quite some time."

He drew a breath.

"Alicia..."

"What?"

He shook his head.

"You're something else."

I laughed. "That's a very diplomatic response."

"I'm doing my best."

"I can see that."

I moved closer, stopping just outside his reach. "And let me tell you exactly what that would be like, if I decide to let you."

I held his gaze. "I'd take you to the couch. I'd make you sit first, then climb into your lap and kiss you until you were shaking. I'd tell you exactly how deep I wanted you. I'd make you go slow at first--so I could feel every inch of that thick cock stretching me open--until I was wet enough that you could hear it every time you moved. Then I'd tell you to fuck me harder. I'd keep my voice low so no one in the hallway would hear, but I'd still make you listen to every filthy thing I said. How good you felt. How long I'd been thinking about this. How I was going to come on your cock and then decide whether or not you were allowed to finish inside me. And the whole time you'd be doing exactly what I told you, because right now, James, that's what you want most. You want me to control you. And I want to do it."

When I finished, I waited. James was staring at me. I had never seen him quite so completely at a loss for words. I straightened my blouse, fastening the button I'd loosened, and picked up the file.

"Well," I said pleasantly. "I really should be going."

He stared at me.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"After that?"

"After that."

He shook his head. I couldn't help laughing.

"James, you look positively bewildered."

"I wonder why."

"Don't be sarcastic."

"You're telling me not to be sarcastic?"

I smiled. "Yes. I'm trying to preserve a pleasant memory."

He laughed despite himself. I turned toward the door.

"Good night, James."

"Alicia."

I stopped. "Yes?"

He seemed to be searching for something to say. I waited patiently. At last he shook his head.

"Nothing."

I gave him my prettiest smile. "That's what I thought."

Then I walked toward the doorway, unhurried and perfectly aware that he was watching me leave. Just before stepping into the corridor, I looked back. James was standing beside his desk, his hands at his sides, looking thoroughly bewildered--and still visibly hard. For one brief moment I thought he might call me back. He didn't. That pleased me almost as much as the kisses had.

"Try to get some work done," I told him.

He shook his head.

"You're kidding."

"Not at all."

"Alicia..."

I waited. He smiled helplessly. "Good night."

I returned his smile. "Good night, James."

Then I walked out. I didn't hurry toward the elevators. There was no reason to. I'd enjoyed myself, and I knew perfectly well that James had, too. More importantly, I knew something about him now that I hadn't known when I entered his office. He could be patient. He could be charming. He could hide his feelings behind jokes and professional courtesy. But he wasn't nearly as difficult to read as he imagined. And he responded beautifully when I took control. I pressed the elevator button.

For the first time all evening, I allowed myself a broad, unguarded smile. I suspected James would be thinking about those kisses--and the way I'd had his cock in my hand--for quite some time. I certainly intended to give him the opportunity. And when we met again, I was very curious to see whether he would manage to look me in the eye. I rather doubted it. I stood there for a long moment, listening to the soft mechanical hum of the elevator ascending. Then I turned around.

I walked back down the corridor, opened his door without knocking, and stepped inside. James was still standing near the desk. His cock was out again. His hand was wrapped around it, moving in short, desperate strokes. His head was tilted back slightly, eyes half-closed, mouth open. He hadn't even heard me come in. I closed the door quietly behind me.

"Stop."

His eyes flew open. His hand froze. For a second he looked almost panicked--then something hotter and darker flickered across his face when he realized I was watching him. I walked over slowly.

"I leave you alone for thirty seconds and this is what you do?"

He swallowed. "Alicia--"

"I said stop."

He released himself immediately. His cock remained hard, shiny at the tip, twitching once in the open air. A thin string of precome stretched from the head to his fingers. I stepped closer until I was right in front of him, then sank to my knees. I brought my face very close--close enough that he could feel my breath on the wet head of his cock. Close enough that if I leaned forward even a fraction, I could have licked the glistening tip.

"Edge yourself," I said softly. "Slowly. But you don't come. Not unless I say so."

His hand returned to his cock. He began stroking again, more carefully this time, watching my face the entire time. The wet sound of his fist moving over himself was quiet but unmistakable. I lifted one hand and lightly traced my nails along the underside of his balls, just enough pressure to make him shudder. I scratched gently, then tickled the sensitive skin with the tips of my nails while he stroked.

"That's it. Nice and slow. Feel how hard you are for me. Feel how much you want to come... and know that you can't."

I kept tickling him with my nails while he edged himself, his breathing growing rougher, his thighs tensing. Precome beaded and slid down the shaft under his fingers.

"Look at you," I murmured. "Standing here jerking off for me after I told you to put it away. You couldn't even wait. Do you understand how much this turns me on, James? Knowing I can walk out of this room and leave you so desperate you'll pull your cock out the second the door closes?"

He made a low, strained sound.

"Don't come," I reminded him. "Not yet."

I watched him for another long minute, letting the tension build, letting him get close and then slow down again under my quiet instruction. His hand trembled once. I scratched lightly under his balls again and he hissed.

Then I said, "Stop."

He stopped at once. I stood. I walked behind him and rested both hands on his shoulders. Then I slowly dragged my nails down his back through the thin fabric of his shirt--lightly enough that I didn't break the skin, firmly enough that he would feel the lines later. Four long, deliberate scratches from the tops of his shoulders to the small of his back. He shivered.

I leaned in and bit one of his nipples through the shirt--not hard enough to damage, but hard enough that he felt the sharp edge of my teeth and the sudden heat of my mouth. I bit again, a little harder, then switched to the other side and did the same. He hissed softly through his teeth.

"You're very quiet now," I said against his shoulder. "I like you like this. Listening. Waiting."

I stepped back in front of him. "Strip."

He looked at me for a second, then began undressing. Jacket. Tie. Shirt. Undershirt. Trousers. Socks. Everything. Until he was completely naked in the middle of his own office, cock still hard and wet, the faint red lines of my nails already visible across his back.

"Get on the floor," I said. "Lie down on your back."

He did. I stood over him and slowly began to undress myself. Blouse first. Skirt. Stockings. Bra. Underwear. I let him watch every piece come off. I made no effort to rush. By the time I was naked, his cock was leaking steadily onto his stomach and his eyes were dark with want. I climbed onto him and straddled his hips. The head of his cock brushed against my wet entrance. I was soaked--slick enough that the contact alone made a soft, wet sound.

"Do you feel how wet I am?" I asked. "That's from controlling you. From making you wait. From knowing you're going to do exactly what I tell you."

I reached down, guided him to my entrance, and sank down onto him in one slow, continuous motion. We both exhaled at the same time. He was thick enough that the stretch made me gasp softly. I felt every inch of him pushing into me--hot, hard, filling me completely until I was seated fully in his lap, my thighs pressed against his hips. I stayed still for a moment, adjusting, feeling him pulse inside me. The slight throb of his cock made my walls flutter around him.

Then I began to move. I rode him slowly at first, rolling my hips, taking him deep. The wet sound of my body accepting him filled the quiet office. I kept one hand on his chest, the other braced on the back of the couch. His hands explored my breasts and pinched my nipples.

"You don't come until I say," I told him. "No matter how good it feels. No matter how close you get. You're going to hold it for me."

He nodded, jaw tight, eyes locked on mine. I fucked him the way I wanted--sometimes slow and deep, grinding down so that the base of his cock pressed against my clit with every movement; sometimes faster when the angle made me shudder. I used him for my own pleasure without apology. My wetness coated his shaft and dripped onto his stomach. Every time I lifted and sank back down, the slick, filthy sound of it made me wetter.

The first orgasm built steadily. I ground down harder, circling my hips, feeling the thick head of him press against that perfect spot inside me. When I climaxed, I came with a soft, broken sound, my body tightening hard around his cock in rhythmic pulses. I didn't stop. I kept moving through the aftershocks, chasing the second one.

It came harder--sharper--leaving me trembling above him, breath ragged, thighs shaking. I clenched around him again and again as I rode it out, watching his face, watching him fight not to come while I used his cock. Only then did I look down at him properly.

"You've been so good," I said, still moving slowly, still full of him. "Holding back for me. Do you want to come now?"

"Yes," he managed, voice rough.

"You can come if you want to, James.."

I rode him through it, watching his face as the control finally snapped. He spilled inside me with a low, helpless groan, his hips jerking upward as he pulsed deep. I felt the hot flood of him, the way his cock twitched and emptied. I kept moving until he was spent and oversensitive, then finally stilled, still seated on him, feeling the wet heat of his come beginning to leak out around his softening cock.

I stayed on top of him for a long moment, looking down at his flushed face. Then I spoke quietly.

"Even though I told you you could come," I said, "I didn't actually want you to. Not yet. I'm a little disappointed, James."

His eyes searched mine.

"The only way you can make it up to me," I continued, "is to clean me. With your tongue. Properly."

I lifted off him carefully. A thick trickle of his come slid down my inner thigh. I moved up the couch until I was kneeling over his face, thighs on either side of his head. He didn't hesitate.

He licked me clean with slow, thorough strokes--tasting both of us, cleaning every trace of his come from between my legs. His tongue was warm and careful at first, then more deliberate as I rested a hand in his hair and guided him. I made him take his time. When he dragged the flat of his tongue from my entrance up over my clit, I made a soft sound of approval. When he licked deeper, collecting the last of himself from inside me, I held him there a moment longer.

When I was satisfied, I moved off him and stood. I looked down at him still lying naked on the couch, marked and thoroughly used, my wetness still shining on his mouth.

"I own you now," I said simply. "You know that, don't you?"

He nodded once, still breathing hard.

"I may let you have me again," I continued. "But I won't be as gentle next time. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

I gathered my clothes and dressed slowly while he watched. When I was fully put back together, I leaned down and kissed him hard--deep and claiming, Tasting his come inh his own mouth and laughing at what I could make him do. It was the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt about who had been in control. Then I straightened, picked up the file, and walked to the door.

I paused with my hand on the handle and looked back at him still lying there, naked and marked and thoroughly owned.

"Get some rest, James. And get dressed. There are other people in the office."

I opened the door and left without waiting for an answer. I left the door open half hoping he'd get caught. This time I didn't stop in the corridor. I went straight to the elevators, pressed the button, and allowed myself one last private smile as the doors closed. I had enjoyed myself. And I already knew I would enjoy him again. On my terms.