Chapter 1: The First Glance
I’m sitting at my desk, pretending to crunch numbers, but my eyes are traitors. They’ve locked onto her—Samantha, the new marketing exec with a rack that could stop traffic. Her blouse is a cruel tease, barely containing those massive tits as she strides past my cubicle. My mind’s a filthy whirlwind. *Goddamn, what I wouldn’t give to bury my face in those curves. Rip that silk right off and see if they’re as perfect as they look.* I shift in my seat, heat pooling between my thighs. I’m not some blushing intern; I’m fucking ravenous, and I know what I want.
She pauses by the coffee machine, hips cocked, and I’m done for. I stand, smoothing my pencil skirt, and saunter over, my heels clicking with purpose. I’m not here to play coy. I’m here to hunt.
“Morning, Samantha,” I purr, leaning against the counter, my gaze flicking to her chest before meeting her eyes. “That blouse is criminal. You trying to give the whole office a heart attack?”
She smirks, arching a brow, her voice dripping with confidence. “Only the ones worth shocking, Claire. You look like you could handle a little danger. Am I wrong?”
I laugh, low and sharp, stepping closer. “Oh, honey, I’m the danger. But I’m curious—how much trouble are those curves packing? I’ve got a theory they’re lethal.”
Her eyes glint, predatory, as she sets her coffee down. “Care to test that theory? I don’t break easy, and I’m not shy about proving a point.”
My pulse hammers. *Fuck, she’s bold.* I lean in, my breath brushing her ear. “Meet me in the supply closet in five. Let’s see if you can back up that mouth with something... harder.”
She doesn’t flinch, just grins like a wolf. “Five minutes, Claire. Don’t keep me waiting, or I’ll start without you.”
I watch her walk away, that ass swaying like a goddamn invitation. My pussy’s already wet, aching, just thinking about what’s coming. I’m not some damsel; I’m a fucking queen, and I’m about to claim my prize. Back at my desk, I count the seconds, my mind racing. *I’m gonna pin her against the wall, tear that blouse open, and suck those tits ‘til she’s panting. I want her dripping for me, begging for my touch.*
Four minutes. I’m sweating now, horny as hell, imagining her fingers on me, her mouth on mine. I stand, smoothing my skirt again, feeling the heat between my legs. The supply closet isn’t just a room—it’s a battlefield, and I’m ready to dominate. As I head down the hall, I know this is just the beginning. Whatever happens next, it’s gonna be explosive.
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