CEO's Eager Appraisal Reward

Petra leaned back in the leather chair behind her wide walnut desk, the late afternoon light from the floor-to-ceiling windows gilding the sharp lines of her tailored charcoal suit. At twenty-eight she had built the firm from a scrappy consultancy into a powerhouse, and she wore the authority easily—shoulders squared, dark hair pulled into a sleek low knot, full mouth curved in the knowing half-smile that had unsettled more than one boardroom. Across from her sat Marisol, twenty-four, marketing manager, knees pressed neatly together in a cream silk blouse and pencil skirt that somehow still looked like an invitation. For months the glances between them had grown longer, hotter, loaded with the kind of silent promises that left both women shifting in their seats during strategy meetings.

“Your Q3 campaign numbers are exceptional,” Petra said, voice low and rich as she flipped a final page on the appraisal tablet. “Engagement up forty-one percent. Client retention through the roof. You didn’t just meet the targets, Marisol. You rewrote them.”

Marisol’s cheeks flushed a pretty rose. She tucked a loose strand of chestnut hair behind one ear, the gesture slow enough that Petra’s gaze tracked the line of her throat. “Thank you. I’ve wanted to impress you. Not just the board. You.”

Petra set the tablet aside and steepled her fingers. The air between them thickened. “We’ve been circling this for months, haven’t we? The way you watch my mouth when I speak. The way I keep inventing reasons to call you into this office after hours. Tell me what you want as your reward for this performance. Be honest. I’ve already decided the raise and the bonus are yours either way. This is separate. Personal.”

Marisol’s breath caught. She met Petra’s eyes without flinching, pupils blown wide with pure want. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the Christmas party when you brushed past me in the corridor and I felt how soft your breast was against my arm. I want to be rewarded by you. Right now. However you’ll let me.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Petra’s face. She rose from the chair with deliberate grace, the leather whispering. “Then watch.”

She rounded the desk until she stood only an arm’s length from Marisol’s chair. Fingers went first to the single button of her suit jacket. It parted with a soft click, revealing the cream silk shell beneath that clung to the heavy curve of her breasts. Petra shrugged the jacket off and draped it carefully over the back of her chair, never breaking eye contact. Next came the shell. She peeled it upward, the fabric whispering over her skin, until she stood bare from the waist up except for a delicate black lace bra that framed the full, pale weight of her tits. Dark nipples already peaked against the sheer cups.

Marisol made a small, hungry sound.

Petra reached behind herself, unhooked the bra, and let it slide down her arms. Her breasts settled free—round, soft, tipped with tight brown nipples that tightened further under the cool office air and Marisol’s open stare. She thumbed the side zipper of her trousers, pushed them down over the swell of her hips, stepped out of the tailored wool and her heels in one smooth motion. Black lace panties followed. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband, dragged them down her long thighs, and kicked them aside. Completely naked now, Petra stood in the center of the private executive office, legs slightly apart, the neat dark triangle of her cunt already glistening at the top of her thighs. She ran one palm slowly down her own stomach, stopping just above the curls, and spoke in a voice gone husky.

“You’ve earned a personal reward, Marisol. Would you like it? Would you like to put that eager mouth on me?”

“Yes,” Marisol breathed, already sliding out of her chair. “God, yes. Please.”

She dropped to her knees on the thick Persian rug without hesitation, silk skirt pooling around her. Petra stepped closer until the soft hair of her mound brushed Marisol’s lips. Marisol looked up once more, seeking and finding the open permission in Petra’s gaze, then leaned in.

The first lick was long and flat, from the base of Petra’s slit all the way up to the swollen clit. Petra’s breath left her in a low moan. Marisol’s hands came up to cradle the firm cheeks of Petra’s ass, holding her steady while she licked again, slower this time, savoring the clean salt-sweet taste that flooded her tongue. She parted the slick folds with the tip of her tongue, delved deeper, fucking into Petra’s cunt with wet, eager strokes before sealing her lips around the hard little pearl and sucking.

“That’s it,” Petra praised, voice thick. One hand settled in Marisol’s hair, not pushing, just stroking the soft strands as Marisol worked. “Look at you. So hungry for me. You’ve been thinking about this every time you walked into my office, haven’t you? Sucking your CEO’s cunt like the good girl you are.”

Marisol hummed her agreement around Petra’s clit, the vibration drawing another shaky exhale from above. She licked in earnest now—broad strokes over the outer lips, quick flicks against the clit, then long, greedy plunges of her tongue into the clenching heat. Petra’s thighs trembled. Wetness painted Marisol’s chin. She pulled back just enough to speak against the slick flesh, words muffled and worshipful.

“You taste better than I imagined. Been wanting this for months. Wanting to get on my knees and show you how much I need it.”

“Then show me,” Petra murmured, hips rolling gently against Marisol’s mouth. “Suck me properly. Make me feel how badly you want your reward.”

Marisol obeyed with enthusiasm that bordered on reverence. She sealed her lips around Petra’s clit again and sucked hard, alternating the pressure with soft, wet lashes of her tongue. One hand slid around to stroke the insides of Petra’s thighs; the other stayed cupped under her ass, fingers digging lightly into the soft flesh as she pulled Petra closer, burying her face deeper. The sounds filled the quiet office—wet, rhythmic, filthy. Petra’s free hand braced on the edge of the desk behind her. Her head tipped back, throat working as she let the pleasure climb.

“Fuck, Marisol. Your mouth—so warm, so greedy. Keep going. Lick right there. Yes. Just like that.”

Marisol’s own cunt throbbed inside her damp panties. She pressed her thighs together for friction while she worked, never slowing. She dragged her tongue in slow circles around the entrance, then pushed inside again, fucking Petra with it while her nose nudged the swollen clit. Petra’s fingers tightened in her hair, guiding without force, and Marisol followed every silent cue—sucking harder when Petra’s breath hitched, softening when the hand stroked praise down the back of her neck.

“You’re perfect like this,” Petra whispered. “On your knees for me after that flawless review. I can feel how wet you are just from tasting me. I can smell it. After you finish making me come on your tongue, I’m going to peel every scrap of clothing off you and lay you out on this rug. I’m going to kiss you until you forget your own name, then rub my cunt against yours until we both shake. And when you’re dripping and begging, I’m going to finger that tight little pussy and then play with your ass with the nice thick dildo I keep locked in the bottom drawer. Does that sound like the reward you want?”

Marisol pulled off just long enough to answer, lips shiny, voice wrecked with lust. “Yes. All of it. Please. I want every part. I want you to take me apart right here.”

She dove back in, sucking Petra’s clit between soft lips and lashing it with the flat of her tongue. Petra’s hips stuttered. The hand in Marisol’s hair tightened in pure pleasure. Wetness ran down Marisol’s chin and dripped onto the cream silk of her blouse. She didn’t care. She licked deeper, faster, chasing the tremble she could feel building in Petra’s strong thighs, the way the CEO’s breath had gone ragged and open.

Petra looked down at the beautiful sight of her marketing manager kneeling naked-eyed and devoted between her legs, and the mutual heat that had simmered for months finally roared free. Marisol’s tongue worked with single-minded hunger, and Petra stroked her hair again, voice dropping to a husky promise that left the next act hanging open and aching between them.

“Don’t stop. Make me come on that pretty tongue first. Then I’m going to undress every inch of you and show you exactly how thoroughly a CEO rewards the woman who’s earned it.”

Marisol’s tongue never faltered. She sealed her lips tighter around Petra’s clit and sucked with long, pulling draws while her tongue flicked the swollen tip in quick, relentless circles. Petra’s thighs locked hard around Marisol’s head. A raw cry tore from the CEO’s throat as her orgasm slammed through her—cunt pulsing hard against Marisol’s mouth, thick wetness flooding the younger woman’s tongue and chin. Petra’s hips jerked once, twice, riding the waves while her fingers stroked Marisol’s hair in open gratitude.

“Fuck—yes—just like that. Take it. Drink every drop,” Petra gasped, still trembling as the last spasms rolled through her. Marisol licked her clean with slow, devoted strokes, humming softly at the taste, until Petra’s hand gently tugged her up.

“Your turn,” Petra said, voice rough with spent pleasure and fresh hunger. “Stand up for me. I want every piece of clothing off you.”

Marisol rose on unsteady legs, silk blouse already damp at the collar. Petra’s fingers went to the buttons first, popping them one by one with deliberate care, peeling the cream fabric open to bare Marisol’s lace-covered breasts. She slid the blouse down Marisol’s arms and let it fall. The pencil skirt came next—zipper rasped, fabric pushed over flared hips until it pooled at Marisol’s feet. Petra knelt just long enough to roll the damp panties down Marisol’s thighs, pressing a soft kiss to the neat dark curls above her slit before rising again. Bra last: she unhooked it, freed the full, flushed breasts, and tossed the scrap aside. Marisol stood completely naked now, twenty-four and glowing, nipples tight, thighs already shining with her own arousal.

“Look at you,” Petra murmured, palms gliding down Marisol’s sides. “Every inch earned. Come here.”

They sank together onto the thick Persian rug. Petra guided Marisol onto her back among the soft wool, then stretched out over her. Their mouths met in a deep, sensual kiss—slow at first, lips parting, tongues sliding wet and deliberate. Petra tasted herself on Marisol’s tongue and groaned into it, kissing harder, deeper, until Marisol’s hands fisted in her hair and pulled her closer. Breasts pressed soft and heavy together. Hips rolled in instinctive rhythm. The kiss turned filthy and open-mouthed, Petra sucking Marisol’s lower lip, then delving again, while their thighs slotted and the slick heat of their cunts brushed.

Petra broke the kiss only long enough to shift higher, straddling one of Marisol’s thighs and lowering her own wet folds directly against Marisol’s. “Feel how ready I still am for you,” she whispered. She began to grind—slow circles at first, clit dragging over clit, slick lips parting and sliding. Marisol arched up to meet her, both of them already dripping, the wet sounds of their pussies kissing loud in the quiet office.

“God, Petra—harder,” Marisol begged, hands gripping Petra’s ass to pull her down. They rocked faster, urgent now, grinding with raw need. Petra’s heavier breasts swayed with each thrust. Marisol’s nipples scraped Petra’s chest. The friction built hot and electric; their clits caught and rubbed, swollen and slick, until both women were panting open-mouthed against each other’s lips, kissing between gasps. Petra rolled her hips in tight figure-eights, smearing their juices together, the rug soft beneath Marisol’s bare back. Marisol’s thighs trembled; she chased every grind, cunt fluttering already.

Petra slowed just enough to slip a hand between them. Two fingers parted Marisol’s soaked folds and sank deep in one smooth thrust. Marisol cried out, hips bucking. Petra fucked her with firm, curling strokes, palm grinding her clit on every inward plunge while their mouths stayed locked in wet, messy kisses.

“You’re so tight and hot around my fingers,” Petra growled against her lips. “Come for me. Let me feel it.” She curled harder, stroking that ridged spot inside while her thumb rubbed relentless circles on the swollen clit. Marisol shattered with a loud, raw shout—cunt clamping down hard on Petra’s fingers, juices flooding over her hand as her body arched clear off the rug. Petra worked her through it, fingers still pumping, kissing her through every pulse until Marisol slumped boneless and gasping.

“Not finished,” Petra promised. She reached to the bottom drawer of the desk without leaving the rug, pulled free a sleek, thick silicone dildo and a small bottle of lube. Marisol watched with glassy, eager eyes, legs still spread wide in open invitation.

“Yes,” Marisol breathed before Petra even asked. “I want it. Please—use it on me. I need your fingers and that in my ass.”

Petra slicked the dildo generously, then coated her fingers again. She eased Marisol’s knees higher, kissing the inside of one thigh. Two fingers slid back into Marisol’s dripping cunt while the blunt, lubed tip of the dildo pressed gently against her tight rear entrance. “Breathe for me. Push out. Tell me if you want more.”

“More,” Marisol begged instantly. “All of it. Fill me.”

Petra pressed steady and slow. The head popped past the tight ring; Marisol moaned long and low, hips tilting to take it. Inch by slick inch Petra fed the thick shaft into her ass until it was buried deep. Then she began to move—fingers stroking Marisol’s g-spot in time with the slow, deep thrusts of the dildo, free hand circling the younger woman’s clit with firm, wet pressure.

“Fuck—Petra—so full—” Marisol’s voice broke into broken cries. Every thrust of the dildo stretched her open while Petra’s fingers curled and rubbed inside her pussy, clit under constant assault. The dual sensation wrecked her. Petra fucked her ass with smooth, claiming strokes, twisting the dildo gently on the withdraw, driving it home again while her fingers scissored and pumped. Marisol’s second climax hit like a wave—body shaking violently, ass clenching hard around the thick toy, cunt gushing over Petra’s hand as a raw, wordless scream tore from her throat. Petra kept the rhythm steady through every spasm, stroking her clit and working both holes until Marisol collapsed trembling, tears of pure overload shining at the corners of her eyes.

Petra eased the dildo free with care, set it aside, and gathered Marisol close on the rug. She kissed her temples, her cheeks, the damp hair at her forehead while Marisol’s breathing slowly evened.

When Marisol could speak she pulled Petra down for a long, lingering thank-you kiss—soft, grateful, full of heat still banked. “That was everything I wanted,” she whispered against Petra’s mouth. “More than. Let me finish what I started.”

She urged Petra onto her back on the thick rug and settled between her thighs again. This time the oral was slow and worshipful. Marisol licked long stripes up the slick, swollen folds, swirling her tongue over Petra’s still-sensitive clit, then sealed her lips and sucked with deep, rhythmic pulls. Petra’s hands carded gently through Marisol’s hair. Marisol hummed, tongue working in lazy circles, then faster as Petra’s hips began to rise. She slid two fingers into Petra’s cunt and curled them while she sucked, matching the earlier rhythm Petra had given her. Petra’s second orgasm built lower and hotter; when it broke she came hard against Marisol’s tongue, thighs clamping, a deep groan rolling out of her as her juices spilled fresh and sweet into Marisol’s waiting mouth. Marisol licked her through every aftershock, soft and thorough, until Petra tugged her up for another lazy, sated kiss.

They stayed tangled a few minutes longer, trading soft touches and quiet laughter, before rising. Clothes were gathered from the floor and the desk chair. Petra helped Marisol back into the cream blouse and skirt, smoothing the fabric with lingering palms; Marisol returned the favor, fastening Petra’s bra, sliding the silk shell over her head, holding the trousers open so the CEO could step in. Once dressed they stood close in the golden late light, hair slightly mussed, lips swollen, the office still smelling of sex and perfume.

Petra’s smile was slow and thoroughly satisfied. Marisol answered it with the same look.

“Next month,” Petra said, voice low and already warming with fresh plans. “Same time. Formal appraisal follow-up. I’ll have the numbers ready… and the drawer unlocked again. I want you on your knees first thing, then I want that pretty ass stretched open for me while I ride your face. Think you can clear your evening calendar?”

Marisol’s eyes lit. She leaned in for one last brush of lips. “Already cleared. I’ll be counting the days—and thinking about exactly how I’m going to make you come twice before you even get the dildo out.”

Petra’s hand rested briefly at the small of Marisol’s back as she walked her to the door, already mapping the next hour-long “review” in vivid, filthy detail behind her calm CEO smile.