Office Desk Fucks the Married Wife

The city lights twinkled like scattered diamonds through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the thirty-second floor as Emily Hargrove smoothed her tight charcoal pencil skirt for the third time. At twenty-eight, the curvy blonde assistant had long ago perfected the art of looking professional while still turning heads. Tonight, however, the office was nearly empty. Only the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional click of her heels broke the silence.

Marcus Washington sat behind his massive oak desk, reviewing the quarterly reports she had prepared. At forty-two, the tall, powerfully built Black executive radiated the kind of commanding presence that made junior staff nervous and female staff… something else entirely. His crisp white shirt stretched across broad shoulders and a chest that spoke of disciplined weight training. The deep timbre of his voice had always sent a secret shiver down Emily’s spine, one she had tried for two years to ignore.

“These numbers are flawless, Emily,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair. His dark eyes lifted from the pages and traveled slowly over her body. “But then again, so are you.”

The compliment landed heavily between them. Emily felt heat bloom across her cheeks. She stood beside the desk, close enough to smell his expensive cologne and the warm, masculine scent beneath it.