It doesn’t hurt that he’s staring at me as if I will deliver him to the Promised Land if I abide by his wishes, all hooded eyes and harsh breaths and strong fingers closing over his hard dick.

I twist my body, dropping my palms to the carpet so I’m on all fours, and I start to crawl—cautiously, because crawling is not second nature to me, funnily enough, and it’s even tougher when the pointy toes of your new shoes are catching in the thick pile of the carpet every time you move. The logistical challenges are a relief, partially absolving me from fixating on how my rear view must look in this flimsy thong as I channel my inner Baby from Dirty Dancing and attempt to slink away from Brendan in a seductive, feline manner.

‘God, yeah, that’s it,’ he rasps behind me. His validation is an instant shot of dopamine to my insides. ‘Oh, fuck. Look at the way your arse moves when you crawl. Keep going. Just like that.’ I sense him approaching and stop when I reach the centre of the room, forcing myself to arch my back a little so my bottom sticks out.

He must squat behind me, because he slides his knuckles down the now-damp strip of my thong, and my nerve endings dance to attention as, deeper inside, my core clenches in anticipation. This couldn’t feel filthier—parading around on my hands and knees in gifted lingerie for a guy who’s bought my services.

There’s a rip of foil, followed by some heavy breathing as he wrestles the condom on. Then Brendan pushes my thong to one side, exposing me properly, and teases me with his fingertips.

‘Would you look at that?’ he mutters as his fingers move noisily through my wetness. ‘Absolutely fucking drenched, already. So you like sucking me off in my office then, hmm?’

‘Y-yes,’ I manage.

‘That is very good news. I’m such a lucky bastard. Now, you’d better stay nice and quiet like we discussed.’ He steps between my legs on his knees, and I widen for him, bracing on my hands for balance. I hope he’ll fit. I may be wet, but it’ll be seriously deep like this.

Seriously deep, and seriously dirty.

No wonder he said it was his favourite position.

Then he’s pushing in, and—God—it’s so big and invasive, stretching me as he goes, but it’s a relief, too, to know how fully he’ll fill me up. All those fancy new presents and lingering touches and charming, cheeky whispers earlier, and it’s all led to this: my new boss getting ready to rail the living daylights out of me on his office floor.

‘Fuck, you’re tight,’ he says with a disbelieving laugh. ‘I’d almost forgotten how—bloody hell, love.’