Confessions of an Unprofessional Assistant
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- Parts 4
MatureOngoing29m
Last published Fri, Oct 24, 2025
He's twice my age, emotionally unavailable, and definitely the last man I should want.
But when your boss is Sterling Reed - billionaire CEO, cold as ice, and fine enough to ruin your life - "inappropriate thoughts" come with the job description.
I was hired to organize his schedule, manage his emails, and occasionally chauffeur his one-night stands home at 2 a.m.
But lately, I can't stop imagining what it would feel like to be the one he calls at 2 a.m. - for something a little less professional.
My name is Elara Quinn. And these are the confessions of a wildly inappropriate assistant.
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The office was quiet, I pressed against him on his lap until he shifted me onto the desk, shoving papers and pens aside to make space. He held me steady from behind, hands gripping my hips as he thrust into me. My nails dug into the wood, and I gasped, every movement making me burn with heat. "You're so tight," he groaned, voice low and rough, teeth grazing my shoulder as he pressed deeper. I moaned, chest flush against the desk, rocking back instinctively. "So good... only for me," he whispered, lips brushing my neck, fingers digging into my waist, voice thick with need. I shivered at his words, pressing back into him, feeling every pulse, every movement of his body against mine. "I'm so close..." he muttered, each thrust deeper, harder, every groan dragging me higher. A knock on the door made me freeze, but he didn't stop. "I'll be there in a minute," he told to the person at the door, one hand lightly pressing my mouth. "Quiet, or there'll be consequences later." I whimpered, hips pressing against him, His voice cut through, De Sousa series 1 "You feel so good... so fucking good Bellisima"
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