Hotline Desires

Seven

The city lights blurred past the tinted windows as Victor’s car purred down Wilshire. I shifted in the leather seat, thighs pressed together, trying not to think about how raw and sensitive I still was. My skirt was rumpled, my lipstick smeared, and I was far too aware of his scent still clinging to my skin.

Victor sat beside me, composed as if nothing had happened. Jacket back on, shirt smoothed out, hair only slightly mussed. You’d never know he’d just f****d me hard enough to make me forget my own name.

He didn’t speak. Neither did I. The silence was thick, heavy, but not uncomfortable. More… charged.

When the car slowed to a stop outside my apartment building, Victor turned his head, those dark eyes pinning me in place.

“Goodnight, Jade.”

It was so calm. So final. Like the last thirty minutes in the backseat hadn’t happened.

“Goodnight,” I muttered, fumbling with the door handle and practically leaping out before my legs remembered they were still shaky. The blast of cool air was a relief. I didn’t look back as the car slid away into the night.

But the second I made it inside my apartment, my body collapsed against the door.

“Holy shit.”

I dragged my hands down my face. My heart was still racing, my body still buzzing. But beneath the haze of satisfaction, something twisted tight in my stomach.

This was my boss.

I didn’t like Victor, not really. Sure, he was ridiculously good-looking, powerful, smooth, and knew how to use his hands. But romantically? He wasn’t what I wanted. At all. And now… God, the office was going to feel like walking into a minefield.

My brain screamed for clarity. And when I needed clarity, I called the only person who wouldn’t let me off easy.

“Chloe,” I hissed into the phone the second she picked up. “Get your ass to my apartment. Now.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice was muffled, music in the background. “It’s midnight, Jade. Are you dying?”

“Yes. Emotional death. Get here.”

A long groan. “If this is about another one of your callers asking you to ‘meow like a kitten,’ I swear—”

“It’s not. This is worse. So much worse. Just—come.”

I hung up before she could argue.

Twenty minutes later, there was a frantic knock on my door. Chloe breezed in with a messy bun, sweatpants, and her usual energy that could power half the city. She tossed her bag on the couch and gave me a once-over.

“You look like you just got railed.”

“…I did.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wait. WHAT?!”

I groaned, burying my face in a pillow. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Oh, you’re saying it.” Chloe yanked the pillow away and sat cross-legged on the couch beside me. “Who. The hell. f****d you senseless, and why am I only just hearing about it?”

I hesitated, then whispered. “Victor.”

Her reaction was instant. She shrieked, grabbing me by the shoulders. “VICTOR COLE?! As in your boss Victor? As in Victor with the stupidly perfect suits and brooding CEO energy?!”

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, slapping her arm.

She was practically vibrating. “No. No way. You did not just bang Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Intimidating. Tell me everything.”

I collapsed backward, staring at the ceiling. “We went for drinks. It was… intense. And then it just—happened. In the car. It was rough, it was hot, and I swear I almost blacked out. But now I feel like an i***t because—”

“Because he’s your boss?” Chloe supplied, eyes gleaming with way too much glee.

“Yes!” I groaned. “And because I don’t even like him like that. Not… romantically. It’s just… s*x. Really good s*x. But now I have to see him at work tomorrow, and it’s going to be so awkward.”

Chloe fell back against the couch, laughing. “Oh my God, Jade. This is straight out of a spicy office romance novel.”

“Don’t,” I warned, pointing a finger at her.

“I’m serious! The hot, broody boss who everyone secretly fantasizes about, and you’re the one who actually did it? Iconic. Legendary. I bow to you.” She mimed worshipping at my feet.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of me. That was the thing about Chloe—she always made the world feel a little less heavy.

“But really,” she said, sobering a bit, “are you okay with it? I mean, do you regret it?”

I chewed on my lip, thinking. “No. I liked it. A lot. But… I just don’t want it to mess up work. You know how I feel about keeping things separate.”

“Then keep it separate,” she said simply, reaching for the bag of chips she’d brought. “One night doesn’t have to mean anything more. You’re in control of that.”

I sighed, letting her words sink in. Maybe she was right. Maybe this didn’t have to be a disaster.

But deep down, as I replayed the way Victor’s hand had wrapped around my throat, the way his voice had broken when he groaned my name—

I knew this wasn’t the last time.

-----

The office looked the same as always the next morning—sleek glass panels, muted gray walls, the hum of chatter and clicking keyboards. But to me, everything felt different. Every time Victor walked past, crisp in his tailored suit, I swore I felt the ghost of his hands on my skin.

I kept my head down, forcing myself to act normal. Coffee runs. Client calls. Updating files. Pretending I hadn’t spent last night pressed against his car window, moaning his name.

And he? He was the picture of composure. Cold, professional, unreadable. No lingering looks. No knowing smirks. Just Mr. Cole, the boss.

Fine. Perfect. That’s what I wanted too.

By lunch, I almost believed it. By five o’clock, I was certain we’d survived the day without incident. The office had started to thin out, people grabbing their bags, calling goodbyes. I reached for my coat, ready to escape.

That’s when Victor’s voice cut through the air.

“Jade. Stay behind.”

My stomach dropped.

The others glanced between us, curiosity flickering, but Victor’s tone left no room for questions. One by one, they trickled out until it was just me, perched stiffly at my desk, and him, standing in his office doorway.

“Bring the Mitchell file,” he added, as though this was business. Purely business.

I clutched the folder like a shield and followed him inside.

The door clicked shut. Then the blinds. The soft swish of slats cutting out the world. My pulse spiked.

He turned, eyes darker than last night, jaw tight. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been working,” I said quickly, holding the file out between us. “Here—”

He ignored it. Closed the distance in three slow, deliberate steps until my back hit the edge of his desk.

“Don’t play games, Jade.” His voice was low, a growl that sent a shiver down my spine. “You know damn well what I want.”

And just like that, the air snapped.

The folder slipped from my hands, scattering papers across the desk, but I didn’t care. His mouth was on mine, rough and claiming, teeth clashing against my lips. I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, one hand fisting in my hair, the other yanking me against him.

“Victor—” I managed, though it came out as a moan when he pressed me harder into the wood.

“Say my name like that again.” His breath was hot against my cheek, his hand sliding under my blouse, fingers skimming the edge of my bra.

I did. And he rewarded me by lifting me onto the desk, pushing the mess of papers aside, spreading my knees with a force that made my core clench.

There was nothing patient about him. His hands were everywhere—gripping, tugging, tearing at my clothes. I barely had time to breathe before he had me half-undressed, my skirt bunched up around my waist, panties shoved aside.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he muttered, lining himself up. “Couldn’t get the sound of you out of my head.”

Then he thrust in. Hard. Deep. All at once.

A strangled cry ripped from my throat. My hands clawed at the desk for balance, but he caught my wrists, pinning them above my head as he pounded into me.

“God—Victor—”

“That’s it,” he groaned, pace relentless. “Louder.”

The desk rattled beneath us, the blinds shuddering with each sharp thrust. Every sound felt dangerous, risky—someone could walk past, hear, know. And the danger only made it hotter.

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, deeper, biting into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He growled at the sting, f*****g me harder, until the world blurred and I broke apart beneath him.

My orgasm hit sharp and sudden, tearing through me with brutal force. I shook, shuddered, cried out, and still he drove into me, chasing his own release until he spilled deep inside, dragging out my climax until I collapsed against the desk, boneless.

Silence fell. Heavy. Breathless.

brushing his thumb across the reddened skin he’d left behind. His gaze lingered on me for a beat too long—dark, unreadable—before he stepped back, tucking himself in with cold precision.

“Stay late tomorrow,” he said, voice steady, as though nothing had just happened. “We have more work to do.”

And just like that, the walls were back up. The boss mask firmly in place.

I sat there, skirt still hiked up, body trembling, and realized with a sinking certainty—

I was in deep trouble.

I fixed myself up in silence, tugging my blouse together, smoothing my hair with shaking fingers. My heart hadn’t slowed; my body was still humming, alive from what we’d just done. But my mind? My mind screamed that this was dangerous. Messy. A disaster waiting to happen.

When I finally turned to face him, his eyes were on me again. Patient. Expectant.

“This can’t keep happening, Victor,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I like the s*x—I won’t lie about that. God, I really like it. But that’s all it is. s*x. Nothing more.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming even without touching me.

“Then let it be more,” he said simply. “Go out with me. Date me. Let me show you what it could be.”

I blinked at him, stunned. A date? With Victor Cole? The man who had just railed me senseless against his desk like he owned me?

“Victor…” I shook my head, firm this time. “I don’t see you that way. At all. You’re my boss. And even if you weren’t, I wouldn’t date you.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but I didn’t waver.

“I enjoyed tonight,” I admitted, adjusting my skirt, making sure he heard every word. “Hell, I might even enjoy it again if I’m drunk enough or stupid enough. But don’t confuse great s*x with feelings. Because I don’t have any for you.”

The silence stretched, heavy, sharp.

Finally, he gave a tight smile, masking whatever disappointment or frustration was brewing underneath. “Think about it anyway.”

I grabbed my bag, refusing to answer, and walked out before he could push again.

And for the first time since last night, I felt like I had control back—

even if my body was still trembling with the memory of him.