His After Hours Obsession

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I woke to the feel of a hard, warm body pressed against my back and a large hand already sliding between my thighs.

Damian’s voice was low and rough with sleep against my ear.

“You’re already wet again.”

I made a soft, helpless sound as two of his fingers pushed inside me without warning, curling slowly. My body was still sore from the night before, but the ache only made everything sharper. He stroked me lazily, like he had all the time in the world, while his c**k rested heavy and hard against the curve of my ass.

“Damian…”

“Shh.” His free hand came up and covered one of my breasts, thumb brushing over the sensitive n****e. “I’m not done using this pretty cunt yet.”

He withdrew his fingers, shifted my top leg forward, and guided himself into me from behind in one slow, deep thrust. A broken moan left my throat. He felt even bigger like this—thicker, heavier—stretching me open while I was still half-asleep and completely at his mercy.

Damian f****d me in long, controlled strokes, one arm locked around my waist to keep me exactly where he wanted. Every time he bottomed out, a soft, filthy sound left him, like he couldn’t believe how good I felt. His mouth found the side of my neck, biting gently, then harder, marking me.

“You’re going to go to work with my c*m inside you,” he murmured. “Every time you sit down today, you’re going to remember who you belong to now.”

The words pushed me over the edge. I came with a shaky cry, clenching around him. Damian followed soon after, burying himself deep and groaning against my skin as he filled me again.

For a while we stayed like that, joined, breathing hard. Then he slowly pulled out and rolled me onto my back. His eyes moved over my body in the soft morning light—the bruises on my hips, the faint bite marks on my neck, the mess between my thighs—and pure possessive satisfaction crossed his face.

“Shower,” he ordered. “With me.”

The shower in his master bathroom was large enough for four people. He washed me himself, soaping every inch of my skin with deliberate care that somehow felt just as intimate as the s*x. When his hand slipped between my legs again, cleaning the evidence of what he’d done, I whimpered. He only smirked and pressed a slow kiss to my wet shoulder.

By the time we were dressed, the dynamic had shifted into something quieter but no less intense. Damian chose a soft black blouse and a different pencil skirt for me from the small selection of clothes he had somehow already arranged. He watched me dress with dark, satisfied eyes.

In the car on the way to the office, his hand rested high on my thigh again, fingers occasionally stroking the bare skin just under the hem of my skirt.

Just before we reached the building, he leaned over and spoke against my ear, voice low enough that only I could hear.

“Today you will act professional. You will call me Mr. Vale in front of everyone. But every time our eyes meet, I want you to remember how you sounded last night when I was buried inside you.”

A fresh pulse of heat went through me.

I swallowed and whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

Damian’s mouth curved into the faintest, darkest smile.

“Good girl.”

The elevator doors opened onto the forty-second floor, and just like that, we were back in the real world.

Except nothing felt the same anymore.

The entire day felt like slow, deliberate torture.

Every time I walked into Damian’s office with a file or a signed document, his eyes found mine and held them just a second too long. No one else would have noticed. To the rest of the floor he was the same cold, controlled CEO he had always been. But I felt the weight of his attention like a physical touch.

By mid-afternoon my body was already aching for him again.

I was standing beside his desk, waiting while he reviewed a contract, when his hand suddenly slid under my skirt from behind. I froze. Claire was only a few meters away on the other side of the glass wall, speaking on the phone. Damian’s fingers traced the edge of my panties, then slipped beneath the lace and stroked through the wetness he found there.

My breath caught.

He didn’t look at me. He continued reading the contract with one hand while the other slowly pushed two fingers inside me, curling them in a way that made my knees threaten to buckle. I gripped the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles turned white.

Damian’s voice remained perfectly calm.

“These numbers need adjusting before the end of the day, Miss Moretti.”

“Yes… Mr. Vale,” I managed, voice slightly unsteady.

He pressed deeper, thumb brushing my c**t in a slow circle. A soft, broken sound almost escaped me. His eyes finally lifted to mine—dark, amused, completely in control.

“Something wrong?”

“No, sir,” I whispered.

He withdrew his fingers slowly, then brought them to his mouth and tasted me without breaking eye contact. Heat flooded my face. He returned to the contract as if nothing had happened.

“You’re dismissed… for now.”

I walked out of his office on shaking legs, thighs pressed tightly together, already soaked and desperate.

That evening he kept me late again.

The moment the last employee left the floor, Damian locked his office door and pointed to the space in front of his desk.

“On your knees.”

I dropped without hesitation.

He freed himself, already hard, and guided the head of his c**k to my lips. I opened for him. Damian’s hand slid into my hair as he pushed into my mouth, slow at first, then deeper. The low, rough sound he made when I took him as far as I could went straight between my legs.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Take it. Just like that.”

He f****d my mouth with controlled thrusts, eyes never leaving my face. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes when he went too deep, but he only stroked my cheek with his thumb and kept going. When he finally pulled out, a thin string of saliva connected my lips to his c**k.

Damian lifted me onto the desk again, shoved my skirt up, and buried himself inside me in one hard thrust. I cried out, arms wrapping around his neck. This time there was no slow build. He took me roughly, deeply, one hand braced on the desk, the other gripping my hip hard enough to leave new bruises.

“You walked around all day dripping for me,” he growled against my ear. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes—”

“Say it properly.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He came with a low, guttural groan, grinding deep as he filled me. I followed seconds later, clenching around him, face buried in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

When it was over, Damian stayed inside me for a long moment, breathing hard. Then he pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to the side of my neck.

“Tomorrow,” he said quietly, “I’m taking you out of the city for the weekend. Pack nothing. You won’t need clothes.”

My stomach fluttered.

“…Yes, Sir.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes still dark with lingering hunger.

“Good girl.”