Claimed by the Wrong Wolfe

Vivian's POV “Hey, Vivian,” Rosa, her colleague, called from across the hall, her voice dripping with disdain. Mr. Wolfe wants his coffee now.” Vivian didn’t even bother to look up. She didn’t need to. She could already picture Rosa's expression; Curled lip, the raised brow, and the thinly masked disgust as if her mere presence made her skin crawl. Vivian was a woman who knew how to hide her true feelings well since she had to live with her uncaring father and heartless stepmother ever since her mother died at the age of ten. Her stepsister was the only one who had all the love and attention while she had to fend for herself. So she murmured anyway. “Thank you.“ The sharp sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room before the words slipped past her lips. She exhaled slowly, her fingers curling into fists on her desk as she tried to steady her raging nerves. Ignore it, she reminded herself for almost the tenth time today. You're here for bigger things, those were the words she had used to console herself more times than necessary. But that doesn't make it hurt less. The rumors, the side-eyes, the fake smiles, they have always been there since she started her internship at Wolfe Conglomerate Fashion Empire immediately after she graduated from college. And it grew worse since her promotion to become the CEO's personal assistant. No one believed she earned it. They think the scholarship girl from the public university didn't deserve to be here when there were other graduates from high-profile universities. They believe she had used her body to work her way to the top. Though none of them had dared to say it to her face except only in passing whispers and coffee orders like this one of course. She rose from her desk, walking to the corner kitchenette. Her movements were practiced, almost precise. She knew exactly how Mr. Wolfe liked his coffee. Minimal sugar. Just enough heat to warm his hands, not burn his tongue. She always got it right. It was one of the reasons she got promoted in the first place. She poured, stirred, adjusted the heat, then placed the cup gently on the tray. Her heart was pounding just like it always does anytime she approached his office. She pressed the doorbell. “Come in.” She twisted the doorknob and stepped inside the extravagant office. Tristan Wolfe looked up from behind his sleek mahogany desk, piercing grey eyes meeting hers like they always did—unblinking, unreadable, arresting. And then a rare smile crept up his lips. Small. Private. Just for her; no one else has ever earned the smile. The corner of her mouth lifted before she could stop it. “Your coffee, sir,” she said in a professional tone as she set the cup on the desk. He didn't say anything. He just leaned back in his chair, eyes still locked on her like she was the only thing worth noticing in the entire building. He was admiring how beautiful she looked in the blue corporate knee-length dress that hung to her body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. “That dress,” he says, his voice thick as he was fighting to control himself, “is a statement.“ Vivian pressed her lips together, still looking at him with that professional demeanor. “I don't know what you're talking about, sir.“ “Cut the act, Vivian….“ He said, the same way he used to say her name like he owned her and yes, he does. Their relationship has been going on for a year. When she was an intern, Tristan always complained about everything. The coffee, her attitude to work, punished her for being late even by a minute but then Vivian never complains. In fact, she struggles to adjust and begins to fall in love with him. And in no time, his scolding soon morphed into attraction. On one of their late-night works, they found themselves kissing each other and that was the beginning of their relationship. They have been keeping it secret but of course, there have been speculations. He stood up, walked past her towards the window, drew the blinds closed, and twisted the key in the door lock. She stiffened when he felt his arms wrapping around her from behind. Tristan kissed her neck, down to her collarbone. “The body inside that dress is screaming for my hands, Vivian. Don't pretend you don't want me.“ Vivian let out a soft moan, heat pooling down beneath her as she tried to fight the desire brewing inside her. “Your coffee is going to get cold, Tristan,” she managed. Vivian hoped that would distract him. Not that she didn't want him but because she likes to keep things professional. Working hours should be for work and not for pleasure. But Tristan would always remind her that he owned the company. “Coffee? That can wait. But you, my love? I need to have you now.“ With that, he scooped her in his arms and headed towards the desk. He placed her gently on it, zipped down the dress, and unhooked her bra with practiced ease. Vivian smiled as he removed her hands from the sleeve and removed the bra cups from her breasts. Her large breasts spilled out, the n*****s were pink, perky, and calling for his attention. Without wasting time, he closed his mouth around one and then took the other one in his hand while pinching down on her n*****s with his thumb. Vivian hissed, her back arching as she leaned into his touch. “Tristan,” she moaned, her manicured fingers digging into his shoulders, her thighs trembling as she felt her p***y clenching. He sucked her until her n*****s were swollen and hurting from his bites. He trailed his fingers inside her thighs and pushed her damp panties aside. His fingers slipped between her folds, hot and slick, curling inside her until her toes curled. “You're already dripping, Vivian,” He growled in pleasure. “I haven't even started yet.“ He thrust in. Out. Harder. Deeper. Her thighs trembled. Her n*****s tightened and his free hand grabbed them again, pinching and rolling them. “Tristannnnnn,” she let out a throaty cry. “Faster. Harder.“ He did just that. Faster. Harder. Deeper. She felt his fingers deep inside her soul. “f**k, Vivian. Always so tight,” he growled as he felt her p***y clenching around his fingers. He stopped fingering her and rubbed around her p***y in tight circles, finding her G-spot and when he did, he stayed on it. Her breath came out in ragged gasps. She rolled her eyes at the back of her head as pleasure overtook her. And soon, she came undone. She felt her juice leaking out and her nerves calmed down. He slipped out his fingers, which were glistening with her c*m and he dipped them into his mouth. He squeezed his eyes closed, savouring the sweet taste of her. “You taste like marshmallows, Vivian,” he growled. “You're an addiction. Your man must be lucky to have you.“ She smiled, still breathless, heart warm. “Then you’re lucky to have me… since you’re my man.” Tristan froze. The smirk on his face disappeared replaced by confusion. “How can I be your man?“ he said quietly, his voice cold and detached. “Are we…. dating?“