DIRTY DESIRES: A Collection Of Erotic Stories

Ten: Fingering

SERAPHINA'S POV

I thought I was the only one intimidated by Aaron Voss's demeanor and dominance but it seems like it wasn't just me.

Ever since this meeting started, he hadn't even said a word aside from nodding and humming but the grown men here were already sweating, probably because they knew he wasn't impressed with what they were offering and also that he wasn't interested in doing business with them because what they were offering was apparently too low for Mr Voss.

They seemed really desperate to work with him and I couldn't really blame them.

I had done lots of research at midnight about the Voss Group out of pure curiosity and I couldn't lie, I was genuinely impressed by what I found.

Aaron built his empire entirely from scratch. The man started with absolutely nothing handed to him and turned it into one of the most powerful luxury conglomerates in the country through sheer hardwork, vision and an apparently inhuman refusal to settle for anything less than the best.

The Voss Group owned numerous luxury hotels and exclusive clubs scattered across the city and beyond.

On top of that he ran a highly sought after architectural firm that designed and developed some of the most talked about high-end properties in countries.

Developers, investors and corporations lined up just for the chance to work with him because a Voss stamp on any project meant one thing—Quality that could not be argued with.

No wonder these people across the table were sweating.

I also did a little research about him personally and there was nothing useful I could find until I watched some interview videos and found out that his mum was Italian and his dad was American.

That explained why he knew how to speak Italian and why certain words rolled off his tongue the way they did.

I also found out that he was divorced and that left me so goddamn curious.

Who was she?

Why were they divorced?

Why was I also glad that he wasn't married anymore?

Do they have a child together?

I had tried to find out a little more about the divorce but I couldn't find anything.

Of course Aaron Voss kept his personal life locked down tighter than a vault and the internet had nothing useful to offer me beyond the bare confirmed fact that a divorce had happened.

I was still thinking about it and I didn't even want to examine why.

Nibbling my bottom lip, I typed more words since I was supposed to be taking notes so my new boss could get enough information if he decided to take them as his clients.

I shifted in my seat, feeling uncomfortable since my ass was still burning from the spankings earlier and the memory of it alone was doing things to me.

Aaron's eyes flickered to me for a second making my heart skip a beat then his eyes returned to the man talking and I breathed out slowly in relief.

But then a touch on my thigh made me almost choke on air.

I stared down only to find Aaron's large rough veiny hand resting on my bare thigh, setting my skin on fire the moment it made contact.

He must have noticed the change in my breathing because his possessive grip tightened slowly, causing more heat to gather in my stomach in a way that was deeply inconvenient given where we currently were and who was currently in the room with us.

I glanced back at him but his gaze was completely focused on the clients like his hand wasn't sitting on my thigh in the middle of a professional business meeting.

I was trying to focus, but the movement of Aaron's hands distracted me again.

His grip on my thigh had loosened, the pressure shifting from a possessive clamp to a slow exploration.

His fingers trailed higher then his hand slipped under the hem of my dress.

The fabric bunched around his wrist.

I froze, my entire body locking up as the cool air of the room hit the skin he exposed.

I wasn’t wearing panties.

He had refused to give them back before dragging me out of his office.

The realization hit me the same moment his knuckles brushed against the smooth, bare folds of my p***y.

A sharp, ragged gasp tore from my throat.

The scratching of pens around the table stopped abruptly.

The murmuring died.

I could feel the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes swinging toward me.

My face burned, a hot, prickling flush that raced down my neck and settled in my chest.

I stared down at my notepad, mortified, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Are you alright, Miss Davis?"

The voice came from my left—Aaron.

Asshole.

Now, he was staring directly at me.

His expression was blank, but his eyes were dark.

I nodded quickly, forcing the corners of my mouth upward, straining the muscles to replicate a polite, professional smile.

"I... Y-Yes, Mr. Voss. I’m alright." My voice sounded too breathless. I cleared my throat, continuing, "Just... a sudden headache. Please, forgive the interruption. I’m fine."

I glanced around the table, offering a tight, apologetic nod to the other attendees.

"Please, continue," I added, "I didn't mean to disrupt."

Mr. Voss held my gaze for a second longer, his eyes flicking down to my heaving chest before returning to my face then looked away.

I thought he would take his hands off him, feeling relieved for a second but relief was short-lived. Under the cover of the table, Aaron didn't withdraw. If anything, my pathetic attempt at composure only spurred him on.

His fingers trailed higher, tracing the sensitive crease where my thigh met my hip.

The touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core that made my toes curl inside my heels.

My breath hitched, caught in my throat, threatening to escape as a moan.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, the copper tang of blood blooming on my tongue to stifle any further sound.

It was a battle I was losing, my control eroding with every millimeter he advanced.

My body was betraying me, reacting to his command with a terrifying obedience.

My legs parted on instinct, knees falling open under the table, widening the space for him.

It was an invitation, a silent, desperate plea for him to touch me, to do whatever he wanted.

I dared a glance at him.

Aaron sat perfectly still, his posture relaxed, his eyes fixed on the projection screen as if he were absorbing every word of the presentation with rapt attention.

He looked bored, even. But as I watched, the corner of his mouth twitched.

His lips curled upward, a microscopic, arrogant smirk that he knew only I could see.

His fingers shifted from the sensitive, hypersensitive skin of my inner thigh, moving with agonizing slowness until his thumb grazed the swollen, slick bundle of nerves at the apex of my legs.

He circled my c**t in a way that sent electric shocks skittering up my spine.

I stared hard at the projector screen, willing the numbers to stop swimming, but my vision blurred.

I had to breathe. If I didn’t breathe, I’d pass out, but if I breathed too deeply, my chest would heave and draw eyes.

I forced the air in through my nose, trying to breath normally.

His touch lightened, teasing the hood of my c**t, barely there, a ghost of friction that made my hips twitch involuntarily.

I clenched my fists around the tablet.

I needed him to stop, or I needed him to do more

Just as the thought formed, his middle finger slid lower, collecting the wetness that had pooled there, and then, without warning, he breached me.

My mouth fell open, forming a silent, desperate 'O' as the thick length of his finger sank deep into my p***y.

I high-pitched whimper clawed its way up my throat.

I slammed my lips shut, turning the sound into a cough.

My face burned, a flush so hot I felt like I was standing under a heat lamp.

I risked a glance around the room.

A few heads had turned my way at the noise so offered a weak, apologetic smile, waving a hand dismissively at my throat, and they turned back to the screen.

Aaron held his finger buried inside me, letting me feel the width of it.

Oh f**k.

I can't remember the last time I had a finger inside me.

He began to finger-f**k me with a slowly.

He dragged the pad of his finger against my inner walls with every retreat, stroking that spot that made my toes curl inside my heels.

I was dripping, absolutely soaked, and I knew he could feel it. I was sure his finger was drenched in my arousal.

My thighs trembled, the muscles jumping as I fought the urge to spread my legs wider, to beg him for another finger, for his whole hand.

Instead, I gripped the edge of the table.

He shifted his hand, adding a second finger.

The stretch made me gasp, my eyes squeezing shut for a fraction of a second.

Two fingers now, thrusting in unison, scissoring slightly inside me, opening me up.

The pressure was immense, a fullness that crowded out every thought except the sensation of being used right here in the open.

"100 million dollars," Aaron suddenly said, voice filled with authority.

The entire room gasped.

My own gasp joined theirs, but mine wasn't for the money. It was because, at the exact moment he spoke, his fingers thrust deeper, harder, curling upward to hit that devastating spot inside my cunt.

The clients across the table looked like they’d been slapped.

One of them, a man in a ill-fitting suit, stuttered, "We can't afford that, Mr. Voss. Please, can you reconsider? 70 million? That’s the absolute ceiling of our budget."

A dark, humorless laugh escaped Aaron's lips.

It vibrated through the chair and into my bones. .

He kept his eyes forward, his face a mask of arrogant amusement, all while his fingers worked relentlessly inside me, pumping in and out, the friction building a coil of tension low in my belly that was dangerously close to snapping.

"One hundred million dollars," Aaron repeated, his tone final and faintly dismissive, "That is my price for the architectural design, development and construction of the club from the ground up. Every inch of that building will carry the Voss standard and the Voss standard does not come at a discount. If that amount is beyond your budget I suggest you explore other options elsewhere and I will have someone escort you out."

He suddenly pulled his fingers out of me.

The emptiness was a shock, a void that left me clenching around nothing.

I exhaled, a ragged, shaky breath, thinking it was over but before I could recover, and miss the sensation of being full, he pushed them back in.

Harder and deeper this time. And I was certain it was three fingers now, stretching me open under the table while the room erupted into urgent murmuring around us and nobody, not a single person, had any idea.

A broken breathless sound slipped past my lips but thankfully it was swallowed completely by the noise filling the room.

Across the table the clients exchanged rapid glances, a silent desperate negotiation happening in the space of three seconds before the man nodded.

"100 million is it then, Mr Voss"

His fingers slipped out of my cunt, the wet sound filling my ears.

Aaron stood up immediatly.

The clients rose immediately, hands outstretched, eager and relieved, practically tripping over themselves to shake on it.

Aaron looked at the extended hands but did not shake a single one.

Maybe because his fingers were stained with my juices?

"My legal team will be in touch to finalize the contracts. Good day" He said and walked out without looking back.

I sat there for a moment, p***y still leaking, thighs pressed together, wishing with everything I had that he had just finished what he started.

It would have been better if he had pushed me all the way over that edge right then and there but that would have been highly inappropriate and the decent part of me was glad he stopped.

I remained behind, helping escort the clients out alongside another employee, the head of client relations.

She turned to me before leaving with a warm genuine smile.

"Welcome to the team Mrs Davis. If you ever need anything don't hesitate."

"Thank you," I smiled back genuinely.

She left and I just stood there, my mind still going over everything that had happened in that room minutes ago.

I got fingered in a meeting filled with people.

And I liked it.

Damn.

I shook my head at myself.

I needed to find Daniel

I was about to take a step forward when someone I really didn't want to see came heading straight toward me down the corridor.

Stella.

I wasn't the type to dislike someone without good reason but for some reason I had disliked her from the exact moment she had stared at me that specific way when I walked in with Daniel that morning.

"Good morning Mrs Davis." Her voice was perfectly polite, "Mr Voss asked me to show you around and take you to your new office."

I studied her face for a second. The politeness was there and I find it irritating.

"Alright," I replied simply. "Lead the way."

She turned and I followed, our heels clicking against the floor.

"Mr Voss usually takes his lunch around one pm," She began, "As his personal assistant you are expected to collect it and bring it to his office when the chef has finished preparing it"

I nodded without looking at her.

"What does he like to eat?"

"That's none of your business," She answered sharply. "He has a personal chef who handles the menu. Your job is simply to collect it and take it to Mr Voss. Nothing more."

What's up with her?

She should be thankful I'm in a good mood otherwise.....

We stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut.

"Your office is on the fourth floor. You will see it shortly." Her annoying voice continued. "Always answer your office phone. The moment Mr Voss arrives at the office in the morning, coffee goes on his desk immediately. In the afternoons he prefers hot chocolate."

Interesting.

"Mr Voss does not tolerate unprofessional behavior, lateness, distractions, disrespect, gossip or laziness. He expects everything to be perfect at all times. Do you understand?"

I said nothing, feeling her glance at me from the corner of her eye.

"Stop being a f*****g b***h and answer me. Do you understand or not?"

I turned and looked at her slowly. She looked back at me with that stupid face of hers and I was so genuinely tempted to introduce my palm to it right there in the elevator.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

I took one step forward, about to walk out but a hand grabbed my arm, fingers digging in without warning, yanking me back before I could fully step out.

I turned and my palm connected with her face hard.