Chapter 1
Hidden Affairs With My Married Boss 1
The Late Night Episode
Sara’s POV
I had been crushing on Vincent Stans for months before I even met him in person.
It started with his photo on the company website, sharp gray eyes staring straight through the camera, that jawline carved like stone, the way his dark suit hugged broad shoulders. Every time I opened the Stans Enterprises career page during my final semester, I lingered too long. I told myself it was research. It wasn’t.
Then came the interview. Him in the flesh, sitting at the head of the conference table, voice low and commanding while he asked questions that felt more like tests. I answered every one perfectly, but my mind kept drifting to how his fingers would feel unbuttoning my blouse instead of tapping the pen against the table.
I got the internship. Started two weeks later.
Every day I saw him, the crush grew worse. He barely spoke to me directly—mostly emails, brief nods in the hallway—but once he brushed past me in the copy room and his cologne hit me: sandalwood, smoke, power. I had to excuse myself to the bathroom and press my thighs together until the ache eased.
Tonight was different.
It was 9:47 p.m. The office floor was empty except for the hum of the air conditioning and the glow from his corner suite. He’d emailed me at 7:32: Miss Steve, I need your help reviewing the quarterly projections. Stay late. My office. Bring coffee.
I stayed.
I brought two black coffees. No sugar. The way I’d seen him take it.
I knocked once. Pushed the door open.
He was at his desk, tie loosened, top two buttons of his white shirt undone. Sleeves rolled to his elbows. Dark hair slightly messy from running his hand through it.
“Close the door,” he said without looking up.
I did. Locked it. The click sounded too loud in the quiet.
He finally looked at me. Those gray eyes raked over my body white blouse tucked into my black pencil skirt, heels making my legs look longer.
“You’re still here,” he said. Voice deeper than usual. Almost rough.
“You asked me to be.”
He stood. I walked around the desk slowly. Stopped right in front of me.
“You always do what I ask, Sara ?”
My breath hitched at my name on his lips. He’d never said it before.
“I try,” I whispered.
He reached out. Took the coffee from my hand. Set both cups on the desk without drinking.
Then his fingers caught my chin. Tilted my face up.
“You’ve been watching me,” he said. “Every meeting. Every time I walk by your desk. You think I don’t notice?”
Heat flooded my cheeks.
“I—”
“Don’t lie.” His thumb brushed my bottom lip. “I’ve noticed you too. The way you cross your legs when I speak. The way your nipples harden under those blouses when I get close.”
I gasped.
He smiled. Dark. Hungry.
“I’ve wanted to bend you over this desk since the day you walked in for your interview.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Then do it,” I breathed.
Something snapped in his eyes.
His mouth crashed onto mine. Hard. Claiming. Tongue pushing past my lips, tasting me like he owned me.
I moaned into the kiss. Hands fisting his shirt.
He spun me around. Pressed my front to the desk. My palms slapped the wood.
He yanked my skirt up to my waist. Found my lace panties. Ripped them aside.
“Fuck,” he growled. “You’re soaked already.”
His fingers slid through my wetness. Circled my clit once. Twice. Then plunged two inside me.
I cried out. Back arching.
“So tight,” he murmured against my ear. “Been saving this pussy for me?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Only you.”
He pumped his fingers slow. Deep. Curling them to hit that spot that made my knees buckle.
“You’re going to come on my fingers first,” he said. “Then on my cock.”
His thumb pressed my clit. Rubbed fast circles while his fingers fucked me harder.
I was shattered. Screaming his name. Legs shaking. Clenching around him.
He didn’t let me recover. Pulled his fingers out. Unzipped his pants.
Thick cock sprang free. Hard. Veined. Tip glistening.
He rubbed it against my entrance. Teasing.
“Beg,” he ordered.
“Please,” I whimpered. “Please fuck me please .”
He slammed in. One brutal thrust. Filling me so deep I saw stars.
I screamed. Nails scraping the desk.
He didn’t go slow. Pounded hard. Fast. Skin slapping. Desk rattling.
His hand wrapped my hair. Pulled my head back.
“Look at the city,” he growled. “Look at what you do to me. I’m going to ruin you right here where everyone could see.”
I moaned louder. The thought of it—being claimed in his office, windows wide—made me clench harder.
“You like that?” he asked. Thrust deeper. “Like knowing I could fuck you in front of the whole building and no one would stop me?”
“Yes—God, yes.”
He slapped my ass. Hard. Once. Twice.
“Mine,” he snarled. “This pussy is mine.”
He reached around. Fingers on my clit again. Rubbing fast.
“Come again,” he commanded. “Come while I fill you.”
I did. Exploded around him. Squeezing. Milking.
He groaned. Buried deep. Came hard. Hot pulses flooding me. So much it leaked down my thighs.
We stayed like that. Panting. Him still inside me.
He pulled out slow. Turned me around. Kissed me deep. Tender this time.
“You’re staying late every night from now on,” he whispered against my lips.
I nodded. Breathless.
He fixed my skirt. Buttoned my blouse. Kissed my forehead.
“Go home,” he said softly. “Rest. Tomorrow… we do this again.”
I left his office with shaky legs and his cum still warm inside me.
And I knew I was already addicted.
