It’s past 10 PM. The office is dark except for one corner — his.

Tall glass windows show the city skyline, glowing and distant, but his eyes stay locked on the screen. He doesn’t even glance up when she walks in, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

She stands at the doorway of his private cabin, folders in hand, lips slightly smirking. Her blouse is tucked in tight, skirt hugging every curve, and two buttons undone — probably one more than necessary.

“You called me back, Mr. Malhotra?” she asks.

Still not looking. “You forgot the quarterly annex.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll remember next time.”

“I doubt it.” His voice is low. Flat. Dangerous.

She steps closer. “Anything else?”

Now, he looks up. Slowly. Eyes trailing from her thighs, up the curve of her waist, finally meeting her eyes. His jaw clenches.

“Lock the door,” he says simply.

There’s a pause. Then the soft click of the lock.

She walks forward. Controlled steps. He watches, hands still folded on the desk.

“You going to punish me for forgetting?” she teases, her voice like silk.

He pushes back from the desk and stands. Tall. Commanding. His chair rolls behind him.

“I don’t think you forgot by accident.”

She shrugs. “Maybe I didn’t.”

He steps around the desk. She’s suddenly much smaller in front of him.

“I think,” he says, brushing a thumb over her lip, “you like testing me.”

“I think you like being tested.”

He leans in, whispering against her cheek. “Bend over the desk.”

Her breath catches. But she obeys.

He watches her place her hands flat on the polished wood. Her hips push back slightly, teasing him. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

His hands lift her skirt — slow, deliberate.

Black lace panties. Already wet.

He runs two fingers between her legs, presses against the damp fabric. She lets out a quiet gasp.

“Poori gili ho.”

“Kafi time se hu.” she whispers.

With one tug, her panties are on the floor.

He unzips his pants, just enough. His cock is already hard, aching.

Without warning, he slides in.

She moans — sharp, breathy.

“Aaahh! Oh my god ahhhhh, aaram se!”

“Shhhh” he growls, one hand gripping her hip, the other over her mouth.

He starts slow. Deep. Each thrust pushing her forward against the desk. Her hands curl around the edge, knuckles white.

His tie swings forward, brushing her spine.

Then he grabs it, loops it around her wrists, ties them to a drawer handle.

“Too much?” he murmurs against her ear.

She pants, “No-ahhh Pl-ease don’t stop!”

He doesn’t.

He thrusts harder, faster. The sound of skin against skin echoes in the office. Her cries are muffled by his hand.

“Hmmmmm, mmmm aahhh”

Her body tenses. She trembles.

And then — release. Her orgasm hits like a wave, legs shaking, cries spilling out despite the hand.

He groans. Pulls out. Finishes all over her back, gasping.

“Arghhhhhhh”

Silence. Heavy breathing.

After a few seconds, he loosens the tie. She turns, hair messy, lipstick smudged, eyes wild.

He cups her face. Kisses her forehead.

And then, flatly: “Don’t forget the annex next time.”

She grins, pulling her panties back on. “Or what?”

He zips up, adjusting his cuffs.

“You’ll see.”