The First Demand

Danny Anderson loosened his tie and leaned back in his leather chair, the glow of his monitor the only light left in the executive suite. It was past nine, and the rest of the floor had gone dark hours ago. He rubbed his temples, trying to focus on the quarterly projections, but his mind kept drifting to Juliana waiting at home. She would have dinner ready by now, probably keeping it warm in the oven like she always did when he worked late.

A soft click broke the silence. The door to his office swung open without a knock.

Joyce Osik stepped inside, her intern badge still clipped to the waistband of her tight black skirt. At twenty-one she moved with the careless confidence of someone who knew exactly how much trouble she could cause. Her long dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail that swung behind her as she closed the door and flipped the lock.

"Working late again, Mr. Anderson?" she asked, her voice light and mocking. She held a thin manila folder against her chest, the edge pressing into the swell of her perky breasts beneath a fitted white blouse.

Danny frowned. "Joyce. I thought everyone had gone home."

"Not everyone." She crossed the room in a few unhurried steps and set the folder on his desk, right on top of the projections he had been pretending to study. "I found something interesting while I was organizing the archived files yesterday. Thought you might want to see it before I decide what to do with it."

He opened the folder. Inside were printed emails, transfer receipts, and a highlighted spreadsheet showing a series of off-book payments he had authorized two years ago. Small amounts, cleverly disguised, but damning if anyone looked closely. His stomach dropped.

"Where did you get these?" he asked quietly.

Joyce leaned her hip against the edge of his desk, close enough that he could smell her light citrus perfume. "Does it matter? They're real. And I made copies. Lots of copies."

Danny swallowed. "What do you want?"

Her green eyes sparkled with mischief. "I want you to call your wife and tell her you'll be home late tonight."

He stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She nudged the desk phone closer to him with one manicured finger. "Dial. Tell her something came up at the office. Make it sound believable."

His hand hovered over the receiver. "Joyce, this is insane. Whatever you think you're doing—"

"I'm not thinking," she interrupted, smiling. "I'm telling. Call her, or I walk these papers straight to HR in the morning."

Reluctance warred with the cold weight of fear in his chest. He picked up the phone and punched in the familiar number. Juliana answered on the second ring, her warm voice filling the line.

"Hey, honey. Still at the office?"

Danny cleared his throat. "Yeah. Something came up with the numbers. I might be another hour or two."

Joyce's hand slid up his thigh under the desk, fingers tracing the seam of his trousers. He jerked slightly but kept his voice steady.

"Don't wait up," he said. "I'll grab something here."

Joyce's nails pressed lightly through the fabric, and he felt himself twitch despite everything. She grinned wider.

"Love you too," he finished quickly and hung up before his voice could crack.

The moment the receiver clicked into place, Joyce moved. She swung one leg over his lap and settled onto him, straddling his chair. Her skirt rode up her thighs as she pressed her body close.

"Good boy," she murmured. "Now stand up."

Danny rose on unsteady legs. She pushed him back against the desk and dropped to her knees with practiced ease, unzipping him before he could form another protest. Her fingers wrapped around his half-hard cock and gave it a slow stroke.

"Already getting hard for me," she teased, looking up through her lashes. "I knew you would. Married men always do."

He gripped the edge of the desk. "Joyce, we can't—"

Her mouth closed around him in one smooth motion, hot and wet and insistent. Danny's protest died in a sharp exhale. She worked him with deliberate skill, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing, ponytail swaying with every bob of her head. The wet sounds filled the quiet office. Heat flooded his face and his cock thickened fully against her tongue.

She pulled off with a soft pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his shaft. "On the desk. Now."

He obeyed, perching on the edge. Joyce stood, hiked her skirt to her waist, and pushed her panties aside. She was already slick. She guided him to her entrance and sank down in one slow, deliberate motion, taking every inch until her ass met his thighs.

"Fuck," she breathed, rolling her hips. "You feel bigger than I expected."

Danny's hands found her waist on instinct. She rode him with short, grinding strokes, her ponytail brushing his chest each time she leaned forward. Her inner walls clenched around him rhythmically, and he couldn't stop the low groan that escaped.

"That's it," she whispered against his ear. "Don't fight it. You like this. You like your little intern using you."

Each roll of her hips sent sparks up his spine. Guilt twisted in his gut even as his body responded, hips lifting to meet her. She reached between them and rubbed her clit in quick circles while she bounced faster.

"Phone," she panted suddenly. "Take a picture. Send it to your wife."

Danny froze. "What?"

"Do it." Her voice sharpened. "Or I forward those documents tonight."

With shaking hands he grabbed his phone from the desk. Joyce leaned back just enough for the camera to catch the view of her riding him, skirt bunched at her waist, his cock disappearing inside her. She smiled for the shot, bratty and triumphant.

He snapped the photo. She took the phone from him, typed a quick message, and hit send before he could stop her.

"There," she said, dropping the phone and grinding down harder. "Now fuck me properly."

Danny's control slipped. He gripped her ass and thrust up into her, chasing the heat and the shame and the terrible, undeniable pleasure. Joyce moaned loudly, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Yes," she gasped. "Just like that. Come inside me."

His orgasm hit without warning, a rush of heat and guilt that made his vision blur. He pulsed deep inside her while she clenched around him, drawing every drop. She stayed seated on him, breathing hard, then slowly lifted off. A trickle of his cum slid down her inner thigh.

Joyce straightened her skirt, collected the folder, and gave him one last smirk.

"Same time tomorrow," she said. "Don't be late."

She unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving Danny alone with the scent of sex and the glowing screen of his phone where the message to Juliana still showed as delivered.