Yes, sir.
The crystalline halls echoed with the click, click, click of heels against the floor with each precise step that carried her through the palace. Guards stationed outside doors nodded to acknowledge her as she passed by, but she kept her attention on the planner held against the crook of her arm.
Her attention grazed over the hours and meetings, taking in the schedule she had been crafting for this very moment. Now, days of subtle time manipulation had culminated in what Prince Consort Shining Armor thought would be the next thirty minutes free to himself.
He was, however, wrong.
She allowed a careful, precise smile to grace her lips before resuming the stoic expression expected of a secretary in her position. Her appearance had to be picture perfect at all times: manicured nails, dark lashes, and red lips. Too much smiling risked smudges of lipstick on her teeth, a stark contrast to their brilliant white.
When she arrived at his office, she gave the door a cursory knock before letting herself in, feigning interest in the planner she still held.
She heard the rustle as he jolted upright in his chair and started, “Oh, hon—”
With a sharp look to cut him off, she approached his desk. “It would appear there has been a mishap with your schedule.”
Shining Armor’s raised brow slowly lowered, and a light grin pulled his expression from confused to relaxed. “I was afraid of that when I saw that I had half an hour free. So, what am I supposed to be doing right now?”
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in admonishment and set the planner down on his desk. “I find it rather offensive to be referred to as a ‘what’.”
“What?” His brow shot up again. “Oh.” There was a pause, then he repeated in a husky voice that tingled her nerves, “Oh.“
The office went quiet, filled only with the sound of click, click, clicking heels as she slowly circled his desk while he turned in his chair to follow her progress.
“You’ve been under a great deal of stress lately, sir.” With practiced ease, she lowered herself down to her knees, movement unhindered by the tight pencil skirt that hugged her thighs. “I believe you are overdue for a special treatment.”
His legs relaxed to the sides in a playful attempt at a subtle spread, and her gaze flicked between his eyes blown dark and the crease of his pants over his groin. “Is that so?”
She couldn’t help it; she smiled. He loved to play this little game of theirs, to play like he didn’t know exactly what she was about to do, to make her work for what they both wanted.
“Yes, sir.” Slowly, she ran her hands up his thighs, smoothing any wrinkles she found along the way. “Please allow me to assist you.”
A low groan rumbled in his chest and she watched with pride as his hips gave a small jerk when her palm found him. “My wife—”
The pride bloomed with the heat of eagerness and just a hint of mischief. “Is busy, sir. Away to attend to the trivial matters of the people. I’ve ensured we will be undisturbed.”
“I see.” His eyes were half-lidded as he watched her undo the buckle of his belt. “I should have known you’d think of everything.”
“I always do.” She didn’t want to talk anymore. All they did day in and day out was talk, talk, talk. Internal affairs, foreign dignitaries, charity galas—his life, and hers by proxy, was full of talking.
As soon as she had his pants undone, she smiled at the sight of his growing bulge beneath his boxers. With a deft slide of her hand and a soft sigh from him, she freed him from his confines and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.
He wasn’t fully hard just yet, but just the anticipation and gentle ministrations had gotten him halfway there. It was her preferred state for him to be in, however, because now she had a wonderful opportunity.
Without preamble, she leaned down and took him in her mouth. The velvet skin was hot against her tongue, and as she bobbed her head she savored the sensation of him slowly hardening with every slide up and down.
It was truly intoxicating. She felt powerful, commanding the blood within him to pool in his groin and stand to attention. When one of his hands rested on the back of her head and the pads of his fingers rubbed encouraging circles against her scalp, she hollowed her cheeks and sucked at the head.
Her reward was the salty taste of precum and the low sound of a throaty moan. She loved it—loved what she could do to him, loved that she could do it for him. This was a special moment where nothing existed outside the two of them.
She swirled her tongue around twice before forcing herself to take as much of his length as she could. Her nose brushed against wiry pubic hairs and she breathed him in, the heavy, musky scent that spoke to her of lust and sex and love.
No, there was no love. Not between him and his secretary. Despite their current circumstance, she couldn’t forget her role. This was about pleasure, not emotion.
Though he made a clear effort to restrain himself, he gave a small thrust up into her mouth. It brought her mind to what else he could be thrusting into, so after one more greedy suck of his head she pushed herself up and climbed onto his lap.
They gazed at one another for a silent moment, his breath hot and quick against her face until they came together in a crash of lips on lips, hands on shoulders and arms and hips, chest against chest. It had been so long since they’d done this, and all at once it wasn’t enough.
His erection pressed almost insistently against her stomach. She rolled her hips to rub against him, and he pulled back to grin at her.
“Are you not wearing any panties?”
She did her best not to pant as she replied, “I pride myself on my efficiency, sir.”
His laugh cut into a groan as she rolled again, her wet womanhood gliding against his length. He let his head fall back to rest against the back of his chair and planted his hands firmly on her hips to ensure she couldn’t and wouldn’t stop.
They ground against one another like horny teenagers that hadn’t learned the depths of pleasure yet. It was a primal chase of pleasure, restricted by her tight skirt and the awkwardness of sitting in a chair. He was so hard that she couldn’t stand it anymore; there were better uses for him than this.
She slipped out of his grasp and turned to face his desk, her legs trembling just slightly with anticipation. “Is any of this important?” she asked as she pushed everything onto the floor, papers scattering and pens clattering and total disarray where there was once order.
“Not anymore,” he replied with amusement under the eagerness in his tone as he stood up and ran his hands along the sides of her skirt.
While he fingered the hem, she leaned forward and braced herself with her elbows against the desktop. “Our time is limited.”
His hands stopped before they gripped the skirt and held it still. “I’m sorry. Who is the boss?”
She tried to push herself back against him, but he kept her firmly in place. Clenching her teeth, she groaned, “Y—You… sir.”
“That’s what I thought.” The depth to his tone made her melt against the desk and fall mercy to him.
Slowly, so slowly, he pushed the cloth up over her hips, and the cool air against her bare skin sent a quiver up her spine. Fingertips caressed the very outer curve of her arse, pressing and kneading the plump cheeks.
“Are you ready?” he finally asked, and to her delight she felt a questioning press against her want.
She cast him a look over her shoulder and tried to appear casual with one quirk of her brow, but the heat in her face belied her needy feelings. “You’re the boss.”
With a husky, breathy chuckle, he gripped her hips with both hands and started to push inside her. It was a mixed sensation of pleasure and completion and stretch and perfection as his girth rubbed something within her that wanted and needed this, just this, nothing else.
He fully seated himself and held the position just a moment, then slid almost all the way out before snapping back in so hard that she cried out in an ecstasy that overrode her senses.
The angle meant all of him brushed all of her; she lost track of what was her and what was him. All she knew was pleasure and all she wanted was more.
Her breathing grew erratic as each thrust forced more moaning cries out of her, the sound echoing against the office walls. The guards outside had to know what was going on, but at that moment she didn’t care. How could she when her husband—her boss was dominating her body and mind?
Then he leaned forward so he could slip one hand from her hip to between her legs. While he continued to pound into her with hard, meaningful thrusts, his fingertip rubbed in a circle to seek—
Every nerve lit up all at once, overwhelmed by the attack on two fronts. Her cries of pleasure blended together until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except feel his hard cock and his insistent finger and she knew she was tight around him as her body gave in to a release that nearly blinded her.
There was a stutter of his hips before he pressed flush against her to bury himself as deep as he could. She felt each throb as he spilled his seed, once, twice, thrice—and then he collapsed onto her, panting and lightly trembling from the after effects of his orgasm.
Their panting breaths chased each other, the expanse of his chest pressing against her back. A cloying exhaustion darkened the edges of her mind and she just wanted to drift off there on his desk with his arms around her, the air thick with the smell of sex and her skin hot with sweat.
Cadance tried to focus on getting her breath to even out while she basked in the joy that burned in her chest. After so many years together, they still loved like newlyweds, laughed like best friends, and fucked like teenagers.
She couldn’t possibly be any happier with her life.
Finally, his grip on her tightened and he kissed the back of her neck. “Well, that was fun. Been a while since we did that.”
“Mm,” she replied with the barest minimum of sound. She just wanted to sleep in the warm afterglow, but the cramp of her shoulder pressed into wood and her lower back complaining at the awkward position brought her to full consciousness.
He squeezed her one more time before pushing himself up. His pants pooled at his ankles, shirt disheveled and wrinkled. “I wish I didn’t have to get back to work.”
She forced herself to stand, running her hands over her own rumpled clothes. “I know, dear. Just think of it as incentive to find more time in your schedule in the future.”
“Or,” he mumbled as he pulled his pants up and worked on his belt, “we could run away from all this. Start over as—” He paused, gaze flicking upward. “I don’t know, maybe we could start a game store somewhere quiet and remote.”
With a laugh, she cocked her head to the side. “A game store? Really?”
“Yeah, really!” His expression took on a youthful glow as he beamed at her, but there was a hint of mischief in his tone as he continued, “I could be the nerdy game store owner, and you could be my hot secretary that draws in all the other nerds but only has eyes for my +5 Broadsword of Greater Thrusting.”
A laugh tore itself from her before she could smother it. “If that’s how you’ll talk in this alternate universe, then I think I’d rather be a princess.”
“You’re no fun,” he said with a snicker and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her in for a kiss. “I really do have to go now. But I’ll see you for dinner?”
She smiled up at him and nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll inform your wife that you’ll be tired from a hard day of work so she doesn’t expect too much from you tonight.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he said in her ear before pulling back and starting for the door. “See you tonight, honey.”
Cadance stood there, staring after him, wondering if it would be an abuse of her power to declare the day some sort of holiday so she could drag him back to the desk.