The screen froze. Not the grey-spinning-wheel-of-doom freeze. No, this was worse. A perfect, high-definition still image of me, Alessia, mid-soan, my head thrown back against the ergonomic chair, mouth open in a silent cry, and my legs splayed wide open, the shimmering silicone toy buried deep inside me for my entire department—and probably my boss—to see.

Oh god. No. No, no, no.

My heart didn’t just pound; it tried to claw its way out of my throat. I fumbled for the mouse, my fingers slick with a nervous sweat that had nothing to do with the pleasure that had, seconds ago, been coiling tight in my belly. I slammed the escape key. Nothing. The image held, a damning portrait of my lunchbreak indiscretion. I reached for the power button on the monitor just as a sharp, decisive knock echoed from my office door.

My blood went from boiling to icy in a nanosecond. Nobody knocks like that.

Before I could even process a thought, the lock clicked—a soft, electronic thunk—and the door swung open. Leo stood there, one hand still on the keycard he’d just used, the other holding his work tablet. His eyes, a startling shade of ocean blue, didn’t go to my horrified face. They went straight to the screen, then flickered down to the very real, very present situation between my still-spread legs.

A slow, devastating grin spread across his face. It wasn’t a leer. It was something far more dangerous: a look of pure, unadulterated appreciation, mixed with a knowing, predatory calm. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a quiet, final click.

“Got a ticket about a frozen stream,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the tense silence. He didn’t move closer, just leaned against the door, his gaze holding mine now. “Seems like a critical system failure.”

I finally found my motor functions, yanking my skirt down over my knees, my face burning. “Leo, I can explain—”

“Don’t.” The word was soft but absolute. He pushed off the door and walked toward my desk with a relaxed, confident stride. He didn’t look at the screen again. His eyes were locked on me, seeing everything—the panic, the shame, the residual, humiliating thrum of arousal that still pulsed through me. “The explanation is pretty clear. And frankly, far more interesting than the firewall diagnostics I was working on.”

He stopped beside my chair. The faint, clean scent of his cologne cut through the charged air. He looked down at me, his grin softening into something more intimate. “The question is, Alessia… did you finish?”

I could only stare, my mouth dry. His audacity short-circuited my brain.

He leaned down, bracing one hand on the desk, putting his face close to mine. “The meeting’s been dropped. System rebooted remotely. No one saw anything but a frozen screen of you looking very focused on your work.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “Except for me. I saw the whole glorious thing.”

His proximity was a live wire. My fear was rapidly mutating, transforming into something hot and sharp under his unwavering gaze. He’d seen me at my most vulnerable, my most exposed, and he wasn’t running to HR. He was… intrigued.

“Why?” I breathed out, the word barely a whisper.

“Because,” he murmured, his fingertips brushing a strand of hair from my flushed cheek, the touch sending a jolt straight through me, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen on this corporate network. And I’ve been craving you since you started here.”

His confession shattered the last of my nerves. The shame evaporated, burned away by a surge of pure, reckless need. He’d been watching. And he’d liked it.

His thumb stroked my jawline. “So I’ll ask again. Did you finish?”

I shook my head, a tiny, helpless movement.

His smile returned, all heat and promise. “Good.”

In one fluid motion, he dropped to his knees before me. He didn’t ask. He just hooked his hands under my knees and pulled, drawing me to the very edge of the chair, spreading me open for him again. The air hit my wetness, making me gasp.

“What are you—?”

“IT support,” he interrupted, his voice a husky whisper against my inner thigh. His breath was warm. “Resolving your hardware issue.”

And then his mouth was on me.

It wasn’t a tentative kiss. It was a claiming. A deep, languorous stroke of his tongue that laved exactly where I needed it most, that picked up the rhythm my toy had failed to complete. A raw, guttural moan was torn from my throat. My hands flew to his hair, not to push him away, but to fist in the dark, soft strands, holding him to me.

Oh god. His tongue was so much better. Softer, hotter, more knowing. He explored me with a confident skill that made my toes curl in my heels. He licked and sucked, his nose nudging against me, his stubble a delicious, rough contrast to the devastating softness of his lips. He found my clit and zeroed in, circling it with a relentless, perfect pressure that had me arching off the chair, a broken string of curses falling from my lips.

He slid two fingers inside me, and I cried out, the fullness a breathtaking counterpoint to the frantic work of his mouth. He fucked me with his fingers, a steady, pumping rhythm that matched the circles his tongue was making. I could feel the tension rebuilding, hotter and faster this time, coiling like a supernova in my core.

“Leo… I’m… I’m gonna…”

He just groaned against me, the vibration pushing me right to the edge. His fingers curled, finding a spot inside me that made my vision whiten. His suction intensified.

That was all it took. The climax detonated. It wasn’t a wave; it was a seismic event, shaking me apart. I shattered with a scream I didn’t recognize as my own, my body convulsing, gripping his fingers, bucking against his divine, wicked mouth as he drank every last shuddering pulse from me.

When I finally went limp, boneless and spent, he rose slowly. He looked down at me, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with unrestrained hunger. He brought his wet fingers to his own mouth and sucked them clean, his gaze never leaving mine.

“System operational?” he asked, his voice rough.

I could only nod, my breath still coming in ragged gasps.

He leaned in, his mouth hovering inches from mine. I could taste myself on his breath, a primal, erotic scent. “Good. Now for the real troubleshooting.”

His hands went to his belt buckle. The leather slid free with a sharp, metallic zip.