Part 01 - Zoe's Young Colleague

"So, are you excited for the weekend?" I ask my husband-to-be, holding my hands under my chin on the kitchen top and fluttering with my eyelashes.

"Not really, it will be just Isaac and I. You know him, he will take me to some boat, then on some sports activity. I'm certain we will even sleep in the same hotel room. How exciting a bachelor party of two can be? Especially when Isaac is one of them." Mike tells me calmly with a slight disappointment in his eyes. Then he slices one more piece of the mortadella he is eating on the countertop, puts it in his mouth, and adds slurpingly. "I mean. I love him." he gulps the salami and continues, "But he sucks like a best man. I made a bad choice, I must admit." Then he goes around the countertop and gently kisses me.

As he kisses me, a WhatsApp notification pops out on my phone.

"Whooo! Who are you chatting with?" Mike asks me playfully, touching my hair at the same time.

"Marco," I add carelessly, trying not to look interested at that ten years younger than me Italian, who I happen to mentor at work. My mind even drifts slightly when I think of him in a costume standing in front of me at the elevator.

"Marco from the deli across the street?" he asks jokingly.

"No, Marco, from work. Do you remember?" knowing he already knows who I am talking about.

"Marco, whom-you-wanna-wrap-your-legs-around-and-scream-until-he-breaks-your-insides Marco? That Marco?" Mike adds quickly with a laugh in his tone.

I hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey, shut up, you imbecile. Do you know what Marco did yesterday at the office?" I ask, looking Mike straight in the eye.

"What? He appeared naked on your desk, biting his lip and saying 'comeah to meah mi amorrrree.'" Mike adds, trying to look funny and badly imitating an Italian accent.

"That's it. I'm not sharing it with you anymore. I revoke your privileges of a husband who knows everything." I say, trying to sound pissed off at him, and cross my hands in front of my body.

I suddenly feel Mike's lips on my neck and his hand gently pushing my hair away; tiny goosebumps go through the back of my neck and then spread over my entire body. I feel a gentle bite on the ear, making me tremble just a little. For a moment, I'm on the verge of wetting myself; that's how little I need. Then I hear his voice.

"Come on Zoe, do tell me. I will be careful not to hurt your fragile hotwife-to-be feelings."

How could I even be mad at my man? He's caring, loving and allows the slut in me to feel comfortable with herself.

"Okay, but one more remark..." I look at him, waving a finger at his face.

"Yeah, I promise." he smiles.

"So I'm standing at my desk, and suddenly the door opens. I'm stapled down to my laptop's screen, so I ignore what's happening in my surroundings. At some point, I feel the smell of a gorgeous perfume and two pairs of strong hands on my shoulders. I jump out of scare, but his hands pin me down for the chair.

'Relax, Zoe, it's just me, Marco,' he whispers right next to my ear. His voice is deep, solid, and confident. It's like James McAvoy whispers in your ear with an Italian accent. Hell, he even looks a little bit like James McAvoy, but bigger. I feel his hands moving and squeezing my shoulders slightly.

'You are so tense.' I laugh, but you know, with my sexy laugh.

'Do you have a subscription for massages, Marco? I can sign up.' And then I made a terrible mistake." I just pause here to see Mike's expression, who looks at me eagerly.

"What? What did you do?" he adds with a tone like he's about to get disappointed any second now.

"I tilted back with my chair, and my head leaned on his stomach. Just from my head there, I could tell that he not only had abs, but his abs were so hard I wanted to turn around and lick them on the spot. I mean, don't get me wrong, honey, I love you with your belly and everything, but that is a whole other story." I smile at Mike playfully.

Mike gives me the finger at my face, smiles, and says

"I will simply ignore that; please continue with your story, wife," he adds, trying to look serious.

"So, as the massage continues, Marco tells me.

'You know what, Zoe? You work a lot.' My ears are like hounds, and his voice is like a bird they are about to catch. It is so pleasant, so manly. I want to tear his shirt so, so bad, baby. And then, he decides to add.

'I have bought you salad and your favorite dessert as I saw you missed your lunch.'" I was so fucking wet at that moment, Mikey. If I could, I would let him bang me on the spot.

Mike looks enraged; he comes to me and grabs me by the neck. His strong hand squeezes me, not too hard but not too weak. I'm helpless against his push towards the wall. He presses me, and as I'm unsure what he will do next, I feel his other hand on my pussy, moving tenderly around my lips through my leggings. As I feel his tongue in my mouth, I gasp, and the little air I have left is wholly taken by his kiss. He releases his hand from my neck, looks me in the eye, and says.

"I have to go to work. So we will continue tonight."

I'm standing there wet and unfucked. I tell him, "You, sneaky bastard. How could you leave me like this?"

"I'm not," Mike quickly says, "I just prepare you for Marco." he smiles and then leaves as I stand there wet like a lake.

As Mike goes out, I look at my watch and realize how incredibly late I am; I take a quick shower, wondering what I should wear today at the office. I then jump to the wardrobe and wear blue jeans and a white tank top. Hm, would Marco like my ass today? I put some high heels on, which make my ass look irresistible. Jump into the car and off to work.

I enter the building in a hurry. I open my corner office door and see Marco standing with a cup of coffee before me. He wears a gray suit; his hair is always impeccable, his beard is trimmed, and his big brown eyes look directly at mine. He smiles, showing his white teeth. I try to move, but I cannot.

"I made you a coffee. Espresso. You are not going to drink that shit from the coffee machine." Then, his massive body walks towards me and stands so close that I can feel his scent and presence over mine. I am small and insignificant, standing next to him. He takes my hand into his immense paw and puts the cup of coffee into it.

"T..t...thanks, but I have an assistant for that." I stutter. He leans down, and I can hear him breathing; his husky voice continues to pour all over my body.

"There are two things I would offer you in this life: good coffee and good orgasms. Right now. You need both. I can sense it with each cell of my body."

Damn it, Mike's trick evidently worked. What? Do men have radars for this, or what? He grabs me by the chin and kisses me deep and long; His beard scratches the end of my lips. He kisses gently but at the same time confidently. I hardly close the opened office door behind me as he pins me into it. The cup of espresso now lies on the floor. For the second time today, I'm between a man and some part of a building; what a Tuesday! His hand grabs me for the wrists and pulls them firmly above my head. Another kiss, this time aggressive, perverted, rude. I moan; I sense how my panties are getting wet. His other strong hand is on my waist; I feel his touch around it, his rough skin almost scratching my pale, smooth waist. It quickly slides on my belly and deftly unbuttons my jeans.

"What the fuck is happenning?!" I barely mumble, and very soon, I realize.

His middle finger is inside me. Already? How? When? My mind is confused; my body is shivering out of pleasure. I'm baffled and aroused at the same time. His movements become more intensive, his kisses harder, his grip on my wrists stronger.

"Marco, God damn it, I'll cum." I try not to scream; it's like he doesn't care. He fingers my wet pussy until my knees surrender; I barely stand. My breath is intense and deep. I groan, almost sure my assistant hears that, but I don't care. I cum. Hard. I can sense how my wet pussy becomes wetter, how I am all over his hand. Marco puts his hand out, smiles, and pushes his finger into my mouth. I instinctively start sucking his wet, rough finger, looking him in the eyes. It tastes good; it tastes like many adventures we can have together. He releases my wrists and gives me one last kiss.

"Now that is how to have a good espresso," he adds. I have no words no idea what just happened; I just managed to move out of his way. He goes out, and on the door, he tells me.

"I have a table for two at Chef's on Friday. I'll wait for you."