I never gave much thought to Miya until she was on her knees. Is that awful? I guess it is. But she was a very unobtrusive sort of woman, expedient, efficient, compliant in every way. She made the perfect legal secretary and I was certainly beyond grateful for her services. She'd managed to pull off miracles the night before client meetings I thought saints couldn't perform, and would stay late to do them, too. But she did it all with a sort of easy grace that left you feeling as if she were invisible, and I guess in some ways she was.
Until I found myself standing in front of her, pulling another huge law tome out of my stacks, and looked down to see her kneeling on the floor beside me. Miya was incredibly petite, probably no more than five feet tall if she was an inch—even in heels, and she wore those every day—her long, dark hair sleek and pulled back from her rounded face. I knew some guys had a "thing" for Asian girls, but I never really had a type. I was an equal opportunity lover that way—if a woman interested me, it was about the woman, not her type.
Still, in that moment, something shifted in my perception of my secretary. On her knees, her skirt riding up from her foray on the floor, her blouse open to a generous V, at least from my angle, she was stunning, and when she lifted her eyes to mine—Christ! I think my cock grew three sizes at least. I'd never looked at her that way before. I know men say that, and most of them are lying, but for me, it was really true.
"I think I need to sit down." I did. My knees felt like jelly, but besides that, my cock was straining to be released, and I couldn't hide it very well in trousers.
"Are you okay?" She spoke with a slight Asian accent—I had no idea which one. She was American as far as I knew. I had not inquired about her heritage beyond that.
"I guess." I settled into my big chair—Miya called it that. I'd heard her joking with my colleagues on the phone when I was too busy to take calls, "No, Mr. Rick is sitting in the big chair, he can't be bothered right now."
My cock ached. And it didn't help that she came forward and pressed a small hand against my forehead, easing it around to the back of my neck. Her breasts were eye-level, the silk of her blouse touching my cheek when she leaned over to reach a water bottle on my desk.
"Drink." She insisted, and I did, grateful for something to do, and my mouth, I discovered, had become suddenly, incredibly dry. "Maybe you're coming down with something?"
"Just dehydrated," I said in between swallows.
"Are you sure?" That hand again, rubbing the back of my neck. I groaned, an involuntary thing, rolling my head to the side. She smiled, her eyes softening, as she slipped behind my chair. "Ahh, that's it then."
Her hands moved over my shoulders, beginning what would be the best massage of my life. Her movements were sure, confident, finding all the right points to make me gasp and moan out loud. This seemed to please her.
"If I'd known you could do this, I would have paid you more," I joked.
"Let's call it a bonus," she murmured, working her thumbs under my shoulder blades, her breath warm against my ear. My cock was still raging—there was nothing I could do about it.
"God, that's good." I groaned as she squeezed my shoulders, the strength in her hands amazing compared to their size.
"I love giving you pleasure." It was a spontaneous statement, something I don't think she expected to say, just a low murmur, but it got my attention. I looked back at her and saw color flooding, high on her cheeks. "I mean, pleasing you. Doing the research, finding the books you need, making sure everything is..."
"You do please me," I insisted, our eyes locked. The heat in my groin increased from smolder to fire. "In fact, I don't think I've ever been disappointed in the five years you've been here."
I was trying to keep it professional. I really was. She didn't make it easy.
In fact, I'd swear she was trying to make it hard—in more ways than one. She came around the chair to stand in front of me, running her hand through my hair in a very un-secretary-like way. "Would you like me to please you now?"
I stared, stunned. I couldn't believe the risk she was taking. She could lose her job. Of course, she knew that. But her eyes said she knew different. She'd seen the shift in me, too, I think. Sensed or knew it somehow. I don't know how women know that stuff.
I hadn't had the time to answer when she sank to her knees, and I was lost. Miya on her knees had been what set me off in the first place, and now seeing her eyes turned up to me from between my thighs was more than enough to push me over any edge of uncertainty I'd been teetering on.
"I'd love it if you would," I told her, my voice not my own, lower and pained. She smiled, her expert hands moving over my thighs, working on my zipper. My cock practically sprang out of my pants, and her eyes lit up, delighted. There was no question in my mind then, that this was something we both wanted.
If I'd thought it couldn't get any better than my secretary kneeling before me, well, then I hadn't had my cock in her hot little mouth yet. It got exponentially better. I groaned, pushing my hips forward as she sucked me, my hand moving to the back of her head, where her hair was gathered and tucked into some sort of bun.
"Can I?" I was already pulling out the fastenings, and she shook it all down in one motion, her hair like a cloud of soft satin framing her face. She looked totally different, Miya but not Miya, and that was good. I sighed as the silky strands brushed over my thighs with her movements.
But my cock wasn't going to take much more of her attention without putting an end to things, and I didn't want that yet.
"Come here," I said, pulling her to me. "It's about time I pleased you for once."
"You please me all the time," she murmured, but she let me move her onto my desk—she weighed practically nothing, it was like lifting a child—and I was delighted to find a wet spot on the dark material of her panties when I pushed up her skirt, and the fact that she wore stockings, thigh highs with lace at the top, was just a lovely bonus.
She helped me with her panties, hooking her thumbs in and pulling them down. They went off over the heels—she didn't remove those, and I found that incredibly hot as I leaned in to explore the wetness between my secretary's legs. Her pussy was as tiny as she was, but her lips were plump, the hair there dark and curly.
Her clit was a tender surprise, like a large jewel in a tiny box, and I sucked it into my mouth, eager to taste her. Miya sighed deeply when I did, her hand in my hair, her hips moving forward to give me more room. I thought about doing one of those movie-scene motions and sweeping everything off my desk, but there were client files and other important papers...it would have created more work than it was worth.
So instead, I pressed her down onto the desk in the space between, so she was lying across my blotter on all the notes I jotted down on my calendar and, sitting in my chair, I spread her thighs wide and licked her. She was the sweetest thing I'd ever tasted, before or since, and the soft moans she made, the way her thighs quivered just before she came, made my cock weep with pleasure.
When I came up for air, kissing my way across her belly, skipping the waistband of her skirt—she'd undone her blouse, and bra, and they were open, her hands cupping the gentle swell of her tiny breasts. Her nipples were a delight, dark in the center, the areolas puffy and protruding, just begging to be sucked. She gasped when I licked at them, and she wiggled between my thighs.
My cock, no longer straining, free of its prison, was now trapped between our bodies as we rocked together on the desk. I kissed her deeply, and she breathed me in, her body melting against mine, her tiny hips rolling, grinding. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, she reached down between us, grabbing my cock and aiming me.
"Please," she said.
That was all, but it was more than enough. I slid in deep, the sensation the most decadent I'd ever known. She was wet from my tongue, but still tight, gripping my cock with a muscle strength that surprised me. Miya put her ankles up on my shoulders, and that made things even tighter. My cock jumped in happy surprise as I began to fuck her.
"Oh god that's good," I groaned, grabbing her hips, leaning over her jackknifed body to watch as her breasts moved with each thrust, her nipples hardening, her eyes half closing in pleasure.
I knew I couldn't hold out long. She was too good, too tight, too much velvet heat and silk wrapped around me. Her hands grasped mine, squeezing, her nails digging into my wrists. Her hair spread out around her like a black river over my desk, and she bit her lip, her expression pained, as she was about to come.
"Oh Miya, I can't hold back," I gasped as her pussy squeezed my cock, again and again.
"Yes!" she cried, her hips moving, urging me on. "Fill me. Oh, please, yes, fill me with your cum!"
She didn't have to ask me twice. With a final groan and a hard thrust, I shoved into her, pushing the desk forward a good foot in the bargain, and gave her everything I had. My cock exploded in hot, white bursts, over and over, and I thought I would die when I looked down to see my cum seeping out of her pink flesh in rivulets, as if she was too small to contain it.
I saw the uncertainty on her face, then, as we moved from passion toward composure, and I sought to reassure her. Pulling her against me—she was so slight, I could easily gather her into my arms, and I did, sitting her in my lap as I settled in the "big chair."
"You pleased me." I anticipated her question, covering her damp throat with kisses. "Beyond pleased. Believe me."
She seemed satisfied and settled herself in my lap with a happy sigh, one that absolutely thrilled me. I glanced over at the spot we'd been standing, the book still pulled out on the shelf, the desk where our work was piled up, the things we'd shoved aside so we could have a space between to come together. I took it all in, smiling, and I knew, work to do or not, we were going to be in for a long night
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