Chapter 233: Chapter 233

I sat on the chair closest to the table, took a long sip of the hot coffee, and leaned back. Cigarette dangling from my lips, eyes half-shut, just letting the warmth settle in. After yesterday’s mess, this moment felt stupidly peaceful. Almost surreal.

“Did you see the weather report?” Nala asked around her sip. “The snowstorm starts this afternoon. Heavy one.”

“Yeah.” I exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. “Saw it. The guy on the TV last night looked like he was about to announce the apocalypse.”

“Heavy winds, possible power outages…” She flipped another page. “Perfect timing.”

“Mm. Love how nature always kicks you when you’re already down.”

She snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“Think we’ll get snowed in?” I asked.

“Probably.” She exhaled. “God… I haven’t slept in three days.”

“I noticed,” I said. “Your eye bags are legally a different department now.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to her papers, blowing lightly on her coffee.

Outside, the wind brushed against the tall windows, making a low, cold hum. Inside, it was warm. Quiet. Just the two of us, sipping our coffees as the office slowly woke up around us.

Honestly? I could stay like that forever.

Nala was hunched over her folder again, tapping her pen against the margin without noticing she was doing it. Her brows were pinched together, lips pressed thin, eyes scanning the same paragraph over and over like her brain refused to absorb anything.

Yeah. She was stressed to hell.

I took a long drag of my cigarette, exhaled toward the ceiling, and sipped my coffee again. Bitter, hot, perfect. I watched her for a moment—the way her heel bounced, the way her other hand rubbed her temple in slow circles. She didn’t even notice I was staring.

“You’re frying your brain, CEO,” I muttered.

She didn’t respond. Just kept staring down like the paper was personally insulting her.

I pushed myself up from the chair, walked to the windowsill, tapped my cigarette twice over the ashtray, then set it there to keep burning. The cold leaking through the glass brushed against my skin.

I walked over to the wall panel right beside the doorframe. Every wall around us was clear glass—floor to ceiling—so anyone walking by could see straight into Nala’s office from every angle. Meetings, arguments, her reading in silence… all of it was visible unless she manually changed it.

I tapped the panel.

A soft chime sounded, followed by a low hum rolling across the room. The entire office shifted—every glass wall turning milky white at once, frost spreading over the transparent panels like ice racing across a pond. In just two seconds the whole place was completely opaque, sealed off from any curious eyes in the corridor.

Then I walked to the door, turned the small metal latch, and locked it.

When I turned back, Nala had finally noticed. One eyebrow lifted. Just one. The what the hell are you doing now? eyebrow.

I smirked and walked behind her chair, resting my hands on the backrest while leaning down close enough that my breath brushed her ear.

“Come on,” I murmured. “You’re stressed enough.”

She tilted her head a little, not pulling away—just watching me from the corner of her eye. “Oh? And what exactly do you propose, Evan?”

I slid my hand along her shoulder, slow, teasing, making sure she felt every inch of my palm before it settled. “Lazy sex? It’s a thing Jasmine and I found.”

Nala looked forward, then down, then back up at me like she was calculating something. She wasn’t blushing—instead, she had that tired, fed-up look of someone who’d hit the point where stress and exhaustion blur into ’fuck it.’

She exhaled through her nose… then shrugged.

“Fuck it,” she said. “Lazy sex.”

Her voice was soft, tired, but there was this tiny curve at the corner of her mouth—the kind that said she needed this more than she wanted to admit.

I smiled back, slow and satisfied, the kind of smile that made her roll her eyes but secretly melt at the same time.

Nala rose from her chair, the city lights glittering behind her through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I met her halfway, cupped the back of her neck, and crushed my mouth to hers. She tasted like coffee and desperation. Before she could catch her breath I hooked my hands under her thighs, lifted her clean off the floor, and set her ass down on the edge of the table. Papers scattered, a pen clattered to the carpet; neither of us cared.

I yanked my belt open, shoved pants and boxers down in one impatient push. My cock sprang free, heavy, aching, already leaking at the tip.

Nala’s fingers scrabbled at her pencil skirt. I beat her to it, bunching the tight fabric up around her hips, exposing black lace panties already soaked through. I hooked the crotch with two fingers and dragged them aside, baring her glistening pussy.

“Fuck, look at you,” I growled. “So wet for me already, Miss CEO?”

She whimpered, nodding frantically.

I dropped to my knees, spread her thighs wider, and dragged my tongue up her slit in one slow, filthy lick. Nala’s head fell back, a broken moan spilling out as I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked, hard.

One of her legs hooked over my shoulder, heel digging into my back; the other dangled off the table, stocking-clad foot swaying with every flick of my tongue.

“Evan… oh god, right there,” she gasped, fingers tangling in my hair.

I teased her clit with quick little flicks, then slow circles, then sucked it between my lips and hummed. Her hips bucked against my face.

“You taste so fucking good,” I rasped against her, sliding two fingers deep inside and curling them. “This pretty little pussy missed me all day, didn’t it?”

“Yes… fuck, yes… don’t stop—”

I didn’t. I ate her like I was starving, tongue lashing her clit, fingers pumping in time until her thighs clamped around my head and she came with a sharp cry, back arching off the desk, pussy pulsing around my fingers.

I stood, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and lined my cock up with her dripping entrance.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

Her eyes, glazed, gorgeous, locked on mine as I pushed in, until I was buried to the hilt. We both groaned.

I started slow, long strokes that dragged every inch of me against her walls, her legs spread wide over the desk, skirt bunched at her waist, blouse half-unbuttoned, tits spilling out of her bra. I hooked her knees over my elbows, folding her nearly in half, and picked up speed.

“Harder,” she begged, nails raking down my back. “Fuck me harder, Evan.”

I slammed into her, the desk rocking beneath us, her ass sliding an inch with every thrust.

“You love getting fucked on your own desk, don’t you?” I growled, angling deeper. “Love knowing anyone could walk in and see the big bad CEO getting ruined on my cock.”

She moaned louder, nodding, pussy clenching tighter.

I shifted again, pulled her hips to the very edge, and pounded into her missionary-style on the tabletop, one hand braced beside her head, the other rubbing tight circles over her clit.

I had her folded nearly in half, knees hooked over my forearms, heels digging into the small of my back while I drove into her with long, punishing strokes. Every thrust slammed the table an inch across the floor, papers fluttering to the carpet like wounded birds.

Her blouse had come completely open; the lacy cups of her bra were shoved down under her breasts, letting them bounce with every impact. The city lights behind her painted silver stripes across her flushed skin, her nipples hard, dark, begging.

I shifted my angle, grinding deep, the head of my cock dragging slow and deliberate over that perfect spot inside her. Nala’s eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering, a choked gasp spilling from her lips.

Her orgasm crashed through her like a wave. A low, broken cry tore out of her as her pussy clamped down so hard I saw stars, walls fluttering and squeezing in rhythmic, greedy pulses that tried to drag me even deeper. I didn’t let up, just kept fucking her through it, slow and relentless, letting her feel every thick inch while she shook and gasped beneath me.

I slid both hands up her ribs, shoved the lace cups of her bra down completely, and palmed both full breasts, squeezing hard. Her nipples were stiff, begging. I rolled one between my thumb and forefinger, pinched just enough to make her sob, then leaned down and sucked the other into my mouth. I lashed it with my tongue, grazing it with my teeth, tugging until she arched off the desk and pushed her tits harder against my face.

“Evan—” she whimpered, voice absolutely wrecked, nails raking fiery lines down my shoulders. “Inside… please, cum inside me—”

I released her nipple with a wet pop, gave the other the same rough treatment, then straightened just enough to watch her face while I slammed into her three more times, hard, deep, claiming.

That was all it took.

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