Chapter 159: Knotting the CEO -6

"...so if we look at the margins for next month," David’s smooth, clear voice filled the room, addressing the department heads without a single flicker of hesitation,

"we can see a distinct uptick in performance."

Under the table, he pressed harder, his heel digging right into the sensitive root of my dick, dragging up and down with slow, torturous friction.

My eyes darted around the room in sheer panic. Sarah was taking notes. Marcus was sipping his coffee, looking directly at the presentation screen.

Nobody had any idea that while my employee was delivering a high-level budget breakdown, he was actively using his foot to drive his supervisor out of his mind under the table.

"Julian? What do you think about the reallocation for phase two?" Sarah asked, turning her head to look straight at me.

David didn’t stop. In fact, he ground his heel slightly deeper into me right as the question was asked, a deliberate, wicked test of my restraint.

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper, my hips involuntarily rising a fraction of an inch to press into the punishing friction of his shoe.

"I... I think," I choked out, my voice tight and strained, my knuckles turning stark white as I gripped the table edge,

"I think David’s... proposal is... entirely solid. We should proceed exactly as he suggested."

From behind the presentation clicker, David’s mouth twitched into the faintest, most devastating smile, his foot pressing one last, hard, unbearable stroke into my aching length before slowly sliding away, leaving me breathless, aching, and completely at his mercy in front of the entire management team.

---

The moment the meeting ended and the last department head closed the conference room door, the fragile hold I had on my sanity snapped completely.

I didn’t wait for David to turn off the smartboard or gather his notes. I marched straight past the long mahogany table, grabbed him by the front of his dark suit jacket, and shoved him hard against the wall behind the presentation screen.

The clicker clattered to the floor, rolling away into the shadows, but neither of us cared.

"What the hell was that?" I rasped, my voice shaking with a dangerous mix of genuine outrage and raw, unbearable desperation.

My chest was heaving, my body still throbbing from the relentless torture he’d subjected me to under that table.

"In front of Sarah? In front of the entire team? Are you completely insane, David?"

David didn’t look startled. He let his back rest against the wall, looking down at me with those calm, dark eyes that had been driving me out of my mind for months.

His breath hit my face, warm and even, while I stood there trembling in front of him like a wire pulled way too tight.

"You were distracting me with a leg job, in an important meeting where I’m supposed to be focused," I slammed my palm against the wall beside his head, leaning into his space, my face inches from his.

"I am your supervisor! I could lose my career, my reputation, everything and you’re standing there playing games under a conference table!"

"It wasn’t a game, Julian," he whispered, his tone dropping into that low, authoritative register that stripped away every bit of my fight.

His grip on my wrists tightened slightly, pulling my hands down from his lapels until my palms were pressed flat against his chest.

"Look at you. You’re trembling. You’ve been burning up for me since nine o’clock this morning."

"Because you won’t leave me alone!" I choked out, the anger cracking to reveal the sheer, agonizing frustration underneath.

"You bring me to the edge, you tell me ’not here,’ you deny me, and then you do that in broad daylight? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?"

"I know exactly what I’m doing," David murmured. He took a single, deliberate step forward, trapping me between his body and the edge of the conference table.

He reached out, his long fingers wrapping firmly around the back of my neck, pulling me down until our foreheads rested together.

"I told you I wouldn’t take you in a rushed five minutes on a desk, Julian. But if you’re asking me to take you right now... if you’re telling me you’re done fighting this..."

His thumb pressed against my pulse point, feeling my heart hammering wildly beneath my skin.

"Tell me you want it," David commanded softly, his lips brushing against mine with every word, refusing to give me an easy out.

"Confront me all you want, Boss. But tell me what you actually want right now."

I gripped his shoulders, my fingernails digging through the fabric of his suit.

Every rule, every shred of executive pride, and every remaining line of defense crumbled into dust.

I couldn’t pretend anymore. I was completely undone, utterly ruined by him, and I didn’t care what happened tomorrow.

"I want you," I breathed against his mouth, surrendering completely as my hips pressed flush against his.

"Lock the door, David. Just... take me."

The second the words left my mouth I felt David’s hand leave my neck, heard the sharp click of the lock sliding shut, and then he was on me again - crowding me back until the edge of the conference table bit into the backs of my thighs.

His mouth crashed against mine, all heat and control, his tongue sliding deep into my mouth while his hands yanked my belt open with zero patience.

The zipper followed. Cool air hit my overheated skin a second before his palm wrapped around my cock - still slick and throbbing from the way he’d ground his heel into me under the table.

He stroked once, tight and slow, thumb dragging over the head until my hips jerked hard into his fist.

"Fuck...David..."

"Lower your voice." His voice was low, right against my lips.

"Else your entire staff would know that their boss is being bent over in the conference room?"

He spun me around. One firm hand between my shoulder blades pushed me forward until my palms slapped flat against the polished mahogany.

He shoved my trousers down just far enough to reveal my ass, though my jacket still on.

My cock hung heavy and leaking between my legs, the tip brushing the table edge every time I breathed, causing more precome to leak.

I heard the soft tear of a packet, the wet sound of him slicking himself. Then two slick fingers pressed into my asshole- no warning, no gentleness - pushing in deep and curling.

My forehead dropped to the wood. A broken sound ripped out of my throat as he worked me open, scissoring, stretching, finding that spot that made my knees threaten to give.

"Your hole is so fucking tight, Julian." he murmured behind me, while using his free hand to grip my hip hard enough to bruise.

His fingers crooked, pressing my exact pressure spot and my vision whited out. My cock jumped, a thick bead of precome dripping onto the carpet.

"David... please... I need you..."

He didn’t wait for me to be done asking, he pulled the fingers out of my hole. Then the blunt, slick head of his cock lined up.

He leaned over my back, mouth at my ear, voice pure command.

"You’re going to take every inch while the rest of the floor is still walking past this door. And you’re going to stay quiet, Boss. Can you do that?"

I nodded frantically, forehead pressed to the table, breath already coming in short, desperate pants.

He pushed in.

The stretch burned perfect and deep. My mouth opened on a silent gasp as he sank deeper - slow, relentless - until his hips were flush against my ass and the entire thick length of him was buried to the hilt.

We both froze for a second. I was trembling so hard the table creaked. His breath scorched the back of my neck.

Then he started to move.

Long, hard strokes that dragged over every sensitive place inside me.

The table groaned under the force of it. His hands locked around my waist, holding me exactly where he wanted me, forcing me to take the full length on every thrust.

The wet, filthy sound of him fucking me filled the room - skin on skin, the soft slap of his hips against mine, my own choked breaths I couldn’t quite keep down.

"That’s it," he growled, one hand sliding around to fist my cock in time with his thrusts.

"Feel how deep I am. You spent the whole meeting trying not to come on my shoe and now you’re bent over the table taking my cock like you were made for it."

I couldn’t answer. Every stroke punched the air from my lungs. My fingers clawed at the wood.

Precome slicked his fist, making the strokes wet and filthy, and still he kept the pace punishing - deep, deliberate, angling just right so the head of his cock dragged over that spot again and again until my thighs were shaking and I was biting my own wrist to stay silent.

He felt it. Of course he did.

"You’re close already," he said, voice dark with satisfaction. His grip on my cock tightened, thumb pressing hard under the head.

"Don’t you dare. Not until I say, sir."

I whimpered - actual, broken whimper - and pushed back onto him harder, chasing the friction, the stretch, the way he filled me so completely I couldn’t think past the next thrust.

My balls drew up tight. The pressure coiled vicious and bright at the base of my spine.

David’s free hand tangled in my hair and yanked my head back, forcing my spine into a deeper arch.

His mouth found the side of my throat. He bit down just hard enough to hurt as he slammed in harder, faster, the table screeching against the floor with every impact.

"Come," he ordered against my skin, fist working my cock in perfect, relentless rhythm.

"Come on my cock right now, Julian. Let me feel it."

I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me so hard my vision blacked out at the edges.

Thick ropes of come striped the table and carpet as my asshole clenched around him, milking every inch, my body jerking helplessly in his hold.

A raw, muffled cry tore out of me and I clapped my hands over my mouth, in an attempt to keep it in.

I kept coming - longer, harder than I thought possible - while he fucked me through it, never slowing, dragging every last pulse out of me until I was shaking and oversensitive and still pushing back for more.

Only then did he let go.

His hips snapped forward once, twice, three more times - deep, grinding thrusts that forced another broken sound from my throat - and then he buried himself to the root and came with a low, guttural groan against the back of my neck.

Hot pulses flooded me. I felt every one. Felt him throbbing inside me as he rode it out, holding me locked against the table until the last tremor left his body.

For a long moment the only sound in the room was our ragged breathing.

David stayed buried deep, chest pressed to my back, one hand still loosely wrapped around my spent cock. His lips brushed the shell of my ear.

"Damn Boss," he murmured, voice rough and satisfied, "Didn’t know that your ass cake would be this sweet."