Chapter 2
I knew this was going to happen.
From the morning after that first time, when our eyes met and the weight of what we'd done hung in the air, I knew.
We could pretend we were the same. We could hide behind formality, behind work, behind impeccable posture.
But the desire was there.
Fierce. Latent.
And at the first opportunity, it would explode again.
The message arrived in the middle of the afternoon.
“Need to talk to you. My office. Now.”
I looked at the phone screen, feeling the impact of each word.
It wasn't unusual for him to call me to private meetings. The nature of my work required it. I was his personal secretary, his most trusted assistant.
But something about this made me hesitate.
He didn't ask. He didn't request.
He ordered.
I took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing a notepad to give myself some security.
I walked to the office, aware of every step. Of my heartbeat.
I knocked on the door and waited.
“Come in.”
His voice was firm, deep.
I opened the door and found Fernando Serra sitting behind the desk, his posture rigid.
He didn't look up immediately.
Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on a document in front of him, the pen spinning between his fingers.
“Close the door.”
I did as he asked.
I remained near the entrance, waiting.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the clock on the shelf, marking the seconds with irritating precision.
Then he raised his eyes.
And it was as if all the air left the room.
The tension between us was an invisible force field.
“We need to talk.”
I nodded, keeping my chin up.
“About?”
He slid a paper toward me.
“The concession proposal for the metropolitan transport network. The opposition caucus is threatening to block the project.”
I picked up the document, quickly scanning the points I already knew.
“No surprise. The right doesn't want a progressive government modernizing public transport. It gives power to the people.”
Fernando watched me closely, his dark eyes catching every nuance of my reaction.
“Do you think we can pass it without giving in on the points they want?”
I ran my tongue over my lips before responding.
“If the party stands firm and we secure the strategic votes, yes. But we'll have to negotiate… and maybe make some noise.”
“You've always been good at that,” he said, his voice thick with something that had nothing to do with politics.
I swallowed hard.
He was testing me.
My body went rigid.
If we kept this conversation going, everything would stay under control. But his gaze… The way he looked at me, as if he could see exactly what I was feeling, made every fiber of my body tense.
“Fernando…”
It was the first time I'd spoken his name since that night.
He noticed.
His jaw tightened.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
I should have looked away. But I didn't.
I should have taken a step back. But instead, I took one forward.
And so did he.
The tension reached a breaking point.
My body was on fire before he even touched me.
And when he did…
His breath was hot against my face when he cornered me against the wall, his large, imposing body pinning me there as if I were his to take.
The scent of him—expensive cologne mixed with sweat and raw tension—enveloped me, and I felt the heat rising between my thighs before his hands even reached me.
His hands gripped my waist hard, fingers digging into flesh as he pulled me against him, the hard bulge of his arousal already evident beneath his impeccable pants.
“This is a mistake,” he murmured, his voice deep, almost a growl, but his dark eyes gleamed with a desire he could no longer hide.
“I know,” I replied, my trembling hands already unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his broad chest, the defined muscles he hid beneath that tailored suit.
What happened next was fast, urgent, a crumbling of two years of control he'd clung to tooth and nail.
His hands moved up my thighs, large and rough, yanking my skirt up, the fabric tearing slightly along the way.
My body reacted instantly, arching against him, my legs already weak with anticipation.
He grunted low, a hungry, primal sound, and ripped my blouse off with a yank, the buttons clinking on the floor.
I tugged at his tie, loosening the perfect knot, while he slid his hands beneath what remained of my clothing, finding my hot skin, his thumbs grazing my hard nipples before squeezing them hard enough to make me moan.
I was panting, breath caught in my throat.
So was he, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the self-control that defined him as a powerful man unraveling right there in front of me.
“You have no idea what I want to do to you,” he said, his voice thick with desire, his eyes devouring me as he pushed me harder against the wall.
“Then do it,” I shot back, challenging him, wanting to feel every ounce of that power he'd been holding back for two years.
He didn’t hesitate. In one quick motion, he undid his belt and shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock—thick, hard, pulsing with pent-up desire.
I barely had time to breathe before he lifted me, his strong hands gripping my ass, my thighs spread around his hips.
He held me there, suspended, and then thrust into me with a single deep stroke, filling me completely.
The impact tore a muffled scream from me, his cock stretching me without warning, big and hot, claiming every inch of me with a force that was pure dominance.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, teeth clenched, eyes half-closed as he started thrusting, the rhythm firm and relentless.
Each stroke hit like a blow, the sound of our skin slapping mixed with my moans and his hoarse grunts.
He held me like I weighed nothing, prey in a predator’s hands, his muscular arms flexed as he fucked me against the wall, his cock sliding in and out with savage precision.
Two years without this had left him ravenous. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down—just went deeper, faster, sweat running down his neck and dripping onto my chest as I clung to his broad shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
“This… is… mine,” he said between thrusts, his voice ragged with exertion, each word punctuated by a thrust that made me see stars.
I felt all of him—the heat, the thickness, the way he stretched me open with each thrust, dominating my body like he owned it.
Pleasure built fast, a tight knot in my belly, and when he slid a hand between us, his thumb finding my clit and pressing hard, I exploded.
The orgasm tore through me like a wave, making me tremble against him, my muscles clenching around his cock as I moaned loud and uncontrolled.
He didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, the rhythm turning brutal now, his hips slamming into mine as he chased his own release.
“I’m going to come inside you,” he warned, his voice hoarse, almost a command, and then it happened. With a low roar, he came hard, his cock pulsing inside me, spilling down my thighs as he held me tight, muscles locked, his face buried in my neck.
When he finished, he set me down slowly, but my legs gave out, weak and trembling, and I had to lean against the wall for support.
He was breathing hard, his dark eyes still fixed on me, his hair disheveled, his open shirt hanging off his broad shoulders.
A powerful man who had just possessed me like the world belonged to him—and in that moment, so did I.
I knew it then.
This wasn’t going to end.
This dangerous game was only beginning.
And I didn’t want it to.