Chapter 3
I should have seen this coming.
Fernando Serra wasn’t a man who gave in easily.
He wasn’t impulsive. He wasn’t careless.
That raw desire, that loss of control between us… None of it fit into his plans.
He wanted to be president.
And I was a mistake.
I knew he was avoiding me.
I knew because his schedule, once chaotic, was suddenly organized so we’d never be alone together.
Because the lingering looks had vanished.
Because when I needed him to sign urgent documents, I was told to go through the chief of staff first.
And because that morning, when I walked into his office to go over his schedule for the week, he simply said:
“Thank you, Glória. You can go.”
Short. Professional. As if nothing had happened.
I swallowed the retort on my tongue and left the room without a word.
If that’s how he wanted to play it, fine.
I wasn’t new to this game.
And I knew this kind of distance would only make the tension worse.
That night, I got home and threw myself on the couch with an exhausted sigh.
The apartment was small, modern—a reflection of my life: functional, no frills.
I glanced at the chair where I’d tossed my clothes the night before.
The skirt was wrinkled, the white shirt missing its buttons… and the red lace panties ripped right down the middle.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
The memory hit me hard.
His urgent touch.
His hands tearing at the fabric, not caring if he ruined it.
The heat rising through my body as he took me against the wall.
My skin prickled.
I opened my eyes and picked up the ruined panties, holding them between my fingers.
I should throw them away.
But something stopped me.
Maybe it was the memory.
Maybe it was the fact that no matter how hard Fernando Serra tried to pretend nothing had happened…
I lay in bed, the room dark, the silence of the night wrapping around me like a heavy blanket.
But my body was restless, hot, my skin tingling with a desire I couldn’t shake.
Fernando. He’d been in my head all day—the way he’d looked at me, that firm, dark gaze, the deep voice that cut right through me.
Before I could sleep, I knew I needed this.
I needed him, even if only in my imagination.
I pulled the sheet down, cool air hitting my skin as I slid my nightgown up, exposing my naked body.
My hands already knew the way. I started slowly, brushing my fingers along my neck, down to my breasts.
I squeezed them hard, imagining his large hands instead of mine, his thumbs teasing my nipples until they were hard and sensitive.
A sigh escaped my lips, and I closed my eyes, seeing him there—his broad chest, his suit hanging open, staring at me like he was going to devour me.
My right hand slid lower, tracing my belly until it reached between my thighs.
I was already wet—just thinking about him made my body react like this, hot and slick.
I spread my legs, my fingers grazing my folds before slipping inside, feeling how soaked I was.
“Fernando,” I murmured, barely a whisper, his name escaping like a forbidden secret.
I began to touch myself, my middle finger sliding in slowly, imagining it was him opening me up, his thick cock filling me the way I’d wanted him to today.
My other hand squeezed my breast again, tugging at the nipple as I picked up the rhythm—two fingers now, working inside me, my thumb circling my clit in quick strokes.
My hips rose from the bed, matching the movement, heat climbing through my body as I imagined him on top of me, the muscles in his arms flexed, pinning me against the wall like he’d almost done today.
“That’s it, Fernando,” I moaned louder, my voice trembling, the sound echoing in the empty room.
I could feel him—the weight of his body, the scent of sweat and power, the way he’d fuck me without asking permission, rough and wild.
My fingers pumped faster, the wet sounds mixing with my moans, the bed creaking as I writhed.
My clit throbbed under my thumb, swollen and sensitive, and I imagined his mouth there, sucking hard, his teeth grazing while he watched me with those predatory eyes.
The pleasure built, a tight knot deep in my belly, my legs trembling as I pushed deeper, faster, my fingers drenched.
“Fernando, fuck me,” I whispered, nearly crying from how badly I needed it, my whole body tense, teetering on the edge.
And then it hit—the orgasm crashed over me like a wave, making me arch my back, my muscles clenching around my fingers as I came, the hot wetness running down my hand, down my thighs, soaking the sheet.
“Fernando,” I whispered at the peak, his name barely a breath, trembling and raw, as I shook all over, the pleasure ripping through me.
I lay there panting, heart pounding, legs weak, my fingers still between my thighs, feeling the last spasms fade.
He wasn’t here, but for a moment, it felt like he was.
And I knew that tomorrow, when I saw him again, this fire would only burn hotter.
~°~
Going back to work the next day took an insane amount of self-control.
It wasn’t the first time I’d frozen out my personal life to stay completely professional.
I'd been doing this ever since I ended up on my own.
There was a time when I dreamed big.
I wanted to be a journalist, wanted to change the world with words.
But reality caught up with me early.
Opportunities were scarce, and I needed to survive.
Little by little, the dreams faded away.
I traded news stories for business reports.
I traded headlines for political speeches.
I left friends behind because I never had time to grab a beer after work.
Family… well, they stopped trying when they realized that, for me, work always came first.
And now, this was who I was.
Glória Brito.
Secretary to the governor of the most important state in the country.
Focused. Competent. Untouchable.
Or, at least, I used to be.
In the days that followed, we kept up appearances.
I carried out my duties without missing a single detail.
He gave orders without a hint of hesitation.
But the atmosphere was charged.
Where before there had been veiled flirtation, now there was something heavier.
The attraction had become a deafening silence.
Every meeting was a test of endurance.
Every exchange of glances, a silent provocation.
And Fernando knew.
He knew that the more he pulled away, the more he fed what burned between us.
I knew it too.
And I was willing to wait.
Because, at some point, he would give in again.
And when that happened…
I wouldn't give him an inch.