Between Work and Desire

The day had been long, and the warm atmosphere of the room only amplified the exhaustion. She was lying on the bed, her loose shirt barely covering her figure. He was sitting at his desk in front of the computer, with a perfect view of everything. "Comfortable over there?" he asked without taking his eyes off the monitor, though he already knew the answer. "Could be better," she replied with an exaggerated sigh, stretching a bit further across the sheets. He let out a small laugh, turning in his chair to look at her. "I could help with that." She raised an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "How?" "A massage. You’re clearly tense. And no isn’t an option." Before she could respond, he had already crossed the room, bottle of oil in hand. She positioned herself face down on the bed, letting him sit beside her. "Trust me," he said as he poured the oil into his hands, warming it before sliding them onto her shoulders. The movements were firm, calculated, but carried more than just a relaxing intent. His hands glided smoothly, slowly moving down toward her lower back. The scent of the oil filled the air, along with a tension neither of them mentioned but both could feel. Occasionally, he let his hand drop in a light slap on her backside, followed by deeper strokes. "Relax everything, it’ll do you good," he said in a soft tone that barely masked his amusement. She responded with a faint sigh, though the flush in her cheeks was obvious. One of those slaps was firmer, drawing a small flinch from her. "Does that help with circulation too?" she asked sarcastically, not turning to look at him. "Definitely," he replied with a low chuckle. The strokes became slower, more deliberate. One of his hands slid down to the back of her thighs, barely grazing the fabric of her underwear, while the other remained steady on the curve of her waist. "You know you’re playing with fire, right?" she murmured, turning her head slightly toward him. "And if I am?" he replied, leaning a little closer. She said nothing else. She simply moved a hand back, finding her target with precision, drawing a small gasp from him. He tried to keep his composure, but every movement of hers pushed him closer to the edge. Their breaths mingled in the heavy air of the room. She continued, slow but deliberate, while he tried to hold himself together, his hands still caressing her skin. When he finally lost control, a low groan escaped him, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. She, on the other hand, slowly turned to look at him, a satisfied and dangerous smile on her lips. "Is that all you’ve got?" she asked, her voice dripping with challenge. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire, and a smirk spread across his face. "Not even close." The game was far from over, and they both knew it.