I trudged into the dim conference room, my heart heavy with exhaustion from weeks of relentless work. Tonight was the climax of our final pro bono case of the year; a battle fought for a construction worker who had suffered a cardiac arrest on the clock. The room was quiet except for the rustle of papers under Anthony's hands. He didn't look up as I entered, his focus never wavering from the work that was his world.
Working with Anthony was like being caught in a firestorm. His expectations were a mountain that seemed to grow with each day. It wasn't just the complexity of the cases, either; it was the sheer volume of work he expected me to handle. Each task felt like a test, each long night a trial by fire. I respected him, and admired his dedication, but...the frustration was simmering within. The long hours, the endless research - it was a tide that threatened to pull me under.
Was this what I wanted? To prove myself to a man who saw me as nothing more than a workhorse? The hurt was there, mixed with anger. Anger at being pushed to my limits, at the expectation that I would always endure, always persevere. But underneath it all, a question lingered - did he even notice? Did he see the effort and the sacrifice I put in? Or was I just another cog in his machine?
Spotting me, Anthony's stoic face subtly twisted into a wry smirk. "Ophelia, you’re here," he remarked.
In spite of myself, my heart skipped a beat at his voice. I echoed his sarcasm, "Thrilled as always, chief."
There I stood, my gaze inadvertently fixed on his figure. Despite the weariness that marked his features, his...appeal...was undeniable. The veins in his hands, a testament to his strength, moved with a distinct purpose over the documents. The subtle outline of muscles under his shirt whispered of a robustness not immediately obvious in his suit and tie. Watching him, absorbed in his work, my attraction was something I tried my best to resist.
Berating myself for such thoughts, I wondered if he ever thought of me like that. In my meticulously worn blouse and skirt, a conscious effort to mark my presence in the firm, did he perceive me as more than just a junior lawyer? The possibility that he might see me not just as an employee, but as a woman with her own complexities, sent a mix of excitement and apprehension that I didn’t know I wanted.
Pushing my personal feelings aside, I braced myself for the task at hand. As soon as I sat, the room erupted into a frenzy of work. Anthony's relentless instructions came like rapid gunfire, each demand heavier than the last. Papers flew across the table, debates sparked and flared. My heart pounded in my chest, keeping pace with the relentless rhythm of our exchange. Exhaustion clawed at my every nerve, yet we pushed on, our mutual frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
With every document reviewed, every pointed discussion, the pressure mounted. I felt the strain in every muscle, the fatigue fogging my mind. We were locked in a dance of endurance, each step more taxing than the last. The air was thick with the unspoken tension between us, a relentless push and pull. As the intensity of our work reached its peak, I found myself on the verge of collapse, ready to just explode…
I couldn't contain it any longer.
"I can't do this, Anthony!" I yelled, my voice breaking.
Sh*t hits the fan
Collapsing into my chair, my forehead was slick with sweat, hands trembling uncontrollably. The realisation of what I had just done hit me hard. I had screamed at my supervisor, lost control in front of him. Panic set in as one thought raced through my mind: I could lose my job over this. The fear of the consequences was overwhelming.
After a tense silence that seemed to last an eternity, I finally gathered the nerve to look at Anthony. There, in his eyes, was something unfamiliar, something I had never seen before. A softness.
His usually sharp, intense gaze was now mild, fixed on me with an expression that could only be described as…gentle.
Anthony hesitated, his lips parting as if he was about to speak but not quite ready. Time seemed to slow as he grappled with his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a tone of deep honesty. "Long ago, my dad died in a construction zone too. Similar circumstances," he revealed.
My anger, just a moment ago so high, had plummeted to nothing. I looked at him earnestly with solidarity. Had I known, I would have just shut up…but I had no idea. In that moment, all I could do was look at him, understanding and regret mingling in my gaze.
"I'm so sorry, I had no idea," I stammered.
"And I'm sorry. I had no reason to work you that hard," Anthony admitted, his voice softer than I'd ever heard.
A warm place
From that moment, our work together changed. We sat side by side, enveloped in a warm, silent understanding. It felt like we were sharing not just the workload, but also our feelings of empathy, pain, and mutual respect. This new, cosy atmosphere was comforting, yet strange things began to happen. Our fingers would accidentally graze each other's as we reached for the same document, and our eyes often met, lingering longer than necessary. I was confused - were these mere coincidences, or was there something more? I must have been imagining it.
But, undeniably, the warmth between us grew. And as it did, Anthony suddenly turned to me, his expression serious. "Ophelia, I wasn't being completely honest with you," he began hesitantly. "You're amazing, hardworking, and undoubtedly the best junior lawyer the firm has seen in months. Your passion and drive are remarkable, truly. And...I must admit, it's also…incredibly attractive."
His confession hung in the air, heavy with implications. His words stirred something within me, a mixture of surprise and a budding realisation of the depth of his regard.
Eye contact held, intense and raw, Anthony's gaze bored into mine. His pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the vibrant blue I adored. Long dark lashes cast shadows over his hooded eyes, giving him a seductively mysterious appearance. An insatiable hunger burned within them, drawing me nearer.
And then… our lips collided.
Tongues twisting together feverishly. Passion ignited, spreading rapidly, consuming rational thought. Hands roamed freely, exploring familiar territory yet discovering hidden secrets beneath. Muscles clenched and relaxed under my fingertips as I mapped out every curve and valley of his body.
Pulse racing, hearts synchronised, blood pumping wildly, we shed layers of clothing between urgent kisses. Fabric rustled softly, joining discarded shoes and belts on the floor. Finally exposed, smooth skin greeted my eager touch. Goosebumps scattered across his shoulders, prickling delicately under my caress.
Gripping his waist firmly, I guided him closer, desperate for more contact. He didn't disappoint, showering attention on my neck, collarbone, and breasts. Rough fingertips circled sensitive nipples, sending shockwaves straight to my core. Pleasure pooled low in my belly, heightening my sensitivity.
Sliding further south, he worshipped at the altar of my body. Calloused palms cupped my hips, pulling me flush against his mouth. Warm breath tickled my inner thighs, making me squirm impatiently. Then, without warning, he latched on, sucking hard. My vision blurred, stars bursting behind closed eyelids.
Each lap of his tongue stole another piece of my sanity. Gentle bites alternated with rapid flicks, pushing me closer to climax. Just as I balanced precariously on the edge, he withdrew, denying my release. Instead, he claimed my mouth again, mixing our flavours intimately.
This taste—our taste—was unlike anything else. Salty sweetness combined with musky tang, uniquely ours. Groaning into our shared kiss, I demanded more. Demanded satisfaction. Demanded completion.
Understanding my plea, he positioned himself carefully, hovering above me. Those mesmerising eyes locked onto mine as he sank deep inside. Instinctually, I wrapped my legs around him, locking us together tightly. We breathed each other in, lungs expanding and contracting in harmony.
Thrust after delicious thrust, we lost ourselves in sensation. Hard muscle pressed against soft flesh, creating divine friction. Veins bulged on his forearms as he supported his weight, tendons straining with effort. Sweat dripped steadily from his brow, landing on my chest, cooling quickly against hot skin.
Ragged breathing filled the room, punctuated by hushed whispers of encouragement. Deeper, harder, faster—each word urged us closer to oblivion. Time slowed, stretching thin until nothing existed except us and the rhythm guiding our movements.
Orgasm loomed large, inevitable. Pushed past the brink, my body convulsed violently, milking every drop of pleasure from within. Moments later, Anthony followed suit, emptying himself inside me. Joined physically and emotionally, our souls intertwined, becoming one entity instead of two separate halves.
Sprawled across the office chairs, boneless and exhausted, reality crept slowly back into focus. Limbs entangled, hearts still thrumming erratically, we revelled in the afterglow of our encounter. Microscopic fragments of our intimate exchange floated vividly in my memory: the arch of his eyebrow, the slight curl of his upper lip, the rugged texture of his jawline. These seemingly insignificant details cemented our newfound connection, transforming it from fleeting lust to lasting affection.
After several minutes of quiet contemplation, Anthony broke the silence. Clearing his throat lightly, he glanced towards the scattered papers strewn carelessly around the room. Regaining some semblance of composure, he asked softly, "Shall we get back to work?"
I nodded silently.