He greeted me with a glance, not a word.Around ten, he appeared at my office door with a coffee in hand—mine, apparently, though I hadn’t asked.“Thought you could use it,” he said.I blinked, accepting the cup. Gay porn My body had become attuned to him—his footsteps, his voice, the scent of his cologne drifting through the air like a promise. It wasn’t a demand. There was that smile again—small, deliberate, unreadable.Wednesday morning, he stopped by my desk in a fitted navy suit that seemed tailor-made to show off the taper of his waist, the width of his shoulders. Even the way he held his coffee cup—effortlessly elegant—made my stomach flip.“There’s an old box of trial exhibits down in storage—I was going to ask Peter to grab it, but he’s tied up. His posture was relaxed, but everything about his presence remained taut, alert. Instead, I felt consumed.I wanted him—his attention, his approval, his control. You wouldn’t mind?”I hesitated. 5:45.Just like the day before. Walked to the door. Just a question with plausible deniability. “That’s all. His presence filled the space, not through volume or bluster, but through the steadiness of his voice, the calm precision of his words. The lighting in his office was soft, muted by the golden hour beyond the window,
