Daniel's fingers slid slowly up her thigh, his touch no longer hesitant, no longer unfamiliar—but certain, and dangerously intimate.
Celeste moved with him, as if her body already knew the rhythm. With a calm grace that belied the heat between them, she reached down and unzipped his trousers—slowly, deliberately.
But in that breath between tension and release—
Knock, knock.
The sound split through the moment like a blade.
Celeste's eyes flew wide. She froze, breath caught in her throat, staring up at him.
She ducked beneath the desk. Thankfully, the front was solid, with enough depth and space behind the leather-lined panel for her to curl up and disappear.
Her heart pounded. The ghost of his touch still lingered on her bare skin, and now—layered over it—was a new kind of thrill. Sharp. Electric.
Daniel, reached for his shirt buttons, fastening them one by one while smoothing his collar.
"Come in," Daniel said, his voice level, as if nothing at all had just happened.
But under the desk, he could feel it—her fingers brushing lightly against his thigh again. Subtle. Intentional.
There was no way he didn't feel it.
"Vice President, I've sent over the file you requested," the secretary said, her voice clear from the open doorway.
"Ah… good. Thank you. You've worked hard today. Go on, head home and get some rest....mm."
His tone was even, but there was a rasp at the end—a subtle crack that betrayed him.
"Yes, sir! Then I'll— Oh? Wasn't the President just—?"
A breath caught in Celeste's throat. She didn't dare move. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like it might leap to her mouth.
And then—in her lowered gaze, she saw it.
Peeking through the open fly of his slacks, thick, hard, and undeniably there—him.
Even amidst the tension, its presence burned into her vision. Too close to ignore, too forbidden to touch.
Not now… she told herself. But even as the thought formed, her fingers shifted.
A slow, deliberate caress.
Above the desk, Daniel drew in a breath—shallow, sharp.
He nodded absently to the secretary, pretending to listen, while doing everything he could to keep from reacting to the wicked heat blooming just out of sight.
She eased his boxers down, slowly, and as he sprang free—thick, flushed, already pulsing with heat—she wrapped her hand gently around him.
"W-What?! Oh—Her!...um… I mean… it's just… I…"
Startled by her sudden touch, Daniel lost his words. His breath hitched, and with a flicker of panic in his eyes, he pointed toward the wall beside them.
A hidden door—discreetly set into the paneled surface.
It led directly into the Celeste's office. A passage he had insisted on installing, despite her firm opposition at the time, just so he could reach her whenever he wanted—whenever the need became too strong to ignore.
And now, that selfish little indulgence stood by his side like a silent, loyal accomplice.
Her hand still moved beneath the desk—slow, unseen, stealing his breath with every subtle motion. He clung to his composure by a thread, his voice calm only on the surface.
The secretary followed his gesture and nodded politely.
"Oh, right—this leads to the President's office, doesn't it? I'll stop in and say a quick goodbye before I—"
"No!" he said quickly, raising a hand to stop her.
That was when—everything shifted.
She leaned in. Her lips parted around him—soft, wet, and warm.
She took him in, slowly, inch by inch, until he was wrapped in the heat of her mouth.
Daniel inhaled—slow, shallow—gripping onto the last flickers of reason behind heavy lids. He swallowed the rising heat lodged beneath his throat, forcing it down like a flame denied air.
He tried—desperately—to wear the face of the Vice President once more. Calm. In control. Unmoved.
"A-Ah! No—I mean, actually, um…she's—she's on an important call right now… mm—"
He cleared his throat, voice strained but holding.
"I'll pass the message along for you."
His tone was rushed, slightly too cheerful—borderline manic—but thankfully, the secretary didn't question it.
"Of course. Then I'll see you tomorrow."
With a polite bow, she exited. The door clicked shut behind her, and silence fell over the office once again.
Daniel exhaled—long and trembling—and nudged his chair just a few inches back.
And there she was.
In the dark, beneath the desk, her eyes gleamed with mischief, the kind that tasted of danger and desire.
Tension, temptation, and that sharp thrill of knowing just how far they could go before the world outside remembered to knock again.
Every movement was deliberate. She wanted him to feel all of her.
Not just the heat of her mouth, but the intention—the love—behind it.
He throbbed against her tongue, hips twitching as he tried to hold back, but her pace was unrelenting, her gaze locked onto his.
Every whimper, every curse that fell from his lips, only drove her deeper, until he was panting her name like a prayer.
"Celeste… I—God, I'm…"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
His body tensed, a sharp gasp tore through him—and then he shattered.
He came hard, his grip on her tightening, his entire body jerking beneath her.
She stayed with him through the tremors, letting him spill fully, her hands stroking gently along his thighs as he rode it out.
It wasn't until he sank back into the chair, lungs desperate for air, smile glazed with pleasure, that she finally rose.
Wiping her lips, she crawled up to him slowly.
He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything so painfully beautiful.
And when he spoke—his voice hoarse, eyes glazed—he simply whispered,
"Come here."