Ethan Alencar

Diana

“Open your legs if you want me to fuck you real good,”

the deep voice whispered in my ear.

A violent shiver ran down my spine on the spot.

It wasn’t just the dirty line — which alone would’ve been enough to make me lose my mind — it was the voice. I knew that voice.

It was Ethan’s voice.

My heart almost jumped out of my mouth. My mind wanted to question, wanted to rationalize…

But my body?

My body told reason to fuck off.

And when I felt his weight on top of me — hot, strong, dominant — I stopped thinking altogether. I just felt.

He entered me in one hard, merciless thrust.

A moan ripped through my throat — loud, desperate.

The sensation was insane.

Even with my pussy dripping wet, slick, he was so hard he felt like a damn living rock.

The thrusts started deep and steady, hitting every spot inside me like he knew my body better than I did.

I clung to him, wrapping my legs around his strong waist, pulling him closer, wanting him deeper, wanting him more mine.

“Yes…” I gasped, breathless and completely gone. “Harder…”

And just like that, he did it.

No words — just a low, raspy growl in my ear.

That sound — rough, dark, primal — drove me absolutely insane.

I didn’t want to pretend I was strong anymore.

I wanted to belong to him.

There, in that moment, blindfolded, tied up, being fucked by a man who might just be my biggest secret desire.

The thrusts got faster, harder, and every one dragged a needy moan from my lips.

The pleasure built up, rising like a storm inside me.

My muscles clenched, my skin burned, my soul floated.

And when he changed the angle, hitting that one perfect spot,

I screamed.

The orgasm tore through me in violent waves, ripping my whole body apart in pure pleasure.

I shook all over, crying, moaning, falling apart under him.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept going — rougher now, almost brutal — like he wanted to suck every last drop of pleasure from me.

And I fucking loved it.

Then I felt his body start to tense, his moans getting deeper, more animalistic —

until he came inside me, hard enough to almost take me over the edge again.

We stayed like that.

Clinging to each other, breathless, sweaty, completely lost.

No words.

Just tangled breaths and the overwhelming feeling that I would never be the same after that night.

“You’re seriously obsessed with this guy,”

Carol said, rolling her eyes as she threw herself onto my couch.

“There’s no way someone like Ethan Alencar goes to places like that.”

“I swear it was his voice,”

I insisted, scooping brigadeiro into a little glass bowl.

“If it wasn’t him, then he has a long-lost dominant twin out there somewhere.”

Carol let out a mocking laugh, stealing a spoonful of brigadeiro before I could even set it down.

“Diana, come on — use your brain,”

she said, looking at me like I was a stubborn child.

“You were blindfolded, in a totally strange place, being taken to heaven by a mystery man. Of course your brain went straight to your forbidden crush. You’re so obsessed with Ethan you can’t even enjoy pleasure without imagining it’s him.”

I rolled my eyes, but deep down…

I knew she had a point.

Still, the memory of that voice echoing in my head felt so real… so hot…

A part of me still believed it was him.

Even if it sounded like total madness.

The rest of Sunday went by in my favorite way: me and Carol sprawled on the couch, binge-watching K-dramas on Netflix, eating brigadeiro, pretending adult life didn’t exist.

I needed to rest — after Saturday night’s insanity, my body felt like it had been through a war.

So I let myself switch off.

And honestly?

I shoved the whole “did I just orgasm to my boss’s voice?” situation under the rug.

Deep under.

But Monday didn’t care.

Eight a.m. sharp, there I was: perfect outfit, heels on, coffee in hand, butt in the receptionist’s chair — the picture-perfect secretary I pretended to be.

Ethan walked in right after, as serious as ever...

But this time, he looked straight at me and said:

“Good morning.”

Yep.

The infamous Ethan Alencar told me good morning.

I nearly fell out of my chair.

This man was not known for being polite.

In fact, for the past few years, he barely acknowledged my existence outside of memos and meeting notes.

The rest of the day was the usual chaos: endless paperwork, boring meetings, annoying clients, and that perfectly disorganized mess only office workers understand.

But because trouble loves a tired woman, exactly at 6 p.m. — just thirty sweet little minutes before I could clock out — the sexy bastard walked out of his office in that expensive suit, looking like the very definition of a dominant CEO and said:

“Diana, bring me the report from the last meeting with Mr. Sanches, with the updated files.”

Translation:

“Forget your freedom, sweetheart. You’re not leaving here before 9 p.m.”

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to curse.

But what did I do?

Smiled like a dumbass and nodded.

Truth is?

That bastard knew exactly how to drive me insane.

I got the files together quickly — 30 minutes on the dot — and marched into His Royal Hotness’s office.

I knocked, using my most professional voice:

“Excuse me, Mr. Alencar.”

He was there, dead serious behind the desk, buried in paperwork. Didn’t even look up.

I walked in, closed the door, and handed him the files.

I tried a slick move:

“Here are the files you asked for. If that’s all, I’ll be heading home.”

I threw the bait, all hopeful.

But of course…

“Thank you, Diana. But there’s one more thing,”

he said — that deep voice again, without even looking up.

Before I could ask what thing, Ethan stood up, walked around the desk… and locked the door.

He locked the fucking door.

My heart jumped into my throat.

And if that wasn’t enough, he also closed all the blinds.

Suddenly, the little slut in my brain started going places. Wild, filthy places…

He walked toward me, his scent hitting me full force, making me dizzy.

Without a word, he grabbed my waist like I was a doll and sat me on top of his desk.

I couldn’t think straight. My heart was beating like a damn drumline.

And then… it happened.

He kissed me.

And holy shit… what a kiss.

It was urgent, hot, hungry.

I didn’t even pretend to resist.

I kissed him back like my life depended on it.

I mean — come on — the man I’d wanted more than anyone was kissing me.

What was I supposed to do?

Run?

Hell no.

His hands gripped my waist, pulling me into him.

And in the middle of all that heat, he leaned in and whispered in my ear:

“Saturday night was delicious.”

My eyes flew open.

My body froze.

It wasn’t a dirty fantasy.

I had actually fucked my boss.