Imani strutted into the office, the senior vice president’s eyes immediately drawn to her short, pleated skirt that barely covered her luscious thighs. The thin fabric of her blouse left little to the imagination, hinting at the full, round breasts that bounced with each confident step.

She sauntered past his desk, giving him a sly, playful smile as she settled into her own chair. “Good morning, Mr. Thompson,” she purred, crossing her legs to showcase the tantalizing view.

Thompson, a tall, muscular man in his early 40s, felt a familiar stir in his loins. He had always found Imani irresistible, her exotic beauty and provocative demeanor driving him to distraction. Their professional relationship was a delicate balancing act, but they both knew the tension between them was a delicious game they played for mutual pleasure.

Throughout the morning, Imani made sure to keep his attention fixed on her. She leaned forward to discuss reports, her blouse straining against the swell of her breasts. She laughed at his jokes, the sound music to his ears. And whenever she rose to stretch or retrieve something from her drawer, she made sure to bend over just enough to give him a glimpse down the front of her skirt.

By lunchtime, Thompson’s patience was wearing thin. He couldn’t concentrate on his work, his thoughts consumed by the creamy curves of Imani’s ass and the way her nipples seemed to harden with every teasing glance. He finally snapped, calling her into his office under the guise of a meeting.

As soon as the door closed behind her, he rose from his chair and backed her against the desk. “Imani,” he growled, his hands cupping her full hips. “You know exactly what you do to me, don’t you?”

Imani’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe,” she breathed, pressing her chest against his solid chest.

Thompson’s fingers found the button of her skirt and deftly released it. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling around her ankles as he hooked his thumbs into her thong. With a swift tug, the delicate lace joined her skirt on the floor.

“I’ve been thinking,” he murmured, his hands sliding up her thighs to graze the slick heat between them. “Maybe it’s time we take this game to the next level.”

Imani’s head fell back as his fingers delved into her dripping arousal. “Whatever you want, Mr. Thompson,” she moaned, her hands fisting in his suit jacket.

He grinned, his cock throbbing with anticipation. With a swift movement, he spun Imani around and pressed her onto the desk. Her breasts pressed against the cold wood as he stepped between her thighs, his erection straining against his slacks.

“Let’s show the rest of the office how professionals really work,” he whispered, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her neck.

And with that, the passionate affair between Imani and her white boss began in earnest, their forbidden trysts becoming a sizzling secret known only to the two of them.