As Maria spoke softly to Sara and Nancy, her voice smooth as silk, Stella moved with quiet purpose. Her heels clicked gently against the floor as she made her way to William Moro's office. There was a grace to her steps, an eagerness hidden beneath her calm expression. To the others, she looked like a woman on a simple errand, but Stella's heart raced with gratitude.
It's because of him I'm here. Because of him, I have a place in this dream.
She pushed open the heavy door without hesitation, stepping inside and closing it gently behind her. The room was large, bathed in soft morning light, with rich wooden shelves lining the walls and the faint scent of leather and spice in the air.
And there, at the center of it all, William Moro.
Naked.
Calm.
At ease in his own skin, as natural and confident as a king upon his throne.
But to Stella, it felt no more strange than if he'd been dressed in a suit. This was their world. This was normal.
"Good morning, sir," Stella said, her voice warm, sincere, her eyes shining with admiration.
"Good morning, Stella," William replied, his smile gentle, his eyes kind.
They spoke for a while, their words easy, familiar. Stella shared her gratitude, her hopes, and William listened with quiet patience, his presence filling the room like sunlight.
Finally, she lowered her gaze slightly, shy but bold, and said, "Sir, may I… have your blessing? For this new path?"
William reached out, his fingers brushing a lock of hair from her face. His voice was soft, like a caress.
"It's always with you, my love."
Without thinking, without fear, Stella stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. His warmth enveloped her, his strength steady and sure. But as she moved to step back, William's arms held her gently in place.
Their eyes met.
And then, as naturally as breathing, their lips found each other, slow at first, then deeper, filled with a longing that felt both sacred and wild.
Their bodies pressed so close that it felt like no air could pass between them. William's hands roamed Stella's form with a perfect blend of tenderness and hunger, tracing every curve like he was learning her by heart. His fingers brushed the small of her back, drawing shivers along her spine, before sliding lower, cupping her with a firm possessiveness that made her knees weak.
Stella melted against him, her breath a soft gasp against his neck, the heat of his skin searing hers. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, thick with their shared desire. She could feel the hard length of him, ready and demanding, pressing into her softness, as if urging her to surrender completely.
William's mouth found hers again, but this time it was no tender kiss, it was deep, consuming, his tongue claiming hers with a hunger that made her moan low in her throat. His hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head just so, deepening the kiss until she felt dizzy from the lack of air, from the weight of his need.
Her own hands, as if guided by instinct, slid down his back, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath his skin, the sheer strength that held her close. Clothes slipped from her shoulders, from her hips, as though the fabric itself was eager to fall away and leave them bare. The soft rustle of silk and cotton hitting the polished floor sounded like a promise, of what would follow.
William lifted her with ease, his hands gripping the curve of her thighs, spreading her legs around his waist as he carried her to the broad desk at the center of the room. The wood was cool against her heated skin as he laid her down, his lips never leaving hers for long, his breath mingling with hers in the space between kisses.
His mouth explored her, her throat, the hollow of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. His tongue traced circles that made her arch beneath him, his teeth grazing sensitive skin until she whimpered, caught between pleasure and aching need.
And when at last he entered her, it was with a slow, deliberate thrust that filled her completely, that stole her breath and made the world fall away.
They moved together, bodies rising and falling like a tide, like a storm that had no end. His pace shifted, slow at first, drawing out the tension, then faster, harder, each thrust making the desk creak beneath them, making her cry out his name in a voice she barely recognized as her own.
His hands and mouth never stopped, claiming, worshiping, making her feel like she was the only thing in existence. Stella clung to him, her nails leaving marks on his back, her legs tightening around him as wave after wave of sensation crashed through her.
Time seemed to stretch and blur, the room, the office, the world beyond, forgotten in the heat of their union. And when at last the peak came, it took them both in a rush of gasps and trembling, their bodies locked together, slick with shared heat, hearts thundering as one.
But even as they caught their breath, William's hands stayed on her skin, his lips soft against her temple, his voice low with promise.
"This is only the beginning, my love."
And beyond the door, the office waited, unaware, or perhaps approving, of the star-born lust that had burned so bright within those walls.
They moved together, not in secrecy, not in shame, but as if this was as much a part of their duty as signing a contract or typing a report. But oh, it was so much more.
Their bodies swayed in a rhythm older than time, as if an unseen melody played only for them. William's hands guided Stella's hips, his touch both master and worshipper, leading her through this dance of lust and longing. Each thrust was like a step in their private ballet, their bodies gliding, rising, falling, a perfect harmony of need and surrender.
Stella clung to him, her nails pressing into his back, her breath mingling with his, hot and fast, as if they were trying to breathe each other in, to become one in every way that mattered. Her hair spilled around them like a dark curtain, shutting out the world, leaving only the heat of his skin, the strength of his arms, the hunger in his gaze.
Their lips met again and again, not just in kisses, but in desperate, devouring unions, mouths seeking, claiming, tasting. His tongue traced the line of her jaw, down her throat, to the place where her pulse raced wild beneath his lips. She arched into him, offering herself without question, without fear, as if she had waited her whole life for this single dance.
The desk beneath them became their stage, creaking softly beneath their rhythm, but neither noticed, neither cared. The only sound that mattered was the music of their bodies, the soft slap of skin against skin, the sighs and gasps, the whispered names that fell from trembling lips.
And when he moved within her, it was like poetry written in motion, slow, deep strokes that made her whimper, made her body rise to meet his, seeking more, always more. His hands explored her as if he could memorize her with his fingers, trace her soul beneath her skin.
Their eyes met, and there, in that gaze, was no office, no job, no world outside. There was only them. His blue-gray eyes burned with passion, with devotion, with the kind of need that tore down walls and left nothing but truth. Stella's gaze answered, her heart laid bare, her soul offered freely.
Faster now, their bodies met with greater urgency, the tempo of their dance building, the fire between them burning hotter, brighter, until it consumed them both. The world beyond the office faded, the past and future forgotten, only the now, only the joining of flesh and spirit.
And when the peak came, it was like falling into the stars. Their cries rose together, their bodies trembling, locked tight, the final note of their symphony of pleasure ringing in the silent air.
But still they held each other, as if afraid to let go, as if the music might start again if they stayed close enough, long enough. His lips brushed her brow, her cheek, her lips once more, soft now, reverent.
"This is our truth," William whispered, his voice raw, filled with meaning only they could understand.
And Stella knew it was. In that moment, in that dance, they had become more than lovers, they were one soul, one body, written together in the language of desire.
Their passion filled the room, a private symphony of sighs and soft gasps, of skin on skin, of love wrapped tight in lust.
The door opened, and Amanda entered, calm and poised, her eyes filled with knowing.
"Sir, it's time to officially greet the freshers."
William didn't look away from Stella. His hand caressed her cheek, his voice low, rich with promise.
"Ten minutes."
Amanda nodded once, stepping out silently, leaving them to their union.
And in those moments that followed, William and Stella gave in fully, their connection deep and fiery, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm, as if the world beyond the office didn't exist at all.
And unluckily, I even saw that from my desk. My mind told me, this is a maze no one knows they are trapped in, but me.