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sweetsweetjellybean · 2 years ago

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Anything You Want | Steve Harrington

Mr. Harrington's Secretary AU | 18+ No Minors

Summary: Steve stops by when his father isn't in the office asking for your help with the copier.

TW: FemReader. BJ, Fingering, Tiddy Fucking, P In V Cream Pie. Dirty Talk.

WC: 3909

“Your father isn’t here, Steven.”

His name has you looking up from the thick file spread across your desk. Steve Harrington is standing across the room, his tall body leaning forward, one hand on the older woman’s desk, the other behind his back, holding a small paper bag.

“Well, aren’t you looking nice today, Lorna,” his words drip with sugar. The gray-haired office manager peers over her glasses at him, her ordinarily sour face softening faster than a ripe avocado.

He’s been finding excuses to visit you at work since the first time he found you standing alone at one of the events the company threw semi-regularly. A bunch of rich men congratulating each other on being masters of the universe, dragging along their trophy wives and other accouterments. In John Harrington’s case, that included his charming, handsome son, who would follow in his footsteps, and the hot young secretary that everyone assumed he was chasing around the desk. What the other men telling bad jokes and drinking top shelf scotch didn’t know is that the son wanted nothing to do with his father’s business and the secretary wasn’t putting out.

“Is that a new blouse?” He asks, brushing a little of that golden-brown hair off his forehead, giving her every ounce of his attention.

“It is. I got from the JC Penny last weekend,” she giggles like a woman half her age as he leans closer, giving her that winning Harrington smile.

“I thought so,” he winks, “My dad asked me to pick up a copy of the file he needs, and on my way here, I passed the bakery over on Main, so I stopped in and got your favorite.” He pulls the paper bag out from behind his back and sets it on the desk in front of Lorna.

Her eyes widen, and her mouth forms an O as she pinches the top of the bag and slides it closer, “Thank you, Steven. That was so thoughtful.”

“My pleasure,” he says, rapping his knuckles on her desk twice before straightening and turning towards you, “Do you have that file ready?”

“Which file was that?” you ask, trying to hide your amused smile.

“I think you know,” his tongue darts out, wetting his plush lips as he casually strolls over to your desk.

“Hmmm,” you tap your index finger against your mouth, “Yes, I think I know which one. I still need to make a copy.”

“I can do it,” Lorna calls from her desk, the paper bag crinkling as she pulls out a fluffy cupcake piled high with chocolate frosting.

“You just enjoy that. I’ll give her a hand,” Steve calls over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off you.

Shuffling some papers, you pull a green file folder from the bottom of the stack and hug it to your chest as you push away from your desk, “Thank you, Steven. That would be very helpful.”

His lips twist with a smirk as he follows you down the hall to the copy room, watching your hips sway in the tight skirt that hugs your ass just right.

The overhead fluorescents pop and hum when you flip the switch and step inside the small room with Steve coming in after you, reaching back to twist the lock on the door handle without even looking.

“Where’s my cupcake?” You ask, batting your lashes and tossing the file on top of one of the two copiers that fill the space.

“Your mouth is going to be too busy for cupcakes,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you close as his lips seal over yours. He wastes no time. His tongue pushes inside, stealing your breath. His muscles tense under your fingers as you move your hands up and down his polo-covered chest and moan into the kiss.

“We have to be quiet, honey,” his kisses slow to soft pecks, “Can’t have Lorna figuring out your cumming on company time.”

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”

With his thumb and forefinger holding your chin, he ghosts his lips over yours, “Turn around and put your hands on the copier.”

Taking a moment to consider, you look up at him from under your lashes while letting your hand run down from the center of his chest to the hard bulge in his pants. The corner of your mouth rises when you feel him twitching in his jeans. With a shiver, you let him go and turn around. Exaggerating your movements, you place both hands on the glass plate arching your back and widening your stance as you lean forward. He drops down behind you, wrapping his hands around the front of your knees, drawing circles on the back with his thumbs.

“That tickles,” you giggle, squirming in his hold.

“Shhh,” he reminds you, lips placing an open-mouthed kiss on your calf. The slight roughness of his palms leaves your smooth skin tingling as his hands start their torturously slow slide up your legs, the tip of his nose dragging behind his thumb just before the wet press of his lips and tongue. He’s careful to leave no gaps, mouth a damp trail up the back of your thigh. The material of your skirt bunches against his wrists, rising with his hands. His thumbs tease the hem of your high-cut lace panties as your skirt is pushed higher until it’s rucked up around your hips. He nips the curve between your ass and thigh and soothes it with his tongue before brushing his nose over your center, breathing you in. Slick soaks your panties as you anticipate him pulling them to the side and licking into you, but those big hands stay gripping your hips, and his mouth moves along your pantyline, sucking at the flesh of your ass.

“Steve.”

“What is it, honey?” His question is followed by the pinch of his teeth.

“I need you,” you complain, reaching back, running your fingers through his hair, giving it a tug when he pays you no heed.

“So impatient,” he scolds, rising to his full height, holding you around the middle, sweetly kissing your temple, “Be good for just a little longer. I need a picture of my pretty girl for my wallet.”

“A picture? Wha-“

He spins you around quickly and cuts you off with his hungry lips, his hands slide down your waist until they wrap around the back of your thighs, and he lifts you onto the copier. A squeak of protest passes from your mouth to his when your hot skin comes in contact with the cool glass, and you rock from side to side, but he doesn’t relent. Holding you in place with a hand on your neck, his tongue tangles with yours, keeping you focused on his kiss as his other hand starts the copier whirring. A light flashes under you, moving from left to right, followed by the whoosh and click of papers printed with a black and white copy of the globes of your ass barely covered by your underwear.

“That’s what you wanted?” you giggle against his lips.

“Uh-huh,” he smiles, ending the kiss by resting his forehead against yours, “but that’s not the only thing I want.” His hand smooths up your thigh until he can rub over the damp patch on your panties. His smirk returns when your mouth drops open, and you inhale sharply.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He moves his hand away from where you want it and uses the backs of his fingers to brush your heated cheek.

“So soft,” his index finger trails from the collar of your silky shirt until he reaches the first button where it’s joined by the fingers from his other hand, “But not as soft as what’s underneath.” He leans forward, attaching his lips to your neck while he works them open. His mouth moves lower as he spreads open your shirt, kissing down the swell of your breast to the edge of the delicate lace. He pulls away to take in the sight of what he’s just uncovered.

“Beautiful,” the word floats breathy from his lips as he unhooks the metal clasp between your tits. Peeling back one side at a time, his eyes turn dreamy and heavy-lidded as he drinks you in. His hands move to cup your breasts, loving the way you fill them. The first touch of his lips against your pebbled nipple has the breath rushing from your lungs in a quiet whine. He sucks hard while swirling his tongue, a satisfied hum rumbling from his throat.

“Oh, fuuu,” you bite down on your lip to keep from cursing. He smiles against you, taking his time before moving to your other side, sucking until you’re tipping your head back and arching into him. The copier creaks as you squirm, trying to relieve the growing ache.

“Please,” clutching at shoulders, pulling his head up so you can look into his eyes, “Please, Steve.”

His breath comes quickly through parted lips that hover an inch from yours. The inky black of his pupils crowds out the hazel. He reaches out to trace your kiss-stung bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, but you hold his large hand between both of yours and suck his thumb into your mouth.

“How about a few more pictures? With my hands on you. Would you like that?”

Whining in desperate confirmation, your hands join his on the copier to lift your hips and slide down your panties. They only make it to mid-thigh when you’re grabbing his hand and pressing it to your needy cunt.

“Jesus,” his fingers part your wet lips to explore your slippery folds, “You’re dripping onto the glass.”

He curls back his other fingers, so just his index and middle circle your clit before sliding down to tease your entrance. Your grip on his wrist tightens as you whimper, rocking your hips, trying to get him inside you.

“All this from a few kisses?”

Two thick fingers push inside you, replacing the ache with a stretch. He keeps going, curving his fingers to reach the spot that only he’s been able to find, deep enough that his thumb can rub circles around your pulsing bundle of nerves. It takes every ounce of your will to not cry out at the onslaught of pleasure.

“There you go, honey. I’ll always give you what you want.”

Fisting the front of his shirt, you draw him closer, eyes fluttering closed as your lips connect and your tongue slides against his. Blue-green flashes permeate the darkness behind your lids as the machine captures images of his fingers disappearing inside you. More wetness trickles, aiding his movements when you realize all this is to satisfy his need to have you even when you’re apart.

“You make me feel so good,” you whisper, taking his bottom lip between yours.

“Yeah?” He asks, licking into your mouth, increasing the pace of his fingers, “Am I gonna make you cum?”

“Mmmhmm,” you moan around his lips and tongue as your inner muscles tighten, and you begin your climb. With your fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck, you relax into his kiss. There’s no need to chase it, you can trust him to get you there. He always does.

“That’s it,” he says, feeling you fluttering around him, “You get so tight,” his fingers don’t stop even when the lighting hits and your legs shake, “Give me just a little more.”

Clutching onto him, your fingers dig into his skin as your body jolts uncontrollably. He covers your mouth with his trying to muffle your cries, and keeps working you until you just can’t –it’s too much. His fingers slow to a gentle in and out, his thumb comes off your clit. He lets you come down, resting his forehead against yours, tiny kisses wherever his lips can reach without moving you.

“I’m going to lunch,” Lorna shouts, her voice slightly muffled behind the closed door.

“Okay,” you yell, grinning at Steve, shaking your head, “We’re almost done.”

“She’s coming,” he calls, as his thumb taps your clit, sending an aftershock rocketing through you.

“Alright. Back in an hour,” she hollers right before the outer office door squeaks and clicks shut.

The smug look on his face has you pushing at his shoulder, silently scolding him. He chuckles, his face taking on a well-practiced look of innocence even as he pulls his finger from inside you and licks them clean. He kisses you once to share the taste before helping you down from the copier.

“Can you hand me my underwear?”

“We’re not done,” his hands close over your fingers, stopping you from straightening your clothes, “I have an idea. Come with me.”

He twists the lock on the door handle, sticking his head out to confirm the office is empty, and grabs your hand pulling you out of the copier room, barely dressed.

“Steeeve,” you squeal as you move through the empty office, gripping the front of your shirt to keep it closed until you’re standing in front of Mr. Harrington’s locked office door.

“Where did you get that?” Your eyes widen when he pulls a key from his pocket and inserts it smoothly into the lock. The corner of his mouth raises in a sly smile as the door opens, and he ushers you inside, closing the door behind you.

The blinds are drawn with their slats partially open, creating vertical lines of light against the navy blue carpet and large cherry desk. Steve flips one of the switches next to the door, turning on the three two stained glass lamps that flank the large built-in bookcase behind the desk, lighting up the room with soft light.

“What’s this idea?” The slickness between your legs, reminding you still have another hour before anyone will return. Steve planned this well.

“Well,” he pulls out the high-backed leather chair from the desk, turning towards the side before sitting with his legs spread wide, hands moving to his belt, “What do you think? Wanna get on your knees for me, honey?”

“Hmmm,” you pretend to consider his offer as you round the desk trailing your fingertips on the shiny finish of the desk, moving until you’re standing between his parted legs, looking down at the outline of the hard cock straining against his jeans. Gripping the top of the chair, you lean it back, bending slightly, bringing you level with his face. His hands move to your open shirt, pushing it back away from your breasts so he can knead them. His mouth chases yours, but you deny him, nipping his top lip lightly before slowly dropping to your knees.

“Fuck,” his hips jump as you pop open the button on his jeans and slide down the zipper.

“Is this why I didn’t get a cupcake?” You pout, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and he raises his hips so you can slip them down, his thick length bobbing out from his body finally freed. Pink with a long veiny shaft that’s just as pretty as the rest of him.

“Oh, I think what you’re getting is a much bigger treat.” His eyes close for a moment as your hand wraps around the base, and you kiss the smooth, shiny tip. It’s your turn to smirk when his lids open revealing eyes that are almost black. Opening your mouth, you stick out your tongue, letting it sweep around the head before licking up and down the length.

“Mmm,” the vibrations from your lips tease his sensitive spot, “I think you’re right.” You take another long lick before finally taking as much of him as you can into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks while your hand works the base.

A groan rumbles from behind his clenched teeth, “Look at you,” he smooths some hair back from your face as you bob up and down on his cock, “I bet every man in this office wants to see you like this, but you’re mine,” his hips rise, fucking into your mouth, “They can’t have you.”

Sticking your tongue out, you let him use your mouth until your jaw starts to ache. He doesn’t stop flexing when you switch to your hand, licking at his slit, running your tongue along the underside until reaching the base to gently suck one of his heavy balls.

“Christ,” his fingers tightly grip the leather arm of the chair as the precum starts leaking from his tip, and you move your mouth back up his shaft, collecting it before it drips. He sneaks a hand between you, rolling your nipple with the rough pads of his fingers, the zap of electricity that shoots to your core, highlighting how wet and needy you’ve become.

Pulling back, you rise higher on your knees, smiling as you run your hands up from your hips to the softness of your chest. Steve’s breath hitches, and his lips part as you lean forward, fitting his cock in the valley of your breasts, pushing them together, bouncing them up and down his shaft.

“Jesus-fuck-baby,” his words string together, his hips jumping in the chair involuntarily. A whimper comes from you at the sight of his rudy leaking tip sliding up your chest, your tongue snaking out to chase it.

“Fuck, that’s enough,” he pants, using his feet to push the chair back, the wheels squeaking. He stares at you breathing hard, and you know how wild you must look. Hair a mess. Lips red and swollen. Clothes open and askew.

“Bend over the desk. I want to feel you squeezing me when I cum.”

Desperation launches you both into a flurry. Steve stands quickly, shoving his pants further down his thighs, sending the desk chair careening backward into a bookcase. While you’re off the floor, positioning yourself over the polished wooden desk, tugging your skirt high around your waist, pushing back your hips, ready to take anything he’ll give you.

“Plea‐”

“I’m here,” he wraps a hand around your thigh, bringing one of your knees to the edge of the desk, opening your sticky wetness to the cool air, “I won’t make you wait.”

With a hand around his base, he glides through your folds, back and forth, making you throb until his tip catches at your entrance and pushes in slowly, letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. Your muscles stretch and clench, trying to draw him in deeper.

“That’s it, good girl. Take it all,” he groans, moving until he’s bottomed out and his hips are pressed tight against you. Through the thick fog of lust and need, there’s a brief moment spent savoring the connection before he begins to move in long, hard strokes, pulling out almost all the way before driving in with the snap of his hips. The desk jerks across the carpet, and an organizer falls, spilling its contents, pens embossed with Harrington roll under the furniture. White dots burst in your vision with every thrust. You’re burning for him. He struck the match the evening you met, and you’ll never have enough.

“This is where I belong,” his hand slides around your hip, pressing down just above your pubic bone, feeling himself moving inside you, “Right here in your warm cunt. Want you to feel me for the rest of the day,” his fingers move lower until they’re drawing circles over your clit, “I need you to cum for me.”

His rhythm picks up, making the fire burn hotter. Your body tightens, obeying him without giving you a choice. Twisting to look over your shoulder, you grab at his shirt, bringing him closer until your gasping mouths meet.

“Anything,” it’s a whisper against his lips, a spark from the blaze.

“What, honey?” The question rises with the smoke.

“Anything you want.”

A line creases his brow, and there’s something behind his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. He spins you back around, wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest, your knee falling from the desk. He’s holding you together when you’re so close to falling apart. His mouth moves up your neck to your ear.

“Just want this,” he adds more pressure to the hand working between your thighs. Tiny circles that feel closer to a cyclone, “Just want you,” he moves in short bursts like he can’t bear to leave, right at the edge, swelling inside you, “Always want you.”

You let go into the white-hot flame, but you’re not alone. It consumes you both. Crying out, you quake around him, feeling his hot release, hearing his satisfied groans. Your bodies writhe until all that’s left is embers. The wall clocks measured ticks seem louder, the only sound in the now quiet room apart from both of your shuddering breaths.

He presses a kiss to the silk covering your shoulder and begins slipping away. Your muscles contract in protest, trying to keep him longer, but he’s right. Once he’s gone, you can still feel him. He moves around you, helping you clean up, straightening the disarray.

“Why are you still here, Steven?” Lorna frowns disapprovingly at the way Steve is perched on the corner of her desk, with one of her picture frames in his hand.

“Is this your daughter?”

She snatches the frame from his hand as you quietly make your way back from the restroom with all your buttons buttoned and hair smoothed back into place. Taking your seat you pick up the small stack of photocopies tapping them on the desk to straighten them.

“Doesn’t your father need that file?” She questions.

“That’s right he does,” he snaps his fingers like he just remembered,” I better get going. I just didn’t want to leave this pretty girl all alone,” he looks over his shoulder at you, giving you a wink. She sighs loudly and goes about settling at her desk.

The black and white images of his hands and your panties are hidden when you fold the papers into thirds before stuffing them in an envelope and holding it in the air, waiting for him to come and take it from you. Looking smug, he wanders over collecting his prize from your outstretched hand.

“Listen,” he says, leaning close, keeping his voice low, “Can I take you out tonight? Buy you dinner?”

“Hmm, that depends, Steven,” you busy yourself with the files on the desk, “Is there going to be dessert?”

“I’ll pick you up at six,” the confident Harrington smile stretches across his face. He doesn’t say anything else, just a wave to Lorna as he disappears through the door, envelope in hand. Your eyes follow him through the window glass, watching as he ducks into his BMW and drives off.

“Ahem,” Lorna clears her throat, breaking you from your stare, “I’d nip that in the bud if I were you. That boy’s got a crush, and it’s gonna lead to nothing but trouble.”

“Of course,” you say, turning towards the screen of your word processor, fingers clicking across the keyboard as you type up a letter. Satisfied with your answer she goes back to her work. Glancing up at the clock, you count the hours until six, the ache between your thighs reminds you that trouble is exactly what you want.

@loveshotzz @superblysubpar @boomhauer @myobmaya @litereader

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