Chapter 74: Managing Assets ***
Ryan stood up slowly, the chair wheels whispering against the carpet.
His fingers were still slick, shiny in the low blue light from the windows, and he looked at them for a second like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done.
Then his eyes lifted to Diana.
She was trying to pull herself back together. One hand reached up to push her reading glasses higher on her nose, the other smoothing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
The motion was precise, almost automatic – the same way she’d straighten a stack of papers in a boardroom.
Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing still uneven, but she was fighting to get that boss mask back on. The expensive suit was still perfectly buttoned, skirt smoothed down as much as it could be, like if she just looked composed enough the last ten minutes would stop existing.
Ryan reached for the tie still hanging loose around his neck. The silk was warm from his skin. He pulled it free with one slow tug, letting it slide through his fingers.
"Stand up," he said quietly.
Diana hesitated, then did. Her heels clicked once on the floor as she rose from the chair. She was as tall as than him in those shoes, but the way she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes made her seem smaller somehow.
He stepped close, close enough that he could smell the faint trace of her perfume mixed with the scent of what he’d just done to her. "Hands behind your back, Diana."
Her breath caught. "Ryan..."
He waited. Didn’t move the tie. Just held it between them like a question.
She swallowed once, then turned slightly and put her hands behind her. The movement made her chest push forward in the tailored jacket, the top button still open from earlier.
Ryan looped the silk around her wrists, tying it snug but not tight – enough to keep her there but not hurt. The knot was simple, efficient. When he was done he gave the fabric a gentle tug, testing it. Her shoulders pulled back a fraction, the silk whispering against her skin.
"There," he said, voice low. "No more gatekeeping. Not tonight."
Diana’s lips parted like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor somewhere near his shoes.
The powerful woman who’d written the term sheet for his company, who’d stared down investors twice her age, was standing in her own office with her wrists bound by his tie and her thighs still trembling from how hard she’d come on his fingers.
Ryan reached out and brushed a thumb across her bottom lip. "You’re so good at managing assets, Diana. All those millions. All those founders. All those careful decisions." He let his hand drop, tracing down the front of her jacket. "So manage this one for me."
She looked up at him then – finally. Her eyes were dark behind the glasses, uncertain in a way he’d never seen before.
"Ryan, this is... we still have the file. The second meeting. If anyone – "
"Shh." He stepped back just enough to give her space, then nodded toward the floor in front of him. "On your knees."
A flicker of protest crossed her face – real this time, the last scrap of the woman who ran the room. "We can’t do this here. Not like this. My hands – "
"You can," he said, calm but firm. "Kneel, Diana."
She stood there for another heartbeat, wrists bound behind her, chest rising and falling faster. Then her shoulders dropped, just a fraction, and she sank down.
The movement was graceful even now – knees folding, heels staying on, the expensive suit stretching across her thighs as she settled on the carpet.
The city lights painted soft reflections across her glasses. Her hair was still mostly pinned up, but a few more strands had come loose and curled against her cheek.
She looked up at him from the floor, wrists tied tight behind her back, mouth level with the obvious bulge in his slacks. A $2,000 suit on her knees. Silk binding her. Reading glasses slightly fogged from earlier.
Ryan’s hand went to his belt, unbuckling it slow. "That’s it. Look at you. How many that see you as untouchable could even imagine this sight, you on your knees with hands bound behind your back."
Diana’s breath trembled out. "This is insane."
"Yeah," he agreed, unzipping. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, the head already slick. "But you’re still here. Still looking up at me like that."
He stepped closer. The tip brushed her bottom lip. She didn’t pull away.
"Open," he said softly.
She hesitated.
"Open Diana,"
She did.
Her lips parted, and he slid in – slow at first, letting her adjust, the wet heat of her mouth closing around him.
Diana moaned around his cock, the sound muffled and desperate. With her hands tied she couldn’t grip him, couldn’t control the angle. She had to take what he gave her, head tilting back slightly, glasses catching the light every time she moved.
Ryan groaned low, one hand sliding into her hair. "Fuck... that’s good. Use your tongue how you use it in every meeting – precise and careful."
She did. Her tongue swirled around the head, then flattened along the underside as he rocked deeper.
The glasses fogged more. A thin line of spit escaped the corner of her mouth and trailed down her chin, landing on the lapel of her jacket.
She looked obscene and perfect – powerful woman reduced to this, wrists bound, mouth full, eyes watering but never looking away.
Ryan kept his voice steady, even while his hips moved in shallow thrusts. "Tell me about the next meeting. What’s the likely question Morales is gonna ask?"
Diana made a choked sound around him, trying to answer even as she sucked. The words came out garbled, vibrating against his cock. "He’ll... he’ll want the... the bank statements again – "
"Good girl." Ryan pushed a little deeper, feeling her throat flutter. "Keep talking. Don’t stop."
She tried. Between slow, wet bobs of her head she forced out fragments – something about the consulting verifications, something about the disbursement language – while her lips stretched tight around him and her tongue worked relentlessly.
Every time she pulled back for air a string of spit connected her mouth to his cock, glistening in the low light.
Her shoulders flexed against the tie, testing it, but she didn’t try to break free. She just kept sucking, deeper now, taking more of him each time, the wet sounds filling the quiet office.
Ryan’s grip tightened in her hair, guiding her rhythm. "You’re managing this asset so well, Diana. Doing it on your knees in your own office, how dedicated."
A desperate moan vibrated through her. Her thighs pressed together under the skirt, like she was aching again already.
Ryan could see the flush on her neck, the way her chest heaved inside the tailored jacket. She was completely vulnerable – hands tied, mouth full, the powerful gatekeeper reduced to worship.
He rocked deeper, hitting the back of her throat, and held there for a second. Diana’s eyes watered but she didn’t pull away. She swallowed around him instead, throat working, glasses slipping down her nose.
"Fuck," Ryan breathed. "Just like that. You’re so good at this."
He pulled back enough for her to breathe, then slid in again, slower, savoring the heat and the way she looked up at him through the fogged lenses.
Spit dripped onto her chin, onto the silk of his tie binding her wrists.
Ryan didn’t rush. He let her work – slow, deep pulls of her mouth, tongue swirling, eyes locked on his the whole time.
Every few seconds he’d ask another soft question about the IRS file, and every time she’d try to answer around his cock, words broken and muffled and desperate.
The contrast made his head spin – the precise, authoritative Diana Lockridge gagging and moaning and still trying to sound professional.
He felt himself getting close, the pressure building tight at the base of his spine. His hand tightened in her hair.
"Gonna come," he warned, voice rough. "And you’re gonna take every drop. Understand?"
Diana nodded as much as she could with him filling her mouth, eyes wide behind the glasses, wrists still bound tight behind her back.
Ryan groaned low and let go, pulsing hard down her throat.
She swallowed around him, again and again, not spilling a single drop, her throat working until he was completely empty.
Only then did he ease back, cock slipping from her swollen lips with a wet sound.
Diana stayed on her knees, breathing hard, a thin string of spit still connecting her bottom lip to the head of his cock.
Her glasses were crooked. Her hair was a mess. The silk tie was damp where it bound her wrists. She looked up at him, flushed and wrecked and still so fucking beautiful it made no sense.
Ryan brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, wiping the spit away.
"Good girl," he murmured. "Very good."
The office wws still quiet except for her shaky breathing and the low hum of a city far below.