The conference room door slammed behind them, and Maya didn’t wait for the echo to die before she rounded on him. “You stole my pitch, you arrogant prick. That client was mine.”
Derek’s jaw flexed, eyes dark with the same contempt they’d traded for two years. “Your pitch was weak. I fixed it. You’re welcome.”
“Fuck you,” she spat, stepping closer until her chest brushed his. The air between them had always crackled with hate, but tonight it felt thicker, heavier, like it might snap.
“Yeah?” he growled, voice low and rough. “You keep saying that like you don’t want it.”
Her hand flew up to slap him, but he caught her wrist and yanked her flush against him. Their mouths crashed together hard, teeth clashing, tongues fighting. It wasn’t a kiss; it was a continuation of the fight. Maya bit his lower lip and tasted blood. Derek groaned and shoved her back against the table, hands already yanking her blouse open. Buttons scattered.
“Been wanting to shut that smart mouth for months,” he muttered, palping her breasts through her bra before ripping it down. He sucked a nipple hard, teeth scraping, and Maya’s hips jerked forward on instinct.
“Shut up and fuck me already,” she hissed, fingers tearing at his belt. She freed his cock—thick, hot, already leaking—and wrapped her hand around it, stroking rough and fast. “God, even your dick is an asshole.”
Derek laughed once, dark and breathless, then spun her around and bent her over the table. He shoved her skirt up, yanked her panties aside, and drove two fingers straight into her cunt. She was soaked, dripping down his knuckles.
“Listen to that,” he said, pumping hard. “Hate me all you want, but this pussy’s begging for it.”
Maya pushed back onto his fingers, grinding. “Just do it. Fuck me like you mean it.”
He didn’t need more invitation. He pulled his fingers out, lined up, and slammed his cock into her in one brutal thrust. Maya cried out, fingers scrabbling at the polished wood. He was big, stretching her wide, and he didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her like he argued—fast, deep, relentless. Skin slapped. The table creaked. Every stroke punched a filthy sound out of her.
“Harder,” she demanded. “Come on, show me what you’ve got.”
Derek grabbed her hair, yanked her head back, and pounded harder, hips snapping. “Take it, you mouthy bitch. Been dreaming about wrecking this cunt every time you opened it in meetings.”
Maya reached down and rubbed her clit in tight circles, chasing the edge. Her orgasm hit sudden and vicious, walls clamping around him, a raw moan tearing from her throat. Derek didn’t slow. He fucked her straight through it, then pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and shoved back in. Now she could see his face—flushed, furious, hungry.
He hooked her legs over his shoulders and drove deeper, angle hitting that spot inside her that made her see white. “Look at you,” he rasped. “So fucking wet for the guy you hate.”
“Shut up,” she gasped, but her hands were already pulling him down, nails raking his back under his shirt. She came again, tighter, messier, soaking his cock and the table beneath her. Derek followed with a guttural curse, burying himself to the hilt and pulsing hot inside her.
They stayed locked like that, breathing hard, sweat cooling. Slowly the anger in his eyes shifted into something else—surprise, maybe even want that wasn’t just rage. He didn’t pull out. Instead he leaned down and kissed her again, slower this time, tongue stroking instead of battling.
Maya’s fingers loosened on his shoulders. “This doesn’t mean I like you,” she whispered against his mouth, but her legs stayed wrapped around him.
Derek’s thumb brushed her cheek, surprisingly gentle. “Yeah it does,” he said, voice still rough but quieter. “And I like you back, you stubborn pain in the ass.”
He started moving again, slower, deeper, grinding against her clit with every roll of his hips.
Maya met him, hips lifting, the hate draining out and leaving raw need behind. They came together the second time, quieter, bodies pressed close, mouths open on each other’s necks.
Later, when they finally separated and fixed their clothes with shaky hands, Derek caught her wrist again, but gently. “My place. Now. We’re not done figuring this out.”
Maya looked at him, at the man she’d spent years resenting, and felt the shift settle deep in her chest. “Fine,” she said, the word almost a smile. “But if you steal another pitch, I’m still kicking your ass.”
He grinned, small and real. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
They left the office together, the fight over, something hotter and heavier already building again in the space between them.
