Printers hum relentlessly in the open-space. Clicks of mice echo like gunfire. Coffee stench mixes with my perfume, thick and heady. Europe’s markets teeter on collapse. Layoffs loom. Everyone knows it. Deadlines crush us. I stand by my desk, 5’5″ in heels, chestnut hair in a loose bun, strands framing my hazel eyes. Generous tits strain my blouse. Slim waist flares to wide hips. No corset needed. The canvas artist type—our graphic designer—chatters at me. He’s got eyes for my curves. I laugh politely. Tension coils in my gut.
Georges Tardel crosses the floor. My lieutenant from sales. Uniform-sharp suit hugs his frame. Thin mustache twitches. He dodged the boss’s meeting to come. Heart races. I spot him. Smile widens. Eyes lock. I ditch the designer cold. Weave through desks. Bodies bump. Laughter, phones ring. His arms pull me close. Lips crash. Tongues tangle deep. Bodies grind. His cock hardens against my thigh. Stupid jealousy fades. He’s mine. Almost.
The Building Tension
‘Why so late?’ I whisper, nibbling his ear. Hot breath on neck.
‘Captain held me up,’ he mutters, kissing my throat. Shivers hit.
‘Tell your captain I hate him. Dealt with that painter prick alone.’ Designer sulks with coffee. No guilt.
Hand slips to his bulge. Strokes firm. He groans. Eyes blaze fury, but palm keeps rubbing. ‘You’re mine,’ I purr. Kiss fierce. Door to conference room looms.
We slip in. Lock clicks. Sharp. Final. Moonlight? No—flicker of projector. Table gleams. I shove files aside. Skirt hikes. Panties drop. He kneels. Lips on tits. Sighs escape. Hand roams hips, thighs. Kisses trail down. Nips pubes. Tongue parts lips. Finds clit. Sucks hard. Like candy.
Breath quickens. Grip table edge. Legs spread wide. Hips buck. Two fingers plunge pussy. Wet cave grips. Moan rips out. Third joins. Pumps deep. Clit throbs under tongue. Jaw clenches. Body arches. Bridge of ecstasy. Scream peaks. Cum crashes. Collapse panting. Sheets? No—scattered papers.
‘Love your mustache scraping my clit,’ I gasp. Irritates perfect.
‘Glad it pleases,’ he grins.
Warm mouth on balls now. Tongue traces shaft to tip. Gland engulfed. Sucks slow. Cock swells. Heaven-hell torture. Head bobs. Tongue swirls. Drain him dry.
‘Stop! Gonna cum!’ he begs.
‘Why? Want it?’ Tease. Suck harder.
‘In you. Fuck me inside.’
Pout. Last lick. Crawl up. Kiss hungry. Guide cock. Impale deep. Still. Savor heat. Tight wet grip.
Hips roll. Faster. Match kiss rhythm. Sighs leak. Neck bites. Tits dangle. He latches. Teeth tug nipples. Hand on ass. Finger probes anus. Push in. Groan approves.
The Raw Explosion
Rear up. Ride frantic. Cries pierce. Grip table. He lifts thighs. Pounds hard. Balls slap. She cums again? I shatter. He growls. Fills me hot.
Collapse. ‘I love you.’ Whisper sweet.
Cuddle. Fingers trace chest. Bliss.
‘Must catch train to Deauville tomorrow.’ Soft.
He stiffens. World cracks.
‘Stop.’ Ice voice.
‘Why?’
‘Have to. Him. Like a father.’
‘No. Not with fathers.’ Sits up. Rage.
‘Owe him. Introduced us.’ Calm.
Hand rises. Slap hangs. Eyes challenge. ‘Hit me!’
Shame floods. Turns away.
I dress. Rustle sharp. ‘Lock door leaving. Back in four days. If you want.’ Door slams.
Blouse straightens. Skirt smooths. Perfume masks sex musk. Coffee lingers. Unlock. Step out. Clicks resume. Straight to next meeting. Mask on. Pro again. Heart pounds. Adrenaline buzz. Crave next risk.