Printer hums in the corner. Coffee scent mixes with my perfume. Jean and I hunch over reports in the conference room. His eyes dart to my blouse, unbuttoned just enough. I feel his gaze on my cleavage. Heart races. Open space buzzes outside—phones ring, keyboards clack. Jacques, the boss, struts by. Smiles at me. ‘Need anything, Annie?’ His voice low, teasing.
We revise hard. Jean’s hand brushes my thigh under the table. I smile, but push it away. Not yet. Door clicks shut earlier when we entered. Locked? No one checks after hours. Jacques knocks. ‘Water run for Antoine?’ Jean sighs. Printer spits pages. ‘Go, I’ll finish here.’ Jean nods, grabs keys. Leaves me alone. Smell of fresh ink lingers.
Tension in the Open Space
Jacques enters. Door locks with a snick. ‘Your handkerchief, Annie.’ He dangles my lace panties from the wedding. I blush. He steps close. Breath hot on my neck. ‘Jean won’t mind.’ Hands on my waist. I gasp. Skirt hikes up. His fingers trace my thong. Coffee mug rattles on desk. I moan softly. Ambition surges—boss’s favor could skyrocket my career.
He spins me. Desk edge bites my ass. Blouse rips open. Buttons ping. His mouth on my tits. Sucking hard. I arch. ‘Fuck, Jacques.’ Zipper rasps. Cock springs out, thick. Printer whirs again. He bends me over. Thong yanked aside. Slams in. Wet slap echoes. Desk shakes. Papers fly. ‘Tight little slut.’ I grip edges. Pounding fast. Adrenaline spikes—anyone could knock.
Door flies open. Jean freezes. Eyes wide. Lucie behind him, smirking. ‘She’s ready, boy.’ Jacques grunts, pulls out. Cum drips down my thigh. ‘Your turn, puceau.’ Jean’s pants tent. Lucie strips him. His cock throbs. I stay bent, ass up. Inviting. He stumbles forward. Slides in easy. Softer than boss. ‘Oh fuck, Annie.’ I push back. Moan loud. His hands clumsy on hips.
Explosion on the Desk
Jacques watches. Strokes himself. Lucie jerks Jean’s balls. Clicks of mouse forgotten. Coffee cold. Jean thrusts wild now. ‘You’re mine.’ But I clench. Milk him. He groans. Fills me. Hot spurts. I cum hard. Shuddering. Waves crash. He pulls out. Slumps.
Rancor flashes in his eyes. ‘Slut.’ I straighten. Cum leaks. Wipe with tissue. Printer hums on. ‘Get out if you want.’ But I smile inside. Power rush. Jacques zips up. ‘Good girl.’ I button blouse. Smooth skirt. Perfume masks sex stink. Hair fixed. Glance in window reflection.
Door unlocks. Back to open space. Meeting resumes. ‘Missed anything?’ Colleagues nod. No clue. Heart still pounds. Coffee sip. Bitter sweet. Jean glares. I wink. Tomorrow? More revisions. With both. Career climbs on cum-soaked heels. Adrenaline—my drug.