My office at Là Pharma hums with the usual drone. Printer chugs in the corner, spitting reports on Albert’s shady beauty shots. Open-space chatter filters through the glass walls. Colleagues glance my way—Jinay, the sharp chief medical officer, always in control. But today, adrenaline spikes. Aymard, my secret lover, my brother-in-law by marriage, storms in. We’ve just pulled off the heist. Odile bent over, poire hidden between her thighs. Me squeezing her ass, stealing Albert’s syringe sample while he panicked.
Door clicks locked. Sharp. Final. Coffee brews on the desk, rich aroma twisting with my floral perfume. Heavy. Intoxicating. He circles me. Eyes dark. ‘How’d you do it, Jinay? Taste that shit?’ I smirk. ‘Science demands it. Sweet water, honey. Harmless scam on desperate wives.’ Tension crackles. Files scatter as he grabs my waist. I turn away. Pout. Play mad. Like after our spat.
Tension Builds in the Open Space
His breath hot on my neck. ‘You women… unstoppable.’ Arms wrap tight. I melt back against him. Cock hard, pressing my ass through skirt. Mouse clicks echo from outside—someone working late. Heart pounds. Risk of footsteps. Printer whirs louder. Door rattles in my mind. But locked. Ours.
Lips crash. Long, devouring kiss. Tongues battle. Hands roam. Blouse rips open. Tits spill out. Nipples pinched. Hard. ‘Fuck, Jinay, you’re soaked.’ Skirt hikes. Panties yanked down. Desk edge bites my thighs. I bend. Ass up. Spread wide. His zipper rasps. Cock out. Thick. Veiny. Slaps my wet pussy.
Desk-Pounding Release and Cool Mask
‘Tease me, huh? After teasing Albert?’ Dirty laugh. Thrusts in. Raw. No rubber. Deep. Fills me. ‘Yes! Pound me, Aymard!’ Desk shakes. Papers fly. Coffee mug tips. Hot spill mixes with our sweat. Perfume clings. Slams harder. Grips hips. Balls slap ass. Grunts. My moans muffled on arm. ‘Your pussy’s gripping like a vice. Milk me.’ Printer jams? Beep-beep. Ignore. Faster. Tension explodes.
‘Cum inside. Fill me!’ He roars. Hot jets flood. Pussy pulses. Climax rips through. Legs quake. Pulls out. Cum drips down thighs. Quick wipe with tissue. Skirt smooths. Blouse buttons. Hair tucked. Mirror check—cool pro mask. Coffee mopped. Files straightened.
Door unlocks. Click. We step out. Open-space stares? Nah, heads down. Mouse clicks resume. ‘Meeting in five,’ I say crisp. Voice steady. He grins sly. Zips fly. Walk away. Heels click. Serious exec again. But pussy throbs. Cum leaks. Adrenaline high. Hierarchy hides the slut. Next dossier waits. Lust simmers. Until next lock.