The conference room door clicks shut. Yoann twists the lock. Snick. Printer buzzes low, churning reports. Coffee aroma hits me, sharp, mixed with his cologne – woody, intoxicating. My pulse hammers. Factory hum vibrates through the walls. Sewing machines drone outside.
We’ve toured the lines all morning. His eyes devoured me in my ivory satin set – garters hugging thighs, bra cupping tits just right. My own design. He brushed my hip by the lace cutters. Now, alone. Folders splayed on the oak desk. Mouse clicks echo as he scrolls emails. Pretend work. I lean in. Skirt hikes. His gaze drops to my ass.
Tension in the Conference Room
“This deal’s hot, Stephanie.” Voice gravel. Fingers graze my wrist. Heat builds. Open-space chatter fades beyond the glass. Colleagues mill. Risk spikes my clit. I shift. Nipples harden against lace. Coffee steam curls from mugs. His cologne thickens the air.
He stands. Circles the desk. Chair scrapes. Hand on my waist. Pulls me back. Breath hot on neck. “Can’t stop thinking about last night.” Lips brush ear. My pussy clenches. Printer spits another sheet. Door locked tight. No key rattles.
His fingers dive under skirt. Yank garter. Snap. I gasp. Desk edge bites my hips as he bends me forward. Papers scatter. Mouse clatters. “Wet already? Slutty designer.” Dirty growl. I nod. Grind back. His cock presses through slacks – hard, thick.
Zipper rasps. No time for games. Panties shoved aside. Satin rips slight. Head of his dick nudges my slick folds. One thrust. Fills me raw. “Fuck!” I hiss. Desk shakes. Pens roll. He pounds. Short, brutal strokes. Balls slap my clit. Grunts mix with printer whine.
Desk Explosion and Quick Cover
“Take it, boss bitch. This pussy’s mine now.” Hand fists my hair. Pulls. I arch. Tits bounce free from bra. Nipples scrape wood. Coffee mug tips. Spill hisses. His free hand mauls ass. Fingers dig. Sweat beads. Factory bell rings distant – shift change?
Pace ramps. Desk creaks. My cries muffled on arm. “Harder, Yoann! Fuck the deal into me.” He slams. Grips hips. Bruises form. Pussy grips him. Waves build. Printer jams? Buzz spikes. He roars low. Cums hot, flooding deep. I shatter. Walls pulse. Juices drip thighs.
Pulls out. Slap of skin. Cum leaks. Quick wipe with tissue. Crumple. Toss in bin. I straighten. Fix bra. Tuck tits. Smooth skirt. Garters snap back. Hair fluff. Lipstick check in phone reflection. Mouse clicks resume. He zips. Unlocks door. Click.
Door swings. We sit. Folders straight. “Great tour, right?” Casual smile. Colleagues enter. Chairs scrape. Coffee poured fresh. His cologne lingers on me. Pussy throbs. Cum soaks panties. I cross legs. Meeting starts. Notes taken. Like nothing happened. Heart still races. Next deal? Riskier.