Monday morning open-space hums. Printer whirs endlessly, spitting reports. Mouse clicks punctuate the air. Coffee aroma clashes with my vanilla perfume, thick and teasing. I sift through dossiers, ambitious fire burning. Francis Pichon enters. Shaved head gleams under fluorescents. Lanky like Pierre Richard, but eyes sharp now. Hypnosis fixed him. No more doubt. He owns that face.
Our gazes clash over file stacks. Heat rises. He nods at my screen. Legs cross under desk. Thighs clench. Hierarchy screams no. But thrill whispers yes. Stress of deadlines morphs to pussy ache.
Tension in the Open-Space
‘Francis, these numbers off. Conference room. Five minutes.’ Voice steady. Pro mask on.
Colleagues drone on calls. We rise. Folders in hand. Walk past cubicles. His cologne hits. Musky. My heels click. Heart races. Door swings shut behind us. Hand finds lock. Click. Sealed.
Dim light filters through blinds. Long oak table waits. He drops files. Steps close. Breath hot on neck. ‘Clara, been staring at your ass all morning.’ Fingers graze skirt hem.
I spin. Push him back. Lips crash. Tongue dives deep. Coffee bitterness mixes. Hands roam. His under blouse, pinch nipple hard. I groan. ‘Shut up. Someone hears.’
Skirt up. Panties yanked aside. His fingers plunge. Wet squelch. ‘Fuck, soaked for me.’ Thumb circles clit. Knees buckle. Printer buzz outside. Door rattle risk spikes adrenaline.
Bend me over table. Cold wood bites skin. Zipper rasps. Cock springs free. Thick, veined. Head nudges slit. ‘Beg.’ ‘Fuck me, Francis. Hard. Now.’
Explosive Desk Pound
Thrusts slam. Desk creaks. Papers scatter. Skin slaps loud. ‘Your tight cunt grips like vice.’ Grunts echo. I bite lip. Moans escape. ‘Deeper. Ruin me.’
Pace brutal. Balls smack ass. Sweat beads. Perfume turns heady with sex musk. Coffee lingers faint. Clicks outside. Footsteps? Panic fuels fire. Pussy clenches.
‘Cum for me, ambitious slut.’ Fingers dig hips. Stars burst. Orgasm rips. Walls pulse. He growls. Pulls out. Hot ropes splatter ass, back. Dripping.
Panting heavy. Quick wipe with tissues. Skirt smooths down. Cum trickles thigh. His cock tucked. Shirt straightened. Bald head wiped sweat.
Mirror check. Lipstick fixed. Hair tucked. Unlock. Click soft.
Door opens. Casual stroll out. ‘Solid review.’ Smile pro. Into meeting room next door. Sit prim. Legs quiver. Secret wetness soaks chair. Eyes meet his. Spark lingers. Mask perfect. Lust hidden. Next time? Door waits.