Clara – After hours

The office was silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of papers settling into their final resting places for the night. The woman in red, Clara, sat at her glass desk, her crimson dress clinging to her curves like a second skin. The deep neckline and thigh-high slit had been a bold choice for the workday, but she’d worn it with confidence, knowing it made her feel powerful. Now, with the rest of the staff gone, only she and Richard remained, the last two souls in the sprawling office.

Richard had volunteered to grab them some coffee from the break room, a small gesture to cap off a long day. “Back in a sec,” he’d said, his voice casual but his eyes lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. Clara watched him go, her lips curling into a private smile as the door clicked shut behind him. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken possibilities.

She shifted in her chair, the cool glass of her desk pressing against her thighs through the fabric of her dress. A reckless impulse surged through her. Glancing around to confirm she was truly alone, she reached beneath the hem of her dress, hooked her fingers into the waistband of her black lace knickers, and slid them down her legs. The delicate fabric pooled at her ankles before she kicked them off entirely, leaving them draped across the edge of her desk like a silent invitation. The thrill of it, the audacity, sent a shiver up her spine.

The door creaked open moments later, and Richard returned, two steaming mugs in hand. He paused mid-step, his gaze locking onto the knickers splayed across the glass. The coffees hit the desk with a soft clink as he set them aside, his movements deliberate. He reached for the lace, lifting it to his nose without hesitation. Clara watched, her breath catching as he inhaled deeply, his eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored her own. The scent of her, musky, sweet, and unmistakably aroused, filled his senses, and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

“Get up,” he commanded, his voice rough and unyielding. Clara obeyed instantly, her heart pounding as she rose from her chair. He stepped closer, his presence towering, and with a firm hand on her shoulder, he spun her around and bent her over the desk. The cool glass pressed against her cheek and palms, a stark contrast to the heat building inside her. Richard’s hands were swift, yanking the red dress up over her hips to expose her bare skin. She heard the metallic rasp of his zipper, the rustle of fabric as he freed himself, and then, without preamble, he was there, his cock pressing against her slick entrance.

He entered her in one hard thrust, filling her completely. Clara gasped, her fingers splaying against the glass as he began to move, his pace relentless. The desk rocked beneath them, the surface smudging with her breath and the press of her body. She was wet, dripping, even, and the friction of him inside her sent sparks racing through her nerves. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back to meet each thrust, and the sound of their bodies colliding filled the empty office.

Her first orgasm hit fast, a sudden, sharp wave that crashed over her like a storm. Her legs trembled, her inner walls clenching around him as pleasure radiated from her core, pulsing outward in electric bursts. She moaned, low and guttural, her voice echoing off the glass. Richard didn’t slow, driving her through it, and the intensity only built as he kept going.

The second came slower, deeper, a rolling tide that started in her belly and spread like wildfire. Her toes curled in her heels, her breath hitching as the sensation coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped, flooding her with a warm, liquid ecstasy. She cried out, her hands slipping on the desk, leaving streaks as her body shook. The cool glass against her overheated skin grounded her, tethering her to the moment as she rode the high.

The third orgasm blindsided her, triggered by a subtle shift in his angle that hit just the right spot. It was explosive, a white-hot burst that made her vision blur and her knees buckle. She screamed his name, the sound raw and unrestrained, her entire body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure tore through her. Her pussy gripped him like a vise, pulsing wildly, and she felt herself gush slightly, the evidence of her release slicking her thighs.

Richard’s breathing grew ragged, his thrusts more erratic as he chased his own edge. Just as Clara thought she might collapse from the intensity, he pulled out abruptly, spinning her around with a firm grip on her arm. She dropped to her knees instinctively, her lips parting as he fisted his cock. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and commanding, and with a groan, he came, hot, thick jets of spunk hitting her tongue and the back of her throat. She swallowed eagerly, the salty taste of him mingling with the lingering haze of her own pleasure.

He shuddered, his hand loosening in her hair as the last of his release spilled from him. Clara licked her lips, catching a stray drop, and looked up at him with a sated, mischievous grin. Richard exhaled heavily, steadying himself against the desk as he tucked himself back into his trousers. The coffees sat forgotten, cooling in their mugs, as the office settled back into its quiet hum.

“Guess we’re done for the night,” he said, his voice still rough but tinged with amusement.

Clara stood, smoothing her dress down over her hips, the absence of her knickers a secret thrill she’d carry home. “Not a bad way to end the day,” she replied, her tone light but her eyes still smoldering. She grabbed her bag, leaving the lace behind on the desk, a memento of their reckless, electric moment, and sauntered toward the door, knowing he’d follow.