The office feels… different now. Softer. Like everything’s finally let out the breath it’s been holding for weeks. Golden light coming through the blinds, striping the couch where I’m curled in his lap. My skirt’s smoothed down, mostly. Blouse buttoned wrong, one button skipped. But I can still feel it all. The stickiness between my thighs. Faint red lines on my wrists from his tie earlier. My p***y still fluttering, lazy little aftershocks every time I shift. His c*m drying on my skin under my clothes warm, secret, mine now. Ours.
He’s holding me tight. One arm around my waist. Other hand on my thigh, thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric. His heartbeat’s still fast against my ear. Thumping hard. Neither of us talking. Just the hum of the AC. Distant building noises. Late afternoon
