Jasmine
I gasped, my fingers clenching against the desk as he began to move. Slow at first, then faster, deeper, each thrust hitting a spot inside me that made my vision blur.
The sound of skin against skin was too loud in the quiet office, but I couldn’t find it in me to care, not when it felt this good, not when he leaned over me, his chest against my back and his breath hot against my ear. “You feel so good,” he groaned. “So f*****g tight.”
I could only moan in response, pushing back against him, wanting more, needing more. The wood under my hands shifted with each thrust, its legs scraping against the floor, and somewhere in the back of my mind I registered the sound of a door closing down the hall.
It should have made me nervous. Instead, it made everything hotter. “Faster,” I beg
