LUST & SIN (A Collection Of Steamy Desires)

FAWKING OVERTIME Chapter 4

—THREE NIGHTS LATER—

The clock on the wall already read 10:47 p.m. when Dylan locked the office door and dropped a thick stack of files onto his desk.

“Project deadline. You’re not leaving until every page is done.”

Camille stood in front of him in nothing but her open blouse and the wet stain already forming between her thighs. She didn’t even glance at the papers.

“Then stop talking and punish me for it.”

He shoved the entire stack onto the floor with one sweep of his arm. Files scattered. Not a single page got opened.

Dylan grabbed her by the waist, lifted her onto the desk, and pushed her onto her back. He yanked her legs wide, hooked them over his shoulders, and drove his c**k straight into her soaked p***y in one hard thrust.

“Fuck...” she gasped, the sound sharp and new.

He didn’t ease in. He started pounding her immediately, deep and relentless, the desk shaking under every slam. Her t**s bounced hard with each thrust.

“Tell me what you are while I wreck this hole.”

“Your late-night c*m dump… your dirty little overtime fucktoy… the slut who shows up already dripping for her boss…” Her voice cracked into short, broken “nnh… nnh… yes…” every time he bottomed out.

He kept the pace brutal for long minutes, hips snapping, balls slapping against her ass. When her thighs started to tremble, he pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach, and dragged her hips to the edge of the desk. He slammed back in from behind even harder, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades, the other spanking her ass raw.

“Louder.”

“Stretch me open… pound this greedy cunt until it can’t close… fill me so full it leaks down my legs all night…”

He reached under and rubbed her c**t in rough circles while he f****d her. She came hard, body jerking, a long shaky “ohhh...shit...” tearing out of her as her p***y clenched and flooded around his c**k. He didn’t stop. He f****d her straight through the orgasm until she was oversensitive and still pushing back for more.

Dylan pulled out, sat in his big leather chair, and hauled her into his lap facing him. She sank onto his c**k with a wet slide, taking every inch. He gripped her ass and started bouncing her hard, lifting her and dropping her onto his length over and over.

“Ride it like the filthy employee you are.”

Camille braced her hands on his shoulders and met every upward thrust, grinding down deep. “Use my holes… turn me into your personal c*m rag… keep me full until morning…” Her moans turned into low, continuous “mmh… mmh… f**k…”

He stood up, still buried inside her, carried her to the couch, and laid her on her back. He hooked both of her legs high against his chest and started railing her in long, punishing strokes that forced the air out of her lungs. The wet slap of skin filled the office. Her juices ran down onto the leather with every thrust.

“Who are you in this office?"

“I’m the boss’s late-night w***e… the one who begs to get her p***y destroyed instead of working… the slut who wants to be left leaking and used…”

He kept her right on the edge for what felt like forever, slowing just enough when she got close, then slamming hard again the second she calmed. Her body shook. Sweat slicked her skin. The clock crawled past midnight, then one, then two.

He moved her again, this time onto the floor on all fours. He knelt behind her, grabbed a fistful of hair, and drove back in deep. The new angle made her cry out high and raw. He pounded her without mercy, hips snapping fast, the sound filthy and wet.

“Keep talking while I ruin you.”

“Flood me… mark me… leave me so full I feel you dripping out when I walk tomorrow… treat me like the office fucktoy I am…”

He reached around and pinched her c**t hard. She came again, harder this time, a broken “fuck...yes...yes...” ripping from her throat as her arms gave out and her face pressed to the carpet. He f****d her through it, relentless, until her moans turned soft and wrecked.

Only then did he pull out, flip her onto her back, and shove back in missionary, one hand around her throat, the other pinning her wrists above her head. He pounded her deep and fast, chasing his own release.

“One more. Give it to me.”

Camille’s legs locked around his waist. “Pump me full… leave me dripping… make me your overnight c*m slut…”

He slammed into the hilt with a low groan and came hard, flooding her already messy cunt until it overflowed and ran down onto the floor in thick streams. He stayed buried, grinding deep, until the last pulse faded.

The clock on the wall read 3:06 a.m.

Camille lay under him, wrecked, legs still open, c*m leaking steadily from her used p***y. She looked up at him with glassy eyes and a tired, hungry smile.

“Still not done… give me more…”

Dylan pulled out slow, watching the mess, then hauled her back onto the desk.

“Overtime isn’t over until I say it is.”

Dylan hauled Camille back onto the desk and spread her legs wide. He shoved back into her in one hard thrust, still slick from the last round.

“Still begging at three in the morning…”

He started pounding her deep and fast, the desk rocking under them. One hand grabbed her left tit and squeezed hard, thumb dragging over the n****e before he slapped it. The sharp sting made her gasp.

“Ah...”

He slapped the other one just as hard, watching it bounce, then pinched both n*****s and tugged while his hips kept slamming into her.

“Harder…” she breathed, short and raw.

He pulled out, flipped her onto her side, and drove back in from behind. His hand cracked across her ass once, twice, three times, leaving red prints. Then he slapped the side of her thigh hard enough to make her jolt.

“Open wider.”

She did. He reached around, grabbed her tit again, and squeezed it roughly while he f****d her. Another slap landed on her ass, then higher on her thigh.

Camille’s voice broke into short, shaky sounds with every thrust. “Yes… more…”

He dragged her off the desk, pushed her to her knees on the floor, and stood over her. He slapped her face lightly with the flat of his hand, not hard enough to bruise, just enough to make her look up.

“Mouth open.”

She opened. He pushed his c**k between her lips and f****d her throat for a few strokes, then pulled out and slapped her cheek again with it.

He lifted her, laid her on her back on the desk, and shoved in deep again. This time he stayed close, one hand mauling her t**s, alternating between hard squeezes and sharp slaps that made them bounce. His other hand cracked across the inside of her thigh every few thrusts.

“Talk.”

“Use me… keep going…”

He f****d her harder, the wet sound of skin loud in the quiet office. He slapped her left tit, then her right, then her thigh again, never slowing the pace of his hips. When her legs started shaking, he leaned down and bit the side of her breast, then soothed it with his tongue before another slap landed.

Camille came with a sharp, broken cry, body locking up under him. He kept pounding her through it, hands never still, squeezing, slapping, gripping.

Only when she was trembling and gasping did he shove deep and empty inside her, flooding her until it ran out around his c**k and onto the desk.

He stayed buried a moment longer, still playing with her t**s, fingers rolling the n*****s roughly.

Then he pulled out slow and looked down at the mess.

“One more round before sunrise.”