LUST & SIN (A Collection Of Steamy Desires)

FAWKING OVERTIME Chapter 5

The first gray light of morning was already leaking through the office windows when Dylan finally pulled out of Camille for the last time that night. She lay sprawled across his desk, legs still open, body marked with red handprints and faint bruises, c*m slowly leaking from her used p***y onto the wood.

He stood over her, still half hard, breathing steady while she struggled to catch her breath.

“Get up.”

Camille pushed herself upright on shaky arms. Her blouse hung open, one sleeve half off her shoulder. She didn’t bother closing it.

Dylan walked to the small side cabinet, poured two glasses of water, and handed her one. She drank it in long swallows, throat working. He watched her the entire time.

When she finished, he took the glass back and set both down.

“Sit.”

She sat on the edge of the desk, thighs still wet and sticky. He stood between her knees, one hand resting on the outside of her thigh, thumb stroking absently over a fresh slap mark.

“You’ve been on overtime for a week. The project was finished three days ago. I never cared about the files.”

Camille looked up at him, quiet.

“Starting today, you get a private office on this floor. Flexible hours. No more open floor bullshit. Your only real job is simple… when I call, you come. Door locked. Clothes off. Ready.”

He stepped closer, the front of his pants brushing her inner thigh.

“You say yes, and this becomes permanent. You say no, and you go back to your desk downstairs as if none of this happened.”

Camille’s voice was hoarse from the long night. “Yes.”

Dylan’s mouth curved. He pushed her thighs wider and stepped fully between them. One hand slid up to cup her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, thumb dragging over the still sensitive n****e. He slapped it once, watching it jiggle, then the other.

“On your back.”

She lay back across the desk again. He freed his c**k, already hard again, and rubbed the head up and down her messy slit, collecting the mix of c*m and her own wetness. Then he pushed in slow this time, letting her feel every inch stretch her open after hours of use.

Camille’s breath left her in a long, shaky exhale. “Boss…”

He started moving, deep and steady at first, then harder, the desk creaking under the force. His hands never stayed still. He slapped the side of her breast, then the other, then gripped both and squeezed while he f****d her. One hand cracked across the outside of her thigh hard enough to leave another print. He reached up and lightly slapped her cheek, just enough to make her eyes focus on him.

“Keep those legs open.”

She hooked them higher around his waist. He leaned over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other still mauling her t**s, alternating between rough squeezes and sharp slaps that made her gasp. His hips kept a hard, relentless rhythm, the wet sound of their bodies loud in the quiet morning office.

“Talk.”

“Use me… keep me…” Her words came short, broken by each thrust.

He pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach, and dragged her hips to the edge of the desk. He slammed back in from behind, one hand in her hair, the other spanking her ass in time with his thrusts. Red bloomed across her skin. He reached under, grabbed one swinging breast, and squeezed it hard while he pounded her.

Camille’s moans turned into soft, continuous sounds, higher and more broken the longer he went. He slapped the back of her thigh, then the other, never slowing. When her legs started to shake, he pulled her upright so her back was flush against his chest. One arm locked around her waist, the other hand alternating between slapping her t**s and pinching the n*****s while he f****d up into her hard.

“Look at the door. In twenty minutes people start arriving.”

She stared at the closed door, body jolting with every deep thrust. He slapped the side of her face lightly again, then both breasts in quick succession, the stinging heat mixing with the relentless stretch of his c**k.

“Yes… don’t stop…”

He pushed her forward again, chest to the desk, and set a faster pace, hips snapping hard. One hand stayed in her hair, the other roaming… squeezing a breast, cracking across her ass, gripping the soft flesh of her thigh hard enough to bruise. The desk rocked. Papers from the night before fluttered to the floor.

Camille came with a sharp, muffled cry against the wood, body locking up, p***y clamping around him. He f****d her through it without mercy, hands still moving, still slapping and gripping, until she was trembling and oversensitive.

Only then did he shove deep and empty inside her one final time, flooding her until it spilled out around his c**k and ran down the side of the desk in thick streams.

He stayed buried for a long moment, breathing against the back of her neck, one hand still loosely cupping her breast.

Then he pulled out slow. c*m leaked steadily from her open p***y. He watched it for a second before stepping back.

“Your new office is the one next to mine. Door stays unlocked for me. Always.”

Camille pushed herself up on shaky arms, turned, and sat on the edge of the desk again. Her voice was quiet but steady.

“Yes, boss.”

Dylan reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her face, then lightly slapped her cheek one last time.

“Go clean up. First day of permanent overtime starts in fifteen minutes.”

She slid off the desk, legs unsteady, and walked toward the private bathroom still dripping. Behind her, Dylan picked up his phone and sent a short message to HR about the office reassignment.

That p***y is to be f****d overtime... wrecked overtime...ripped overtime and dripping overtime.

She loves to f**k, right?

He'd gladly turn her p***y into a permanent dripping hole.