She wasn’t supposed to be here after hours. Neither was he. But when she locks the door behind them, it’s not for paperwork—it’s so she can palm his dick through his slacks before he even knows what hit him. One second he’s adjusting his tie, the next she’s got him bent over a stack of boxes in some forgotten storage room, fingers flying as she jerks him off like this has been planned for months. No words. Just grunts and desperate breaths as those same lips seal around him—no warning, no teasing build-up. Deepthroat on command while one hand grips his ass like she owns it (because in this moment? She does).
