Chapter 257: Inventory

The desk was done.

Liam pulled her upright. Sandra’s legs were unsteady; her blouse hung open; his cum slicked the insides of her thighs and glistened on the dark wood behind her.

She looked wrecked and still calculating, like a woman trying to find the policy page for what had just happened to her body hair coming loose from the tight pull, mouth swollen, eyes dark with the aftershock of being fucked through her own competence.

He did not give her the page.

He kissed her once deep, claiming then guided her off the desk and toward the low leather couch against the far wall, the one she used for vendor meetings and never for this.

Sandra went because her knees had not fully returned, and because when he pressed her down onto her back she opened her legs without being asked. .

The leather was cool against her skin. The office air was not."Still not gentle," she said, voice rough.

"Still not."

He stripped what was left of her clothes, then his own, and settled between her thighs.

The second round on the desk had left her swollen and shiny; his earlier release painted the soft skin of her inner thighs in messy streaks.

When he pushed into her the third time she took him in one long, wet slide and moaned like the sound had been punched out of her.

Hot. Slick. Still tight at the core where she clenched around the head of his cock before yielding the rest.

Liam braced over her and fucked her slow at first deep, grinding strokes that dragged against her clit on every pass until her hands stopped pushing at his chest and started pulling at his back. Her nails found muscle.

Her breath found his name and lost it again.

"Look at me."Sandra’s eyes opened, dark, unfocused. He held them while he drove into her harder.

Her breasts moved with each thrust, full and heavy, nipples tight from his mouth and the cool air.

He sucked one into his mouth, then the other, biting just enough to make her gasp and clench around him.

The couch complained. The office smelled of sex and sweat and the faint diesel that lived in everything near the bay."You’re going to ruin me for this room," she got out.

"Good."

He slipped a hand between them and rubbed her clit in tight, filthy circles. Sandra’s back arched.

Her mouth opened on a silent cry, then a real one, and she came hard fluttering, soaking, thighs shaking against his hips while he fucked her through it without mercy or pause.

Wetness slicked his cock and the leather under her ass. When the peak broke she tried to twist away from the sensitivity; he held her still and kept the rhythm until she was gasping his name like a curse and a plea in the same breath.

Only then did he pull out.

Sandra made a broken sound at the loss. Liam flipped her onto her hands and knees on the couch, dragged her ass back toward him, and took a second to look.

That heavy, perfect argument of an ass, lifted and open, his cum from the desk already smeared across her skin, her cunt flushed and dripping.

He buried himself in her again in one stroke. The view nearly finished him his cock disappearing into her, her back dipping, her hands fisting the leather.

He gripped her hips and fucked her properly: hard, deep, the wet slap of skin filling the office while Sandra dropped to her forearms and moaned into the cushion.

Every thrust bottomed out. Every withdrawal left her clenching as if to keep him.

"Play with yourself," he said.

She did. Her hand worked between her legs while he railed her, fingers slippery, breath punched out of her on every stroke.

When she came again it was messy shaking, clenching, a flood of wetness around his cock that ran down her thighs and the sound she made was raw enough that he had to grit his teeth not to follow her over.

He slowed, grinding deep, and felt every flutter of her orgasm milk him.

He pulled out, breathing hard.

Sandra looked back over her shoulder, eyes glassy, mouth open, a string of hair stuck to her cheek. "If you stop now I will resign out of spite."

"I’m not stopping."

He turned her onto her back again, hooked her knees over his arms, and folded her open until she was bent and exposed under him.

The angle let him sink impossibly deep. Sandra’s eyes went wide; her hands flew to his shoulders; a long, helpless sound tore out of her as he bottomed out and stayed there, grinding against the end of her.

"Too much"

"Take it."She took it. He fucked her like that until her voice broke into broken pleas and curses, until her cunt was spasming around him in another climax that left her trembling and wet down to the couch, toes curling in the air.

Only then did Liam let go a few brutal strokes, buried to the hilt, coming hard inside her with a groan against her throat while she held on and pulsed around every thick spurt.

He ground through it, emptying himself deep, until there was nothing left but the beat of his heart against her chest and the warm leak of his cum already spilling out around his cock.

They collapsed into the leather.

Sandra’s chest heaved. His release leaked out of her onto the couch she would have to explain to no one, because she controlled the cleaning schedule too.

For a long minute the only sound was breath and the distant hum of the yard’s cooling units. Outside, a dog barked once beyond the fence and went quiet.

"Rules," she said eventually, staring at the ceiling. Her voice was wrecked and steady at once. "If this happens again, it happens off site or after hours with the feeds dead. I don’t become gossip on my own floor."

"Agreed."

"And you don’t get to summon me like freight."

"I’ll put it in the calendar."Sandra turned her head and looked at him.

Her mouth was swollen. Her eyes were clearer, the calculation crawling back in under the flush. "You’re still not done. I can feel it."

"One more," Liam said. "Then I’ll drive you home."

She held his gaze, then opened her thighs again slow, deliberate, the last of the professional mask burned off for the night, his cum shiny on her skin, her body still twitching with aftershocks.

"Then stop talking," she said, "and finish what you started."He did.

Outside, the last truck was long gone. Inside, the office had become something else entirely desk and couch both claimed, the inventory of her resistance rewritten in sweat and sex and the night still had one more round left before either of them would walk back into a world of routes and signatures and clocks that were not this.