After
Hours

A hot, secret night at the office. I waited until the hallway went quiet, and then I let him take me the way we both needed—bent over the conference table in the dark, the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows the only witness. He pushed my skirt up his hips, entered me slow and deep, and every inch of it was deliberate: the hand on my back, the filthy things he breathed into my ear about how long he'd been waiting to do this, the way his fingers found me exactly where I needed them. I came with my forehead pressed to the cool wood, trying not to make a sound. He didn't stop. He kept moving through it, steady and deep, until he finished inside me with a shudder and a quiet, rough groan against my neck. We stayed like that for a long moment, still connected, before he helped me straighten my clothes. The hallway was silent when we finally left. But the heat of it stayed with me all the way home.