He groaned, hips thrusting shallowly, fucking my face while I hollowed my cheeks, sucking hungrily. Tears pricked my eyes from the depth, but I loved it—the raw dominance, the way he used me right here in his office. ‘Enough,’ he rasped after a few minutes, pulling me up by my hair. He spun me around, bending me over his desk, papers scattering everywhere. My skirt hiked up, panties shoved down to my thighs. I felt exposed, vulnerable, my ass in the air as he positioned himself behind me. ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me all day,’ he said, and then he slammed into me.
His cock stretched my pussy wide, burying deep in one thrust. I cried out, the desk edge digging into my hips, but the fullness was exquisite. He grabbed my wrists, pinning them behind my back, pounding into me relentlessly. Each slap of his body against mine echoed in the room, mixed with my loud moans. ‘Harder, please… own this pussy,’ I begged, my voice muffled against the wood. The mix of pain and pleasure built, my body trembling, emotions crashing—loyalty to my husband fracturing under this intense connection with Harlan. He released my wrists to slap my ass, the sting making me clench around him. ‘You love being my hotwife whore, don’t you? Taking my cock while he’s at home.’ His words hit home, twisting the knife of arousal deeper. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, my clit grinding against the desk.
Sweat slicked our skin, the office air thick with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and my desperate gasps. I was close, so close, but he slowed just enough to tease, drawing out the torment. ‘Not yet,’ he growled, leaning over me, his breath hot on my neck. ‘I want more of you…’