You stumble to the end of another meeting that should have been an email, muttering a weary “Thanks, everyone” at your equally annoyed coworkers before leaving the meeting and heaving a sigh.
How does a week feel so long, right at the beginning? You’ve tabbed back to your email to see who needs what when you hear my steps behind you, feel my hands on your shoulders.
“Coffee break.” I murmur, my hands slipping down the front of your shirt to your chest and teeth clamping softly onto your earlobe. Your breath catches as I start to unbutton your shirt, brushing away your protests with a low chuckle.
“None of that is urgent, and you know it.” I swivel your chair around towards me with a flick of my wrist, taking your chin between my thumb and forefinger and aiming your face up at me. You open your mouth, the same obligatory, people-pleasing, “but they want a response right away” speech ready to burst from your lips, but I fill it with my thumb.
“No. They will be fine.” My other hand begins to massage your breasts, pulling your shirt aside to reveal you to me. I tug your face back towards me when you try to look at your email, mumbling around my finger about projects and deadlines.
“Enough.” I chide, leaning down to bite the soft flesh of one breast while my fingers quest lower, beneath the shorts that complete your work-from-home uniform and along the real prize. You moan as we finally come to something that prevents you from trying to work, the feeling of my finger lightly rubbing your clit while my tongue laps at your nipple.
You finally start to sink into your chair as two of my fingers slide inside you, hunting for your g-spot while I keep you still with a hand around your throat.
“That’s better.” I whisper, the words flying through your suddenly much emptier head as you tilt your head back and moan into the quiet of your home office. My fingers begin to pump, inside you, and you ignore my smirk as we find the comfortable rhythm that makes you start to buck and twist in your seat.
My fingers tighten around your throat as you start to get close, keeping you perfectly in place for my intensifying finger-fucking. Your eyes squeeze shut, body writhing as we both make a final mad dash to the finish. You go rigid, muscles tightening, and I continue to thrust into you until your thighs squeeze together enough to force me out.
I laugh fondly, licking my fingers off and swiveling your chair back around towards your computer. You heave a very different sort of sigh as your body finishes twitching.
“Better?” I ask, leaning your head back towards me. I know better than to expect you to admit it, but I rub your scalp a little and smile.
“I thought so.”