Our Secret - Episode 9

The elevator barely closed before his hand slipped beneath her dress. She gripped the rail, breathing through parted lips, as his fingers found bare skin and kept going. They stopped on the fifteenth floor. The doors opened. Neither moved. His thumb pressed harder, knuckles grazing wet heat. The doors shut again. She bit the inside of her cheek to stay quiet. Two more floors. The bell chimed. He pulled free, straightened her skirt, and stepped out first like nothing happened. She followed on shaky legs, pulse pounding between them. At the suite door he glanced over his shoulder. “You wet enough to take me yet?” She answered by sliding the keycard into the lock with trembling fingers. Inside, he bent her over the entry table before the latch clicked shut. Panties torn aside, cock shoved deep in one thrust. She clawed the wood, mouth open against the polished surface, every stroke driving her forward until her hips bumped the edge. The mirror above reflected the way her body took him—legs spread, dress rucked up, his hand locked around her throat to keep her steady. He watched her come in that reflection, face flushed, eyes glassy, cunt pulsing around him. Only then did he finish, pulling out to paint her lower back in thick stripes before dragging two fingers through the mess and pushing them between her lips. She sucked without being told. He smiled, small and satisfied. “Good girl.”