After We Clock Out Workplace Erotica #2
Rhea’s office was a glass box that did not face the floor.
Cole shut the door two minutes later. Blinds already down. One desk lamp. A monitor asleep on a spreadsheet. She stood on the far side with her clipboard dropped like it had never mattered, polo straight, mouth still a little swollen.
“Lock it.”
He locked it.
“Say it again in this room,” she said. “Not the cage. Here. I am still your manager when that door opens. I am not making you.”
“I want this,” Cole said. “Yes. I can walk out.”
“Good.” Rhea popped her own button this time. “Pants down. Mine. Then you ask to put it in me. Condom in the top drawer if you want it. I don’t. I’m on birth control and I still want you to pull out when I say. That’s the rule tonight.”
“No condom,” he said. “I’ll pull out when you say.”
“Ask.”
“Can I take your pants off.”
“Yes.”
He crossed the office. She let him drag the work pants and underwear down together. The desk edge caught her when she hopped back onto it, ass on a stack of pick tickets, boots hanging. Twenty-three years old, pussy still wet from his mouth, looking at him like he had come in late.
Cole got his belt open. She watched him do it and did not help.
“Can I put my cock in you.”
“Yes. Slow first. I want to feel it. Then you do what I tell you.”
He stepped between her knees, dragged the head of his cock through her slick, and pushed in.
Rhea’s breath broke. Tight. Hot. The stretch pulled a sound out of her that no radio voice had ever used.
Cole went inch by inch because she had said slow, until his hips met the inside of her thighs and he was buried in his manager on her own desk.
He held. Shaking. The cage felt like a different shift.
“That’s all of it,” she said, almost angry at the way it came out soft. “Hold. Don’t you move.”
He held. Her pussy clenched around him in little pulls. He could smell paper and her and the leftover dust on both of them. The lamp put a hard line across her mouth. She grabbed the front of his hi-vis and pulled him in until her tits flattened to his chest.
“Now fuck me. Harder than careful. Not sloppy. If you last I might let you think you did something right.”
Cole pulled almost out and drove back in. Rhea’s boot heel hooked his ass. The desk inched. A cup of pens rattled. He found a rhythm that was deep and mean enough for her mouth and she met it, pulling him in with her calves.
“That’s—acceptable.” She swallowed a moan and turned it into talk. “You’ve been staring at my mouth on the floor for weeks. Now you can feel what it cost you. Harder.”
He gave her harder. The wet sound of his cock in her filled the little office. Cole watched it happen, the way she took him, shiny, stretching around him, her polo shoved up again because he needed his hand on her tit and she had not said no. He thumbed her nipple and she swore and clenched.
“Clit,” she ordered. “Your thumb. I want to cum on your cock in this chair-height disaster and I don’t want to work for it.”
He rubbed her clit in tight circles while he fucked her. Rhea’s head dropped back. The mean drained out of her face for three seconds and then she dragged it back on like a badge.
She came with her nails in his shoulders through the hi-vis, pussy locking down on him so hard he had to stop buried and breathe.
Twenty-three year old manager pulsing around a 23 year old picker’s cock on a pile of tickets.
Cole felt every pull and did not follow her over. His jaw hurt from holding it.
“Move,” she said, wrecked. “I didn’t tell you to stop existing.”
He moved. Slower while she twitched, then deeper when she nodded. The desk lamp shook. She laughed once, ugly and pleased, and bit his lower lip.
The radio on the blotter crackled.
A lead’s voice, tinny. “Rhea. You copy. Receiving’s jammed. You in the office?”
They froze with Cole still inside her.
Rhea’s eyes went sharp. She reached back without getting off him, thumb on the talk button, voice coming out almost normal.
“Copy. Give me five. I’m in a count.”
Static. “Five. I’ll hold ’em.”
The radio went dead.
Cole had not pulled out. She had not asked him to. Rhea sat on her own desk with his cock buried in her, boots dangling, chest going fast, and looked at him like the five minutes were a resource she intended to spend.
“Don’t you dare get soft,” she whispered. “And don’t you finish. He can wait. You hold still until I say you can move again.”
Cole held still, shaking, buried in her, the radio an inch from her elbow and the warehouse still running on the other side of the blinds.
Rhea clenched around him once, mean and deliberate, and kept him there.
Five minutes.
Rhea did not get off him.
Cole stayed buried, hands braced on the desk on either side of her hips, cock throbbing in the tight heat of her.
The radio sat on the blotter by her elbow like a third person.
Overhead in the hallway ticked. Twenty-three years old and shaking because his 23 year old manager had told him not to get soft and his body was trying to obey two orders at once.
“Quiet,” she whispered. “You can move. Short. If that radio pops again I want my voice, not yours.”
“Can I move.”
“Yes.”
He gave her short strokes. Almost nothing. The wet slide stayed small, filthy in the hush. Rhea’s mouth opened on his shoulder. Her nails found the muscle through the hi-vis. Cole counted in his head the way he counted cases and lost the number every time she clenched.
“That’s it. Don’t you chase it. This is not inbound. You don’t get to rush my clock.”
He did not rush. He fucked her in tight, shallow punches that kept him deep and kept the desk from walking. A pen rolled off and hit carpet. Both of them flinched. No voice on the radio. Rhea huffed a laugh into his shirt and bit him for the noise.
Cole could smell her on his own mouth still, paper dust, the heat coming off her throat. Her boots bumped the backs of his thighs and went still when he changed the angle a degree. She nodded against his shoulder. That was the yes for the new spot. He stayed on it.
“Thumb,” she mouthed.
He got his thumb on her clit again, gentler than the last time, because anything bigger felt like it would make her loud. Rhea’s breath broke into his collar. She was close already, swollen from the first orgasm, taking his cock in small greedy pulls.
The radio hissed static and went quiet.
Cole froze.
Rhea grabbed his ass and pulled him back into the short rhythm like the static could watch. “I didn’t say stop.”
He moved. Sweat ran down his spine under the vest. His jaw ached. She was so tight around him that every quiet stroke felt like it might end him, and she knew it. She kept him there on purpose.
“You’re close,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“Say it properly.”
“I’m close. I need—”
“You need what I tell you.” Her nails dug in. “Not yet. You hold it. You fuck me until I cum again and then you still hold it. That’s the job in this room.”
He nodded into her hair. She kissed the hinge of his jaw, almost kind, then ruined it.
“Don’t look at me like that on the floor next week. I’ll know what it means and I’ll still write you up if you’re short.”
Cole’s laugh came out silent and wrecked.
He rubbed her clit in the same small circle and kept the short strokes and Rhea came with her mouth open on his shoulder, a vibration more than a sound, pussy locking down so hard he had to stop and breathe through his teeth.
She shook on the desk, 23 years old, mean even in the way she muffled herself, pulsing around a picker who was not allowed to follow.
He held.
It cost him. His thighs shook. His cock kicked inside her and she felt it and squeezed the base of him with two fingers from behind, cruel and useful, until the white edge backed off.
“Good,” she whispered. “That’s the first useful thing you’ve done on time all month.”
The radio crackled.
“Rhea. Five’s up. You coming or am I kicking this to day shift?”
She thumbed the button with Cole still in her. Voice almost flat.
“On my way. Tell them to hold the dock door.”
“Copy.”
Dead air.
Rhea looked at Cole. Flushed. Eyes sharp again. She did not tell him to pull out yet.
“When you come out of me, you do it slow,” she said. “You belt up. You walk to the floor like you were counting. I handle receiving. You do not look at my mouth.”
He nodded.
She clenched once, filthy, and then tapped his hip. He pulled out slow. The empty made her hiss and made him want to put it back. He didn’t. Getting his cock into his pants was a problem with no professional solution. She watched him struggle and did not help.
Rhea hopped off the desk, dragged her underwear and pants up, and smoothed the polo like the pick tickets under her ass had not just been a bed. She picked up the radio.
“Break room,” she said, low. “Fridge wall. Five minutes after I leave this office. If you can still walk. If you can’t, you go back to inbound and you finish the night with that ache. I’m not your mother.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Ask anyway.”
“Can I meet you in the break room.”
Rhea’s mouth twitched.
“Yes. Clothes stay on as much as they can. Camera doesn’t see that corner. You still don’t cum. I do if I want. Then we clock out and you decide if my car is a problem.”
She unlocked the door, checked the hall, and left him in the lamp light with her smell on his cock and five minutes on a clock that suddenly mattered.
Cole counted again.
This time he did not lose the number.
The break room fluorescents made everyone look guilty.
Cole waited the five minutes and went in anyway.
Burnt coffee. A vending machine humming to itself.
The fridge in the back corner where the camera on the door pointed at the tables and not the wall.
Rhea was already there with a plastic water bottle she was not drinking, radio clipped, polo straight, 23 years old and looking like a manager who had only stepped off the floor for ice.
“Corner,” she said.
He went. She put her back to his chest, ass to his cock through the work pants, and reached for the fridge handle like that was the alibi.
“Ask.”
“Can I touch you.”
“Yes. Hands in the front of my pants. You keep your mouth shut if the door opens.”