Mysterious Ways

She kept coming back. October 18th, 2013. Same filthy little secret. Same locked door and low hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. She was always careful until the second the bolt clicked shut behind them. Then she tore at his belt like it was the only thing keeping her from drowning. He shoved her against the cold metal filing cabinet, her palms flat, breathing hard through parted lips. His hand slid between her legs, rough fingers finding heat and wet without hesitation. She spread wider, grinding back against him as he yanked her skirt up to her waist. Panties shoved aside. He sank two fingers inside her, knuckle deep, curling hard while she bit her lip to keep quiet. The camera caught every angle—her thighs trembling, the slick sound of him finger-fucking her, the way her cunt clenched around him like it couldn't get enough. Later she'd blame the scotch, the stress, the something in the air. But they both knew she came back every time for this exact thing. Him ruining her against the cabinet, his cock buried to the hilt, her moans smothered in the crook of her arm while he took what he wanted. Fast. Messy. Unforgiving. And she never asked him to stop.