The moment I stepped into the break room, I pulled out my phone. My body was tense from the long morning, but my mind wasn’t on work—it was on her. I knew she’d be at home, working in that maddening way she does, too focused on her tasks but always leaving a door open for me to slip in and disrupt her. I shot her the first message.
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
“I’m working. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
I smirked at the screen, already imagining the faint blush on her cheeks, the way she’d bite her lip as she read my next words.
“You’re exactly what I need. Tell me—are you wearing anything under that shirt?”
A longer pause. She was hesitating, pretending to be busy. Then her reply came through.
“Maybe. What if I’m not?”
“Then you’re already halfway ready for me. Slide that chair back, baby. I want you to feel me even from here.”
Another pause. The tension crackled through the silence as I stared at the screen, imagining her shifting in her chair, her breath catching as she read my words. Finally:
“You’re trouble. I have meetings today.”
“Then be quick. You’ve got five minutes to make yourself come before your next call.”
“You’re already doing it, aren’t you? Sitting there, pretending to work, but all you can think about is my hands, my mouth, the way I make you beg.”
The pause was longer this time, and I felt my pulse quicken as I waited for her reply. When it came, it was exactly what I was hoping for.
“Good. Now spread your legs. Slide your hand down, and imagine it’s me.”
I leaned back against the wall, the hum of the break room fading into the background as I imagined her doing exactly as I said. Her shirt riding up, her breath hitching, her thighs parting as she obeyed my commands.
“Are you wet for me already? I know you are. Tell me how it feels.”
The reply came quickly this time, her resolve clearly crumbling.
“You’re insane. Someone could call me.”
“Then you’ll have to stay quiet, won’t you? Don’t stop. Keep going until you can’t take it anymore.”
Her next response was delayed, and I could practically hear her soft gasps in my mind, the way her breath would quicken as she followed my instructions. Finally, her message popped up:
“No, you don’t. You’re close, aren’t you? So desperate you can barely type.”
The bubble appeared again, stopped, then reappeared. My smirk deepened as I imagined her, flushed and trembling, her body betraying her completely.
“Good girl. Now, come for me. Right there, in that chair, while you think of my hands on your body and my voice in your ear.”
I waited, my heart pounding, knowing she was on the edge. Minutes passed before her reply came through, short and trembling.
“And yet, you’re mine. Don’t forget it. Now clean yourself up and go to your meeting. But don’t think for a second we’re done.”
“Who says I’m not ready for round two already?”
I chuckled softly, locking my phone as the break ended. The thought of her flustered, spent, and still craving me carried me through the rest of the day—and I knew neither of us would stop thinking about it until the night.
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