Chapter Text
The microwave beeped three times with that aggressive, try-hard cheerfulness unique to office appliances. Like it wanted a medal for just doing its job. Lal stared at it, willing her cup noodles to somehow become more interesting than the scene unfolding in her peripheral vision.
They were at the corner table. The one near the window that got the good afternoon light. The one Lal had started thinking of as table until three weeks ago when Proud transferred from the Bang Na branch and suddenly started eating lunch there too.
Wine hadn't even looked up from her laptop when Proud sat down. That was the thing about Wine — she made you feel like you were interrupting something important just by existing in her vicinity. But Proud didn't seem to mind. Proud never minded. She just smiled her soft, patient smile and unfolded her little bento box with the neat compartments and the rice shaped into flowers, and she leaned in.
Lal's chopsticks scraped against the bottom of her cup. She'd stopped eating ten minutes ago.
"—so I think if we restructure the column references before the VLOOKUP," Wine was saying, her voice that particular low register she used when she was actually interested in something, "the whole sheet won't crash when Marketing changes their inputs again."
Proud laughed. It was a small laugh, breathy, the kind that said I don't fully understand what you said but I love that you're saying it. "You're so smart," she said, and her hand — her hand — brushed Wine's wrist as she reached for a pen. "Could you show me? Like, slowly?"
Wine's fingers paused on the keyboard.
Lal's cup noodles were definitely cold now.
She should leave. She would leave. Any second now. She was the Head of Sales, for god's sake. She had a presentation at two. She had over seventy unread emails and a client who kept sending her eggplant emojis for no discernible business reason. She had better things to do than watch Wine Vetaka explain Excel formulas to a girl who probably still used her index fingers to type.
But then Proud leaned closer. Close enough that her shoulder pressed against Wine's shoulder. Close enough that Wine's perfume — that stupid, expensive, cedar-and-something scent that Lal only knew because she'd buried her face in Wine's neck at 2 AM last Thursday — would be all Proud could smell.
Lal stood up.
She didn't plan to stand up. Her body just... rebelled. Her knees locked, her spine straightened, and suddenly she was walking toward them with a bowl of cold noodles in one hand and what she hoped looked like a casual smile plastered across her face.
"Well, well, well," she said, and her voice came out too loud, too bright, the sales-voice she used on difficult clients. "If it isn't Accounting's favorite power couple. Working hard or hardly working?"
Wine looked up. Her expression didn't change — that same flat, professional mask she wore in meetings, the one that made the interns cry. "Khun Lal."
Just Khun Lal, like Khun Lal was a mild inconvenience. Like Khun Lal hadn't had her fingers inside this woman seventy-two hours ago.
"Don't stop on my account!" Lal pulled out the chair opposite them — too hard, it screeched against the tile — and sat, draping her arm over the back like she owned the place. Which, sales-wise, she kind of did. "I love watching numbers people do their thing. Very... precise. Very tight.”
She winked. She actually winked. She was thirty-two years old and she was winking like a door-to-door vacuum salesman.
Proud blinked, her smile faltering into confusion. "Oh, hi Khun Lal. Were you... waiting to use this table?"
"This table? No, no. I just thought —" Lal gestured vaguely with her chopsticks, nearly flicking broth onto Wine's keyboard. Wine snatched the laptop back with a sharp inhale. "—you know, since we're all department heads here, we should do more cross-functional bonding. Team building! I was thinking we could do a trust fall. Or!" She pointed at Proud's bento. "A potluck. Wine loves potlucks, don't you, Wine?"
Wine's eyes narrowed. Not the good kind of narrow. The ‘what are you doing’ kind of narrow. "I don't like potlucks."
"You love potlucks. Remember the year-end party? You had three servings of—" Lal stopped. She didn't actually know what Wine had eaten at the year-end party. She'd spent the whole night watching Wine from across the room, memorizing the way she held her wine glass by the stem, the way she laughed once — once — at something Tangkwa said.
"I don't recall you paying enough attention to my eating habits to have an opinion," Wine said, and her voice was ice. Perfect, controlled, devastating ice. "Perhaps you should focus on your own department. I heard your Q2 projections were... optimistic."
The word ‘optimistic’ landed like a slap. In Wine's mouth, it meant ‘delusional’.
Lal's smile didn't falter. It couldn't. If she stopped smiling, she might do something humiliating, like cry, or confess, or grab Wine's collar and scream I know what you sound like when you come, and I know you bite my shoulder to muffle it, and I know you're not as cold as you pretend, so why are you pretending with HER?
"Optimistic is my brand," she said instead, standing up so fast her chair rocked. "Anyway, enjoy your... spreadsheet tutorial. Very thrilling stuff. I'll just —" She made a vague gesture toward the door, her noodles still clutched in her other hand, broth sloshing dangerously. "—go save the company some money. You two keep doing whatever this is."
She walked away. She didn't look back. She couldn't look back because if she saw Proud leaning in again, she might actually set something on fire.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she hit the hallway. She ignored it. Her face hurt from smiling. Her chest hurt from breathing. She ducked into the stairwell — the one by the fire exit that smelled like old cigarettes and industrial cleaner — and pressed her forehead against the cool concrete wall.
“Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
They weren't dating. They'd never dated. They'd made an arrangement, two professionals satisfying biological needs without complicating each other's lives. Wine had been very clear about that in the beginning, her voice clipped and rational as she listed the terms: No feelings. No expectations. No workplace acknowledgment. This ends when either of us wants it to.
Lal had agreed because she'd been drunk on Wine's perfume and the way her blouse unbuttoned left-to-right instead of right-to-left, like a small rebellion against conformity. She'd agreed because she was stupid, and she was still stupid, and now she was stupid and jealous in a stairwell with cold noodles.
She stayed there until her phone buzzed again. Then she straightened, fixed her smile back on her face, and walked back toward the sales floor like nothing had happened.
***
Medsai was leaning against the counter by the espresso machine when Lal emerged from the hallway. She looked like she'd been waiting, though that was probably just her natural posture — Medsai always looked like she was exactly where she intended to be, doing exactly what she intended to do. It was one of the things Lal liked about her. One of the many things.
"Well," Medsai said, pushing off the counter with her hip. "You look like someone killed your dog and made you file the incident report."
Lal laughed. It came out easier than she expected, looser than it should have been. "Just sales things. You know how it is."
"I don't, actually." Medsai stepped closer, close enough that Lal could smell her shampoo — something herbal, clean, uncomplicated. "I just push paper around and pretend I understand compliance law. Very glamorous."
"Extremely." Lal finally set her cup noodles down on the counter. She'd forgotten she was holding them. "I should throw these out. They've been dead for a while."
"Let me." Medsai took the cup before Lal could protest, her fingers brushing Lal's in a way that was probably accidental but lingered half a second too long. She dropped it in the trash with a neat flick of her wrist and turned back, smiling. "Better?"
"Much."
"Good." Medsai leaned against the counter again, but this time she was facing Lal fully, her body open in that way people were when they wanted to be read as available. "So. The thing I actually came over here for. I heard your pitch to the Singapore client last week."
Lal blinked. "You did?"
"I have spies everywhere." Medsai's smile widened, showing the small gap between her front teeth that somehow made her look both younger and more dangerous. "It was impressive. You made supply chain logistics sound like poetry. I didn't know 'cost-benefit analysis' could be a love language."
Lal felt something unknot in her chest. Just a little. Just enough to let her breathe properly for the first time since the break room. "You should see me do tax returns. Very erotic."
"I'd like to." Medsai's voice dropped, not dramatically, just enough to turn the words from joke to invitation. "See you work, I mean. Or — whatever. I'm flexible."
She reached out and adjusted Lal's collar. It didn't need adjusting. Lal's shirt was fine. But Medsai's thumb brushed the hollow of Lal's throat, and her eyes stayed on Lal's face like she was looking for something, and Lal —
Lal laughed.
It was a real laugh, surprised and pleased, the kind that crinkled her eyes. "Khun Medsai, are you flirting with me? In the office? During business hours?"
"I might be." Medsai didn't pull her hand back. Her thumb traced a lazy line along Lal's collarbone, barely there, barely touching. "Is it working?"
Lal opened her mouth to answer. She didn't know what the answer was. Medsai was warm and present and looking at her in a way that felt like sunlight after weeks of gray. There was no performance here, no secret rules, no pretending to hate each other in hallways. Just a pretty woman being pretty and interested and easy.
"It might be," she said, and her voice came out softer than she intended.
Medsai's smile turned pleased, catlike. "Then I'll keep trying. Dinner? Somewhere that doesn't have a microwave?"
"I—" Lal started.
"Khun Lal."
The voice came from behind her, from the doorway that led to the accounting wing. It was one word. Her name. But it landed like a stone in still water, and Lal felt the ripples all the way down her spine.
She turned.
Wine was standing in the doorway. She looked exactly as she always looked — charcoal blazer, white blouse, hair pulled back so tight it must hurt. Her arms were at her sides. Her expression was blank in that way that meant she was controlling it very carefully.
“K-Khun Wine?”
"My office," Wine said. "Now."
It wasn't a request. It wasn't even really a command. It was a statement of fact, delivered with the absolute certainty that Lal would obey.
Lal's mouth went dry. "I'm on my lunch break."
"Now."
Wine didn't wait for an answer. She turned and walked away, her heels clicking a sharp, measured rhythm on the tile. She didn't look back. She didn't need to.
Lal stood frozen for a long moment. Medsai's hand had fallen away from her collar. When she turned back, Medsai was watching her with a curious, knowing expression.
"Well," Medsai said. "That was... intense."
"Khun Wine's always intense." Lal's voice sounded distant to her own ears. "It's her whole thing. Ice queen, you know? Very... frosty."
"Frosty," Medsai repeated. She looked toward the empty doorway, then back at Lal. Her expression was thoughtful, but she didn't push. "Dinner. Think about it. I'll be around."
She squeezed Lal's shoulder — a friendly gesture, almost sisterly — and walked away, leaving Lal alone with the espresso machine's quiet gurgle and the sudden, suffocating certainty that she was in a terrible situation
***
The accounting wing was on the east side of the building, which meant Lal had to cross the entire office floor to reach Wine's office. She'd made this walk a hundred times. A thousand. For meetings, for arguments, for the occasional budget negotiation that ended with them screaming at each other in conference room B while the interns pretended not to listen.
She'd never made it feeling like this.
Her palms were sweating. She wiped them on her pants, then immediately felt ridiculous. She was thirty-two. She was a department head. She had negotiated contracts worth millions of baht while clients shouted at her in three languages. She was not going to be intimidated by a woman in a charcoal blazer who happened to know exactly where to touch her to make her beg.
My office. Now.
The words shouldn't have affected her like this. They were the same words Wine used when the sales team submitted expense reports with missing receipts. The same tone she used when she found errors in Lal's quarterly projections. Professional. Annoyed. Nothing more.
But Lal had heard something else underneath. A tightness. A control that was working too hard.
She stopped outside Wine's door. It was closed, which was unusual — Wine usually kept it open, some kind of symbolic transparency that made people think she had nothing to hide. Lal stared at the frosted glass, at the black letters that spelled VETAKA in neat, unforgiving font.
She knocked.
"Enter."
Wine's voice was muffled through the door, but it still sent a shiver down Lal's spine. She turned the handle and stepped inside.
***
Wine's office was exactly as it always was: immaculate, minimal, aggressively organized. The desk was clear except for a single stack of papers aligned at perfect right angles. The blinds were drawn to precisely the same height they always were, letting in a thin stripe of afternoon light that fell across the carpet like a rule.
Wine was standing by the window, her back to the door. She didn't turn when Lal entered.
"Close it," she said.
Lal closed the door. The click of the latch seemed very loud.
"Sit."
"I'd rather stand."
Wine turned. Her face was composed, but her eyes — Lal knew her eyes. She knew the way they darkened when Wine was aroused, the way the left one twitched almost imperceptibly when she was lying. Right now they were flat and cold and furious, and Lal didn't know what to do with that.
"Suit yourself." Wine moved to her desk, but she didn't sit either. She leaned against it, arms crossed, and looked at Lal with an expression that might have been contempt. "Khun Medsai."
It wasn't a question. It was an accusation dressed as a name.
Lal felt her spine straighten, her chin lift. The defensive posture she'd learned in a thousand sales negotiations. "What about her?"
"You seemed friendly."
"We are friendly. She's nice. She laughs at my jokes." Lal heard the petulance in her own voice and hated it. "Unlike some people."
Wine's jaw tightened. Just for a second. Then the mask was back. "I wasn't aware your lunch breaks were for socializing."
"I wasn't aware you were monitoring my lunch breaks."
"I'm not." Wine pushed off the desk and took a step forward. Just one. But the office was small, and it brought her close enough that Lal could see the pulse jumping in her throat. "I happened to walk past. I happened to see you making a fool of yourself."
"Making a—" Lal's voice rose, indignant. "I was having a conversation! A normal, human conversation! You should try it sometime instead of hiding in your number cave with your little—" She caught herself. Breathed. "With Proud."
Wine's expression flickered. Something there and gone, too fast to name. "Proud is my colleague. She's new. I'm training her."
"Oh, I'm sure you are." Lal stepped forward too, matching Wine's invasion of space. They were close now. Too close for professional. Close enough that Lal could see the faint smudge of eyeliner at the corner of Wine's eye, the one she always missed when she was in a hurry. "I'm sure that's all it is. Very professional. Very hands-on."
"At least I don't throw myself at every available woman in the break room."
"I wasn't throwing myself at anyone!"
"No?" Wine's voice dropped, going quiet and dangerous. "You sat down uninvited. You made inappropriate comments. You nearly destroyed my laptop with your ‘noodles’." She said the word like it was a moral failing. "If that's not throwing yourself, what is?"
Lal's hands were shaking. She clenched them at her sides. "I was being friendly. It's what normal people do. They sit together. They talk. They don't treat each other like—" She stopped, the words catching in her throat.
"Like what?" Wine pressed. She took another step, and now they were in each other's space, the space that had always been theirs, charged and secret and wrong. "Like what, Lal?"
"Like strangers," Lal whispered. "We fuck in hotel rooms and pretend we don't know each other in hallways. We have rules about not feeling things and then you look at me like —" Her voice broke. She hated it. She hated herself. "Like you did just now. Like you have any right to be angry about Medsai when you were touching her.”
Wine went very still. "I wasn't touching Proud."
"She was touching you. And you let her. You leaned into it!” Lal was breathing hard now, all the careful control she'd maintained since the stairwell crumbling to dust. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to act like I don't exist and then drag me into your office because someone else looked at me the way you won't.”
The silence stretched between them, thin and vibrating.
Wine's hands were at her sides, but they weren't still anymore. Her fingers flexed, curled, like she was fighting to keep them from doing something.
"I didn't drag you here," she said finally, her voice barely audible.
"Yes, you did. 'My office. Now.'" Lal mimicked Wine's tone, cold and clipped, but it came out wounded instead. "You sounded like my boss. You sounded like you owned me."
Wine's breath caught. Lal saw it — the hitch in her chest, the way her eyes went dark and desperate. "I don't own you."
"No. You don't." Lal should step back. She should leave. She should go to dinner with Medsai and forget this ever happened. But she couldn't move. She was pinned by Wine's proximity, by the scent of cedar and something else, by the memory of Wine's teeth on her shoulder and Wine's voice in her ear saying don't stop, don't stop, don't—
"Then why are you here?" Lal asked. Her voice was barely a whisper. "If you don't care. If I'm just... available. Convenient. Why did you call me here?"
Wine didn't answer. Her eyes dropped to Lal's mouth, and Lal felt it like a touch.
"I know why," Lal said, and she was trembling now, but she didn't stop. "Because you heard her flirting with me. Because you saw her hand on my collar. Because for one second, you thought I might say yes, and you —" She laughed, brittle and broken. "You couldn't stand it. The great Wine Vetaka, jealous of another manager."
Wine moved.
It was fast and uncontrolled, nothing like her usual precision. She grabbed Lal's wrist — not hard, but firm, grounding — and pulled her closer, close enough that their bodies pressed together, close enough that Lal could feel Wine's heart hammering against her own.
"I'm not jealous," Wine said, but her voice was wrecked, and her eyes were on Lal's mouth again, and she was lying, she was lying.
Wine’s control finally snapped.
She grabbed the front of Lal’s crisp white button-up with both hands and shoved her forward hard. Lal’s hips slammed into the edge of the desk, knocking over the neat stack of papers. Documents fluttered down around their feet like fallen leaves.
Before Lal could even steady herself, Wine was already yanking the silk tie from around her neck with sharp, impatient tugs, nearly choking her in the process.
“Hands behind your back. Right now,” Wine hissed, voice low and trembling with barely suppressed rage.
Lal’s breath hitched audibly, but she obeyed, bringing her wrists together behind her. Wine twisted the tie around them with ruthless efficiency, wrapping the silk multiple times before knotting it painfully tight. The fabric dug into Lal’s skin, forcing her shoulders back and pushing her chest down harder against the cold wooden desk. Her ass jutted out obscenely in this position.
Wine didn’t waste a second. She reached down, roughly unbuckled Lal’s belt, unzipped her slacks, and shoved both the slacks and Lal’s soaked underwear down her thighs in one aggressive motion. The cool office air hit Lal’s exposed skin, making her shiver. Wine kicked Lal’s legs wider apart with her expensive heels, spreading her open.
“You let her touch your collar,” Wine growled right against Lal’s ear, voice dripping with jealousy. “You let Medsai put her hands on you… smiling at her like a desperate slut right in front of me.”
Lal moaned loudly at the first touch — a needy, broken sound — as Wine pushed two fingers straight into her dripping cunt from behind. There was no gentleness, no teasing. Wine drove them deep in one rough thrust, then immediately started fucking her hard, fingers slamming in and out with furious speed. Wet, filthy squelching sounds filled the quiet office with every brutal stroke.
“Wine—ahh! Fuck—!” Lal moaned again, louder this time, her bound hands twitching uselessly behind her back as her body rocked forward against the desk with every thrust.
Wine’s hand shot up instantly and clamped tightly over Lal’s mouth, smothering the sounds. Her palm pressed hard against Lal’s lips, fingers digging into her cheek.“Quiet,” Wine snarled softly, breath hot against the back of Lal’s neck. “Not a single fucking sound. Do you want the whole floor to hear you?”
She kept her hand locked firmly over Lal’s mouth while she continued destroying her from behind. Three fingers now — stretching Lal open, pounding into her soaked pussy with deep, angry strokes.
The jealousy fueled every movement.
Wine fucked her like she was trying to erase the memory of Medsai’s flirtation, like she could claim ownership through sheer force. Her fingers curled viciously, hitting that sensitive spot over and over while slick juices coated her hand and dripped down Lal’s thighs.
Lal’s legs shook violently. Her forehead pressed hard against the desk, drool leaking against Wine’s palm as she moaned and whimpered helplessly into the hand gagging her. The desk creaked rhythmically under the force of Wine’s thrusts. Her slacks were bunched around her knees, her white shirt rumpled and half-pulled out, tie now binding her wrists red.Wine leaned over her completely, blouse brushing against Lal’s back, pencil skirt riding up her own thighs as she kept railing her without mercy. Her fingers fucked Lal faster, harder, nastier — knuckles deep, curling, scissoring, making an absolute mess. Wetness was everywhere: dripping down Lal’s thighs, coating Wine’s hand, forming a small puddle on the floor beneath them.
“You’re mine to fuck like this,” Wine whispered harshly against Lal’s ear, voice tight with possessive anger. “Not hers. Never hers.”
Lal’s entire body tensed. Her muffled cries grew frantic against Wine’s palm as the orgasm crashed into her. She came violently — thighs quivering uncontrollably, pussy clenching and gushing around Wine’s fingers, juices squirting messily down her legs and onto the carpet. Her bound hands strained against the silk tie as wave after wave tore through her.
Wine didn’t stop thrusting until Lal was a trembling, twitching wreck, completely spent and slumped against the desk. Only then did she slowly pull her drenched fingers out, watching with dark satisfaction as a thick string of Lal’s cum stretched between her fingers and Lal’s swollen pussy. She wiped her hand carelessly on Lal’s rumpled white shirt, leaving shiny streaks across the fabric.
Without saying a word, she reached behind Lal and untied the silk tie from her wrists.
Lal let out a shaky breath as her arms fell limp to her sides, wrists marked red from the tight binding. Before she could recover or push herself up from the desk, Wine grabbed her by the shoulder and roughly spun her around.Lal’s back hit the desk with a soft thud. Wine immediately pushed her flat onto her back, scattering even more papers onto the floor. Lal’s slacks were still bunched around her knees, her white button-up wrinkled and half-open, chest heaving.
Wine didn’t give her any time to adjust. She took the same silk tie and looped it over Lal’s eyes, pulling it tight before knotting it securely behind her head. The world went completely black for Lal.
“Wine…” Lal breathed, voice still shaky from her first orgasm.
But Wine was already dropping to her knees between Lal’s spread legs. She shoved Lal’s thighs wide apart, exposing her dripping, swollen pussy completely.
Without any warning, Wine buried her face between Lal’s legs.
A loud, needy moan ripped out of Lal the moment Wine’s hot tongue dragged slowly up her soaked folds, tasting the mess she had made earlier.
“Ahh—fuck—Wine—!”
Wine instantly reached up with one hand and clamped it tightly over Lal’s mouth, muffling the desperate sounds. Her other arm hooked under one of Lal’s thighs, holding her open as she devoured her.
She ate Lal out with messy, ravenous hunger. Her tongue licked broad, sloppy stripes through Lal’s dripping cunt, collecting every drop of her earlier release. Then she sucked hard on Lal’s swollen clit, lips sealed tight around it while her tongue flicked mercilessly. Wet, obscene slurping sounds filled the quiet office as Wine licked, sucked, and tongue-fucked her without restraint.
Lal’s hips bucked wildly against Wine’s face. Her muffled moans and whimpers vibrated desperately against Wine’s palm. The blindfold made every sensation more intense — she could only feel Wine’s hot mouth, her tongue thrusting deep inside her, her lips sucking greedily on her clit.
Wine was relentless. She pushed her tongue as deep as it would go, fucking Lal with it in messy strokes while her nose rubbed against Lal’s clit. Then she would pull back to suck hard on her folds, drinking down the fresh gush of wetness that kept leaking out of her. Lal’s juices coated Wine’s chin, dripped down her jaw, and smeared across her lips. A shiny mess was forming on the desk beneath Lal’s ass.
“You taste like you’re still thinking about her,” Wine growled quietly against Lal’s cunt, voice thick with jealousy, before diving back in even harder. She sucked Lal’s clit into her mouth again, tongue lashing fast and firm, refusing to let up.
Lal’s thighs started trembling violently around Wine’s head. Her back arched off the desk, bound only by Wine’s strong grip and the hand still firmly gagging her mouth. Muffled cries grew more frantic as Wine kept sucking and licking through the overwhelming pleasure, making an absolute sloppy mess between Lal’s legs.
When Lal finally came the second time, it hit her even harder than the first. Her whole body seized up, thighs clamping tightly around Wine’s head as her pussy gushed against Wine’s tongue. Wine kept licking her through every wave, drinking down everything Lal gave her, refusing to pull away until Lal was shaking and twitching uncontrollably on the desk.
Only then did Wine slowly lift her head, lips and chin glistening with Lal’s cum. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing heavily, eyes dark with lingering possessive anger as she looked at the blindfolded, ruined woman laid out on her desk.
Wine stayed between Lal’s trembling thighs for a few more seconds, licking her lips slowly, her chin still glistening. Then she stood, quickly pushing her pencil skirt and soaked panties down her legs and stepping out of them. Her blouse remained on, slightly disheveled.
She climbed onto the desk and straddled Lal’s waist, lowering her dripping pussy directly onto Lal’s bare stomach. The moment her slick, swollen folds met the firm, toned surface of Lal’s abs, Wine exhaled sharply.
Lal’s abs were tight and sculpted from her regular workouts — hard ridges of muscle that pressed up perfectly against Wine’s sensitive flesh.
“Wine…” Lal breathed shakily, voice hoarse, “you’re so wet…”
Wine immediately pressed her hand over Lal’s mouth again, muffling her. “Shh. Quiet.”
She started rolling her hips slowly at first, dragging her soaked cunt along the defined lines of Lal’s abdomen. The firm, workout-hardened ridges rubbed directly against her clit with every movement, sending sharp sparks of pleasure through her. Her wetness spread quickly, coating Lal’s stomach in shiny, slippery streaks and making the friction even smoother and filthier.
Lal whimpered against Wine’s palm as she felt the hot, slick heat sliding back and forth across her abs.
Wine braced her hands on Lal’s shoulders and started riding harder, pressing her clit down firmly against those toned muscles. “This is how wet I got for you…” she whispered hoarsely, voice thick with lingering jealousy. “Only for you.”
She rolled her hips in greedy, messy circles, making sure every rigid line of Lal’s abs dragged perfectly along her swollen clit. The wet, obscene sounds of her pussy grinding against Lal’s skin filled the quiet office.
Her arousal was everywhere — smearing across Lal’s toned stomach, pooling in the deep grooves between her abs, and dripping down her sides.
Lal moaned into Wine’s hand, the sound vibrating against her palm. When Wine slightly loosened her grip for a moment, Lal gasped out breathlessly, “Fuck… I can feel you throbbing against me…”
Wine’s eyes darkened. She pressed her hand back over Lal’s mouth firmly and rode her harder, hips bucking with possessive need. Her clit rubbed relentlessly against the firm, sculpted ridges, using the hardness of Lal’s abs to stimulate herself exactly how she wanted. The mess grew nastier with every stroke — thick, creamy juices coating Lal’s entire midsection.
Lal’s body twitched and shivered underneath her. Muffled desperate sounds kept leaking out despite Wine’s hand, her abs flexing instinctively beneath the slick, grinding heat.
Wine’s thighs began to shake violently. She rode faster, grinding her dripping cunt down with frantic, jerky movements, clit catching every firm edge of Lal’s toned stomach.
Finally, she slammed her hips down hard, grinding her clit desperately against the most prominent ridge of Lal’s abs as her orgasm hit her hard.
A hot rush of release gushed out of her, soaking Lal’s stomach completely. Wine’s thighs clamped tight around Lal’s waist, trembling uncontrollably as she kept rolling her hips through the intense waves, smearing her cum all over Lal’s firm abs in long, messy strokes. She rode out every pulse until she was spent, still slowly dragging her soaked pussy across the slick, cum-covered muscle.
Breathing heavily, Wine finally lifted her hand from Lal’s mouth. She reached behind Lal’s head and untied the blindfold, letting the silk fall away.
Their eyes met — Wine’s still dark and possessive, Lal’s glassy and completely fucked-out.Wine leaned down, biting Lal’s lower lip sharply.
“Don’t ever let her touch you again,” she whispered.
Wine kissed her like she was staking an absolute claim.
It was deep, hungry, and messy — her tongue pushing into Lal’s mouth with possessive strokes.
Lal moaned softly into the kiss as she tasted herself all over Wine’s tongue and lips, the slick evidence of her own orgasms still coating Wine’s mouth. Their lips slid together slick and desperate, saliva mixing with the taste of Lal’s release as Wine sucked on her tongue and bit her lower lip hard.
Below them, Wine’s warm cum glistened across Lal’s toned, cum-smeared stomach, sticking between their bodies as Wine pressed closer, deepening the filthy kiss with a quiet, satisfied growl. When she finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva still connected their swollen lips, both breathing heavily with eyes locked in the charged silence of the office.
Lal licked her lips, still dazed and sticky, then let out a breathless, crooked smile.
“…Fuck. I know you just ate me out like you were starving, but I’m still hungry,” she rasped, voice rough.
“Shut up.”