My pussy throbs harder as I slide on a skintight teal dress and put on my sluttiest heels.
I don’t bother looking in the mirror since I already know what I’ll see.
In the Goldpoint parking lot, my fingers find my wedding ring. I pull it off slowly and set it in the center console next to a gas station receipt and a loose quarter.
It looks so small.
I know I shouldn’t be here. And knowing that sends a clench through me so hard my thighs press together.
Being here without Robert’s knowledge or permission is wrong. And my body just translated that wrongness into a gush of wetness that slicks my inner thighs.
Holy fuck.
I close the console lid so I don’t have to look at my ring.
Diana is behind the bar, and she smiles when she sees me, as if she’s not surprised I’m here on a Sunday night.
“He’s upstairs.” She pours a whiskey without being asked and sets it in front of me. “It’s just him tonight. Adrian’s not around.”
I don’t drink the whiskey, and when she moves away to serve someone else, I leave it and a twenty on the bar.
The elevator doors open on Tony’s floor, and he’s standing fifteen feet from the elevator doors in his black polo with the sleeves straining against his arms, phone in hand. He was either tipped off by Diana or he saw me on the security feed. Three security men instead of two are stationed near his office door, and the third has a phone pressed to his ear, pacing with clipped urgency that says this has nothing to do with me.
“Shannon.” Tony tilts his head and studies me. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“I wasn’t expecting me tonight either.”
He moves fast. Three strides, and his hand is in my hair, pulling my head back, and my spine hits the hallway wall hard enough that the framed artwork rattles. Ten feet away, three men are pretending very hard to look at their phones.
His mouth finds the spot under my ear where my pulse is hammering, and his other hand shoves my skirt up around my hips.
“No panties.” I hear the grin against my throat. “Were you hoping for this?”
We both know the answer. I don’t need to say it.
His hand slides between my legs, fingers parting my folds, dragging through wetness. I’m soaked. My whimper is obscene in the quiet hallway, and knowing the guys can hear me makes this so much filthier.
“Goddamn.” His thumb circles my clit and my hips rock towards him. “You came here dripping.”
“Yes.” My voice comes out scraped, thighs already shaking.
He curls his fingers inside me, and I bite down on my own lip until I taste copper. My pussy squeezes around him, greedy, pulling his fingers deeper, and my hips grind against his hand because my body has no shame left.
“I could fuck you right here.” His thumb bears down on my clit and my vision blurs. “Let them watch.”
My eyes cut to the end of the hallway. Two are facing the other direction, but the third has his phone lowered, and I can feel his attention even if he’s pretending he doesn’t see the boss’s hand up my skirt.
My pussy floods Tony’s fingers, a gush so sudden that his hand goes slick to the wrist. I hear his breath hitch against my neck.
He finger fucks me, and the orgasm is already building. “Tell me you want them to watch.”
The words sit in my throat. My brain is already there—Tony pushing me to my hands and knees on the plush carpet while his guys pretend to check their phones—but my mouth won’t cooperate.
My pussy cooperates just fine. Tony feels me clench around his fingers and laughs. “That’s what I thought.”
He pulls his fingers out. I whimper at the loss, my pussy throbbing around nothing, and he holds his glistening hand up as if to show me exactly how wet I am.
“Come on.” He takes my hand with his dry one and pulls me down the hallway.
