The Night Shift

The office was a graveyard of fluorescent light and humming computers, and I was its only ghost. I’d come back for my phone, a stupid mistake, and the silence was so thick I could almost taste the dust. That’s when I heard the click of the stairwell door, and my heart did a stupid little flip.

“Shit,” a voice said, and I spun around.

A woman stood there, halfway in the shadows, a lanyard swinging from her fingers. She was older than me, maybe mid-thirties, with dark hair pulled back in a messy knot and a sharpness in her green eyes that made my throat go dry. She wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, just a thin white blouse, and I could see the outline of her bra beneath it.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I said, instantly feeling like an idiot.

“Neither are you.” She smiled, a slow, dangerous thing. “I’m Maya. I’m the one who locks up. Forgot my keys.”

I laughed, a short, nervous sound. “Jake. Forgot my phone. Looks like we’re both idiots.”

She leaned against the doorframe, and the air between us changed. It got thicker, charged. Her eyes traveled down my body, slow and deliberate, and when they came back up, they were darker.

“You know,” she said, her voice dropping to a low murmur, “I’ve got a whole floor of empty offices. And a very good security system.” She tilted her head. “No one’s coming back until six a.m.”

My cock was already stirring, a hot, insistent pressure against my jeans. This was insane. She was a stranger. But the way she was looking at me, like I was a problem she wanted to solve, made every rational thought dissolve.

“What are you suggesting?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

She walked past me, her hip brushing against my arm, and the scent of her perfume—something floral and sharp—filled my head. She stopped by the glass wall of a corner office, looking out at the city lights.

“I’m suggesting,” she said, not turning around, “that you cuff me to that chair and have your way with me.”

I blinked. "What?"

She turned, and in her hand was a pair of silver handcuffs, the real kind, glinting under the fluorescent light. She must have had them in her bag. My breath hitched.

“You heard me.” Her eyes were challenging, a little wild. “I’ve had a shit day. My boss is an asshole, my boyfriend is a bigger one, and I need to feel something else. Something real.” She walked over to the plush leather chair by the desk and sat down, holding the cuffs out to me. “You interested, or are you just gonna stand there with your mouth open?”

I moved before I could think. I took the cuffs, the metal cold against my palm, and walked around the chair. She leaned back, exposing the pale column of her throat, and I could see her pulse hammering there. I clicked one cuff around her left wrist, then the other, securing them behind her back. The sound of the ratchet was obscenely loud in the quiet.

“There,” I breathed, my hands on her shoulders. “Now what?”

Her smile was pure sin. “Now you take what you want.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I sank to my knees in front of her, my hands sliding up her thighs. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, and it was tight, so I had to bunch it up around her waist. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose, just a pair of black lace panties that were already damp. I hooked my fingers under the fabric and pulled them aside.

Her pussy was shaved smooth, and glistening. I leaned in and inhaled, the musky scent of her arousal flooding my senses. “Fuck, Maya,” I groaned, my tongue tracing her slit.

She gasped, her hips bucking against my mouth. “God, yes.”

I licked her, slow and deliberate, from her entrance to her clit, which was already swollen and hard. I circled it with my tongue, then sucked it gently into my mouth. She tasted incredible—salty and sweet, pure woman. Her moans filled the office, bouncing off the glass.

“More,” she panted, her voice strained. “Please, fuck, more.”

I pushed two fingers inside her, feeling the tight, wet heat of her. She was so ready, so open. I fucked her with my fingers while I lapped at her clit, and she was writhing in the chair, the cuffs rattling against the leather.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasped, her legs shaking. “Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop.”

I didn't. I buried my face in her, sucking and licking until her whole body arched and she cried out, a sharp, guttural sound as her orgasm pulsed against my mouth. I kept going until her trembling subsided, then I stood up, unbuckling my jeans.

My cock was rock hard, leaking pre-cum. I stroked it a couple of times, watching her, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed. “You still want this?”

She licked her lips. “I want you to fuck me until I forget my own name.”

I positioned myself between her thighs, the tip of my cock pressing against her slick entrance. She was looking right at me, her eyes locked on mine, and I pushed in.

A strangled gasp tore from her throat as I filled her. She was so tight, so hot, and I had to pause, my forehead resting against hers. “Jesus, Maya.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she whispered.

I started to move, slow at first, a deep, grinding rhythm that made her moan with every stroke. The cuffs were keeping her in place, her arms pinned behind her, forcing her tits out, her nipples hard against the thin fabric of her blouse. I ripped the buttons open, and her breasts spilled out, perfect handfuls with dark pink nipples.

I leaned down and took one in my mouth, sucking hard, while my hips picked up the pace. I was pounding into her now, the chair sliding across the floor with every thrust. She was moaning, incoherent, her head thrown back.

“Yes, yes, fuck, right there,” she begged.

I grabbed her hips, pulling her closer, driving deeper. The angle changed, and I hit something that made her scream. I kept going, relentless, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the empty office. I could feel my own climax building, a tight coil in my balls.

“I’m gonna come,” I grunted. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” she gasped, her eyes wide. “Please, fill me up. I want to feel it.”

That was all I needed. With a final, brutal thrust, I came, my cock pulsing deep inside her as I emptied myself. She came again with me, her inner walls clenching around me, milking me dry. We stayed like that for a long moment, panting, slick with sweat, her cuffed hands still behind her back.

Finally, I reached behind her and released the cuffs. She winced, rubbing her wrists. “Fuck,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “That was… unexpected.”

I laughed, breathless, and pulled her to her feet. I kissed her, soft and slow, a tender contrast to the roughness of moments before. Her hands came up to cup my face, and she kissed me back with a surprising sweetness.

“So,” she murmured against my lips, “same time tomorrow?”

I looked at the handcuffs on the desk, then at her. “I’ll bring the keys.”

CATEGORIES: [Chains and cuffs, Office, Stranger, Rough sex, Just the Two of Us]