The Office After Hours

The office was dark except for the faint glow of desk lamps and the hum of the city lights streaming through the tall glass windows. Everyone had gone home hours ago, but I stayed behind, finishing reports. Or at least, that was the excuse I gave myself.

Because she was still here too.

My colleague. My temptation.

She was seated across the room, her blouse slightly unbuttoned, heels kicked off beneath her desk. The silence stretched between us, heavy with an energy that had nothing to do with work.

When she stood to stretch, the soft fabric of her skirt rode up just enough to expose the curve of her thigh. My breath hitched. She noticed.

“Still working?” she asked, her voice low, teasing.

“Trying to,” I replied, leaning back in my chair. “But you’re making it difficult.”

Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. She crossed the room, hips swaying with deliberate grace, and perched herself on the edge of my desk. The papers scattered, forgotten.

“I think we deserve a break,” she whispered, leaning down so close I could feel the warmth of her breath.

I couldn’t resist. My hands slid to her waist, pulling her against me. Our mouths collided—hungry, urgent. She moaned softly, fingers tangling in my hair as I lifted her onto the desk, papers falling like confetti around us.

Her legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer. I unbuttoned her blouse, revealing lace that clung to her skin. The sight of her beneath the dim light, vulnerable yet daring, set me on fire.

“Someone could walk in,” I murmured, even as my lips traced down her neck.

“That’s what makes it hotter,” she breathed, arching into my touch.

The desk creaked beneath us as the tension exploded. Every kiss was deep, every movement desperate, every sound of her pleasure echoing through the empty office. The risk of discovery fueled the fire—we were lost in each other, no longer colleagues, no longer cautious. Just raw need.

Her nails raked down my back as her body trembled, release breaking through her in gasps that filled the silent room. I followed, the intensity overwhelming, both of us clinging to the edge of the desk as if it were the only thing keeping us from falling apart completely.

When it was over, she lay back against the desk, chest rising and falling, hair spread like a halo. I kissed her once more, slow and tender this time, before helping her fix her blouse.

She grinned wickedly. “Think you can finish that report now?”

I laughed breathlessly, still shaking. “Not a chance.”