Her spine scrapes raw on the doorframe
Elena barely registered the shift in the air before Matthew’s hand fisted in the front of her blouse and hauled her backward. Her shoulder blades hit the doorframe hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs, and before she could even process the impact, his mouth was on hers, biting rather than kissing, one knee shoving between her thighs to pin her skirt against the wood. His whole body caged her in, heat pouring off his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt, and she could feel his heartbeat slamming against her sternum where he crushed himself against her.
His hands were everywhere at once, rough and impatient, dragging up her ribs to shove her blouse free of her waistband. He got two buttons open before he lost patience and just tore the rest, fabric popping loose from the placket, shoving her bra cup down with his thumb until her breast spilled free, the cool corridor air hitting her nipple a half-second before his mouth did. He sucked hard, teeth grazing, and Elena’s spine arched off the frame with a gasp that echoed too loud down the empty hall.
“Quiet,” he muttered against her skin, though his own breathing was already wrecked, coming in short, hot bursts against her collarbone. His fingers found the button of her skirt and fought it open, cursing under his breath when the zipper caught halfway. He wrenched it hard, twice, until the teeth gave with a small tearing sound, and only then did he shove the denim and her underwear down together, hard, until they bunched at her mid-thigh, trapping her legs half together even as he tried to open her up.
She felt him fumble with his own belt, the metal clinking frantically, his knuckles brushing her bare hip as he shoved his slacks and boxers down just far enough to free himself. His cock sprang free, already leaking, and he ground the length of it against her exposed cunt, sliding through wetness that had been building for weeks of stolen glances and closed office doors. Elena’s hands scrabbled at his shirt, popping one button loose, then another when the fabric wouldn’t give her enough, until she could feel the heat of his skin scald her palms through the widening gap.
“You’re soaked already,” he rasped, dragging the fat head of his cock through her slick folds, catching on her clit hard enough to make her knees buckle. “Just from me shoving you against a wall. Christ, Elena.”
He reached down and ripped the denim the rest of the way off her right leg, freeing it from the bunched fabric, and hitched it up fast, hooking it high over his shoulder while her left leg stayed trapped, skirt and underwear still cinched around that thigh. The new angle spread her open just as he drove into her in one brutal push, his forearm braced hard against the frame beside her head, taking her weight so she didn’t have to hold it alone. Her back slammed the wood again, the molding biting into her spine, and she cried out — a short, strangled sound she tried to swallow — as he stretched her around his thick length, buried to the hilt, his hips flush against her pelvis.
“There she is,” he growled against her ear, voice low and scraped raw. “Look at you taking every inch like you were made to fit around me.”
He started moving before she’d even adjusted, long deliberate drags that had her nails digging crescents into his shoulder through his shirt. Her bare breast rubbed against the rough fabric of his collar with every thrust, catching in the gap where the buttons had given way, her nipple dragging against cotton and then against his hot bare chest as he shifted closer. The doorframe groaned under the repeated impact of her shoulder blade, and she could feel sweat gathering at the small of her back, sliding down into the twisted waistband still trapped around her other thigh.
“You feel unbelievable,” he whispered, mouth moving from her ear down to the side of her throat, teeth scraping over her pulse. “So tight. So wet. I’ve thought about this every single day you walked past my office in those skirts.”
His hand slid up to fist in her hair, tilting her head back to expose more of her throat, and he sucked a mark into the skin there while his hips kept up a punishing, driving rhythm, his other arm locked around her waist, palm splayed against the side of her hip to keep her pinned upright against the frame. Elena’s moan came out broken, half-muffled against his shoulder, her free hand scrambling for purchase against the wood as her whole body rocked with each thrust. The wet sound of him sliding in and out of her filled the corridor, obscene and echoing, and the thought that anyone could round the corner and see them like this — her shirt torn open, breast bared, one leg trapped in twisted denim and the other hooked over her boss’s shoulder — sent another rush of slick down between her legs.
“Feel that?” he said, voice ragged, hips stuttering for just a second before he caught his rhythm again. “That’s you dripping down onto me. You’re drenched, Elena. Nobody’s ever gripped me like this.”
He changed the angle, hitching her leg higher, tightening his arm around her back to keep her steady, and the head of his cock dragged over a spot inside her that made her vision white out at the edges. She clenched around him instinctively, and he groaned low in his throat, forehead dropping to press against hers for a moment before he pulled back to watch her face, eyes dark, pupils blown wide.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Squeeze me like that again.”
He let go of her hair, dragging his hand down the length of her body until his thumb found her clit, pressing rough circles against the swollen bud, timed exactly with the drive of his hips, and Elena felt the pressure building low and fast, her trapped thigh starting to shake against his ribs. She tried to push down onto him, chasing the feeling, but he pulled back just enough to keep her from tipping over, drawing out slow only to slam back in hard.
“Not yet,” he ordered, voice harsh, his breath coming in ragged pulls against her damp throat. “Hold it for me. I want to feel you right on the edge before I let you fall.”
“Matthew—” Her voice cracked around his name, hips jerking helplessly against his hand.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, softer now, almost reverent even as his hips kept pounding into her without mercy. “Nobody’s ever felt this good wrapped around me. You were built for exactly this, you know that?”
He shifted his grip, his palm sliding from her clit to grab her bared breast, thumb rolling roughly over her nipple, and the new sensation sent a fresh jolt straight down between her legs. Her whole body was strung tight, muscles locked, the doorframe scraping her spine raw with every thrust as he kept the pace brutal and relentless, his arm still clamped around her lower back, refusing to let her tip over the edge he’d built her onto — and refusing to let her fall.
“Look how perfect you take this,” he said against her ear, voice dropping into something darker, more urgent, his own control clearly fraying at the edges — his hips stuttering out of rhythm for half a second, a groan tearing out of him that he bit back against her shoulder. “I could stay here all night just feeling you squeeze my cock like this.”
“Please,” she gasped, her trapped leg trembling violently now, her arms barely holding on around his neck. “Please, I can’t—”
“You can,” he growled, hand fisting back into her hair, tilting her face so she had to look at him, sweat beading at his temple, his shirt hanging open at the throat where the buttons had scattered, damp against his chest where her palm had shoved it wider. “You’re going to hold it until I tell you. Because you’re doing everything exactly right.”
He drove into her harder, faster, the wet slap of skin against skin turning frantic, uncontrolled. Her bare nipple scraped against his open collar with every jolt, the friction almost too much layered on top of everything else, and she felt herself hovering right at the point of no return, her standing leg shaking so hard she wasn’t sure how she was still upright, pinned only by the frame at her back and the iron grip of his arm banded around her.
His mouth crashed against hers again, swallowing the whimper that broke out of her throat, and when he pulled back his forehead pressed to hers, breath scraping out of him in short, hot pants that fanned across her lips.
“Come,” he ordered, voice dropping to something low and absolute, right against her mouth. “Right now. Give it to me.”
The command broke something loose in her. Her orgasm hit instantly and violently, her cunt clamping down hard around him in a rhythm she couldn’t control, pleasure ripping through her belly and down her thighs in waves that left her shuddering against the frame. She cried out into his shoulder, muffled, body jerking with each pulse, and he didn’t stop moving, driving through the clenching grip of her until her slick ran down over his balls and the inside of her still-trapped thigh.
He followed seconds later with a rough, guttural sound against her throat, hips slamming forward one last time as he buried himself to the base and held there, cock throbbing hard inside her, spilling in thick, hot pulses that she felt with every aftershock still rippling through her.
They stayed like that, chests heaving, her leg still hooked shaking over his shoulder, her shirt gaping open at the torn placket, her right leg bare and free while her skirt and underwear stayed twisted uselessly around her other thigh where they had never come loose, his slacks shoved down just enough to have done the damage. The corridor was silent except for their ragged breathing, and it was that silence — the absence of footsteps, of a door opening somewhere down the hall — that seemed to reach Elena first. Her heart, already hammering from the orgasm, kicked into a different, colder gear.
Matthew eased her leg down off his shoulder, slow, almost careful, but neither of them moved to fully separate right away, both still catching their breath with her back against the frame and him buried close. Then his eyes flicked, briefly, toward the far end of the corridor — toward the elevator bank, toward the security camera blinking its small red light above the fire exit sign — and Elena watched something shutter behind his expression, the boss sliding back over the man who’d just had her pinned half-naked against company property.
He stepped back first, tucking himself away, already reaching to straighten his shirt over the missing buttons, and Elena yanked her skirt up over her hip with hands that weren’t quite steady, heat rising in her face that had nothing to do with pleasure now. Neither of them said anything. The silence that had felt urgent a minute ago now felt like exposure, like the walls themselves had eyes, and when Matthew finally looked at her again, it wasn’t heat in his face anymore — it was the flat, assessing look of a man calculating how much damage control this was going to require come Monday.