The Dusty Stacks
Between the leather-bound books, his serious demeanor vanished when she sank to her knees. The student’s footsteps echoed, but he only fisted her hair and rocked deeper. “Finish before,” he panted, “they check this aisle.”
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Office
The typing sounds masked their soft moans as she crouched under his desk. His pants unzipped, her lips wrapped around his arousal, her gaze fixed on the surveillance lens in the corner. A boss’s shout carried from the kitchen, and he warned, “They’ll see us.” She just hummed, her grip urging his legs until he growled.
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