02-10-2025, 07:18 PM
The rest of the afternoon was a special kind of torture. Every time I looked up, I felt Ranjeet’s eyes on me, a burning, possessive heat that made the space between my thighs clench. The frustration from our interrupted moment in the pantry simmered just below the surface, a low, dangerous hum. He was a caged tiger, his focus on the project warring with the raw, potent need that radiated from him in palpable waves.
Around four o’clock, the pressure hit its breaking point. A demand came from the client for immediate physical copies of the finalized project schematics, to be sent out with the evening courier. Ranjeet strode out of his cabin, his face set like stone, and stacked a heavy box with the thick, bound documents.
He walked past my cubicle, not stopping, but leaned in close as if to inspect my screen. The scent of his sandalwood cologne and something deeper-pure, masculine sweat-enveloped me. “I’m taking these down to the basement dispatch,” he murmured, his voice a low, private rumble meant only for me. He straightened up, and his eyes met mine for a fraction of a second. The look was an unspoken command, a raw plea, a dangerous promise. “Freight elevator. Give me two minutes.”
And then he was gone, his purposeful stride carrying him and the box out of the main office area.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage. Two minutes. The words echoed in the sudden silence of my mind. I stared at my screen, but the screen blurred into a meaningless jumble. Every second stretched into an eternity. I could feel the blood pulsing in my veins, a rhythm of fear and intoxicating excitement.
One minute passed. I took a slow sip of water, my hand trembling almost imperceptibly. I scanned the office from the corner of my eye. Everyone was engrossed, their faces illuminated by the glow of their monitors, racing against the deadline. No one was watching me. It was now or never.
After what felt like a lifetime, I pushed my chair back, stood, and smoothed down my kameez. With a steadying breath, I walked not towards the main exit, but towards the less-trafficked service corridor, my heels clicking softly on the tiled floor.
He was there, leaning against the cool wall beside the freight elevator, the heavy box of files at his feet. The relief that washed over his face when he saw me was immediate and profound, quickly replaced by the familiar, dark fire of desire. He didn't speak. He just pushed the call button.
The heavy metal doors groaned open, revealing the dim, scuffed-up car. We stepped inside. The second the doors began to grind shut, sealing us in, the air became thick with unspoken words and pent-up energy.
The moment the lock engaged, Ranjeet dropped the box. It hit the floor with a heavy, definitive thud that echoed in the sudden silence. He lunged for the control panel and slammed his palm against the large, red emergency stop button.
The elevator car jerked violently, throwing me off balance and into his chest. Then, everything went still. We were suspended, trapped between floors, the hum of the building a distant memory.
“Ranjeet…” I breathed, but the word was swallowed as he sealed my mouth with his lips.
His kiss was a brutal, starving claiming. He tasted of coffee and a week of pure, male frustration. His hand tangled in my hair, gripping the back of my head to hold me steady as his tongue drove into my mouth, an invasion I met with equal, desperate force. I whimpered into his mouth, the sound stolen by his fervent kiss.
He spun me around with a sudden, forceful twist of his hands on my shoulders, my body whirling in the confined elevator like a leaf caught in a storm. I gasped, caught off guard-I’d expected nothing more than a stolen kiss, a heated embrace to tide us over until later, but this was unexpected, urgent.
My front body was slammed against the cool, vibrating metal wall and the shock of the cold surface seeping through my kameez was like ice water. It made my nipples harden instantly against the purple lace bra. My breasts were pressed flat against the unyielding steel. My stomach was flattened against the wall. Its chill was biting into my flushed skin and my cheek grazed the metal. Its faint metallic tang filled my nostrils.
My hands shot out to brace myself with my palms slapping against the wall on either side of my head as I tried to steady myself.
“Ranjeet, wait—” I murmured but it was vague and unheard. I was surprised by the sudden action. I was concerned what would happen if someone caught us but Ranjeet was not in the mood of listening.
I pushed back with my hips, trying to break free
“Ranjeet….not here…what if……”
“Don’t worry darling…..it’s a service lift…..no one give a fuck about it…my love…” Was his reply.
His hands were everywhere, commanding and possessive: one gripped my waist firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above my salwar, holding me in place with overwhelming strength. His other hand moved to my front and felt my breasts from over the kameez.
He trapped me completely with the hard length of his body, his chest a solid wall against my back and his thighs pinned mine. His hard dick pressed insistently against the curve of my soft ass. It was thick and unyielding through the layers of his jeans and my salwar and throbbing with a relentless rhythm that matched my racing pulse. It felt like a brand, hot and rigid, grinding against me with deliberate pressure, the sheer size of him making my breath hitch, a reminder of the power he held back, now unleashed in this confined space.
“I’m fucking done waiting, my love,” he snarled against my throat. His voice was thick with a week of pent-up agony and his hot breath fanning over my skin as his lips brushed my earlobe. The words were a dark vow, laced with frustration and raw need. Despite my vague resistance, my body betrayed me.I was no more resisting, instead waiting for the beautiful and lovely onslaught.
His left hand was wrapped around my waist, palm splaying flat against my belly, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of my kameez to anchor me tighter against him.His right hand slid lower and he frantically bunched up the hem of my kameez from behind, gathering the fabric higher and higher in his fist, exposing the curve of my lower back, the dip of my spine, and the tops of my hips to the cool air. His touch was urgent, rough, the material bunching in his grip until it was hiked up to my mid-back, leaving my ass vulnerable to the press of his body.
Then his right hand dropped to the knot of my salwar, fingers hooking into the drawstring with impatient precision. He tugged the knot sharply and it opened with a soft pop, waistband of salwar loosening instantly around my hips. The salwar sagged. He plunged lower, grabbing the waistband of both my salwar and the lace panties beneath in one frantic motion. With a desperate, forceful yank, he dragged them down together, the fabrics sliding over my hips in a tangled rush, exposing my bare ass and the slick, swollen lips of my pussy to the cool air.
Before I could process what just happened, his right hand threaded roughly through my thick mass of hair, fingers tangling at the nape, pulling my head back with just enough force to arch my spine. My throat exposed, my lips parted in a gasp, he twisted my head to the side and captured my mouth in a passionate kiss. His lips crushed mine, hot and demanding, his tongue thrusting deep without preamble, invading with the same urgency that pulsed through his body. He tasted of coffee and raw hunger, his stubble scbanging my cheek as he devoured me, swallowing my soft moans like it was fuel for his fire. My tongue tangled with his in desperate retaliation, the kiss turning wet and filthy, our breaths mingling in harsh pants against the metal wall.
While his mouth plundered mine, his left hand stayed firm on my belly, holding me steady as his hips ground forward, his rock-hard cock-still trapped in his jeans-nestling insistently between the cheeks of my bare ass, the thick ridge throbbing through the denim against my naked skin. The pressure was obscene, deliberate, making my exposed pussy clench emptily with every teasing grind. But he wasn't done. With his right hand still fisted in my hair, tilting my head for better access to my mouth, he fumbled at his zipper with awkward, frantic urgency, the metallic rasp of his zipper slicing through the air like a blade, the sound sharp and shocking in the confined space.
I felt the shift as he reached into his trousers, his hand brushing against my bare ass as he freed his cock, the heavy, heated weight of it springing out, thick and veined, slapping hotly against the curve of my exposed ass. It was massive, the blunt head already leaking precum, smearing a warm, sticky trail on my ass as he kicked his jeans down just enough to give himself room. My breath hitched in the kiss, surprise flaring again-this was too fast, too real-but the feel of him, bare and pulsing against me, drowned it out, my body arching back instinctively, craving the stretch despite the haze of shock.
From his pocket, he fished out a condom packet with a crinkle of foil, his right hand releasing my hair just long enough to tear it open with his teeth, the sharp rip cutting through our heavy breaths. He spat the wrapper aside, and in one fluid, desperate motion, rolled the latex down his throbbing length, the thin sheath doing little to hide the girth or the way it strained, shiny and ready, veins bulging under the surface. "Fuck, you're mine," he murmured against my lips, breaking the kiss for a split second, his voice wrecked with need, before diving back in, his tongue fucking my mouth in time with the subtle roll of his hips.
He didn't give me time to process; his left hand on my belly slid lower, pressing against my mound to hold me steady, while his right hand guided his sheathed cock to my entrance, the blunt tip parting my slick pussy with ease, teasing the throbbing heat of my pussy. "Spread wider," he growled into the kiss, his voice a shattered command, and I complied, shifting my feet apart on the scuffed floor, my body arching back in silent invitation.
With a primal thrust that stole my breath, he buried himself inside me from behind, the massive girth splitting my pussy open, filling me so completely that my scream tore from my throat, muffled against his mouth as my walls clamped down around his length, stretched to the point of exquisite agony. The condom's barrier was a mere whisper, letting me feel every vein, every pulse of him as he bottomed out, his balls pressing heavy against my thighs, his hips flush to my bare ass. The stretch burned, my pussy fluttering around him in shock and ecstasy, juices flooding down my legs as he held still for a heartbeat, savoring the tight, wet grip.
Then he moved-his hips snapping back and driving in again, hard and deep, setting a punishing rhythm that slammed my body against the vibrating metal. Each thrust pinned me firmer to the wall, my breasts dragging against the steel, nipples aching from the friction, while his left hand on my belly held me steady, fingers splaying wider to feel the bulge of his cock moving inside me through the kameez. His right hand returned to my hair, pulling just enough to arch me perfectly for his assault, his mouth latching onto the side of my neck, sucking a bruising mark as he fucked me relentlessly. The wet, obscene slap of his hips against my bare ass filled the car, mingling with my broken moans and his guttural groans, the risk of the office floors away only heightening the fire.
"Fuck Nabila….I so needed it…this tight pussy," he groaned, his voice frayed with need, his thrusts erratic now, deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made my knees buckle. The condom strained with every plunge, the latex slick with my arousal, his cock throbbing as he chased his release. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, my pussy spasming violently around his length, milking the sheathed cock as I sobbed his name, my body convulsing, juices flooding down my thighs.
He followed with a roar, his hips stuttering as he drove deep one last time, filling the condom with his hot, thick cum, the latex ballooning with his release, his body shuddering against mine in waves of raw ecstasy. We stayed locked like that, trembling, his forehead pressed to my shoulder, breaths ragged and synced. Slowly, he pulled out, the slick sound obscene, leaving me empty and aching.
The sudden emptiness was almost as shocking as the insertion, replaced instantly by the awareness of the cool, clammy air on my thoroughly wet, bare skin. He let go of my waist, and I immediately twisted away from the cool wall, turning to face him, my lower half naked, the fabrics bunched at my ankles. My legs felt like useless rubber beneath me, trembling from the double assault of the climax and the awkward position.
He didn't waste a second. His right hand instantly found the base of the condom, fingers pinching the edge of the latex. I heard a muffled, wet slurp as he peeled the slick, heavy sheath from his now-softening dick. He swiftly tied a tight knot at the opening of the ballooning condom, crushing the whole, warm mass into his palm.
"Jeez," I breathed out, my voice shaky, the reality of the mess and the location hitting me hard.
He didn't look at me, his eyes focused on the evidence in his hand as he carefully inserted the glistening, semen-filled knot back into the torn foil wrapper. He then slid the mess deep into his trousers pocket.
"What jeez….," he murmured, his gaze finally meeting mine, a possessive, dangerous glint in his eyes. "Don't tell me you want anyone to find this... or find out?"
"No," I whispered instantly, my eyes wide with panic. The very idea was paralyzing.
"Good. Then let's clean up," he said, the command cutting through the lingering passion.
Simultaneously, we moved to retrieve our composure. He swiftly tucked his heavy, semi-soft cock back into his trousers. I heard the rapid, metallic rasp of his zipper being aggressively yanked up-a deafening, frantic shing that sliced through the quiet cabin of lift, instantly trapping the rest of him in the rough denim. At the same moment, I frantically gripped the wet, tangled mass of my salwar and panties bunched around my ankles. With a staggering effort, I hauled the cold fabrics up over my hips.
My panties were twisted and my salwar was crooked.I tied the knot of my salwar in hurry and smoothed the Kameez down over my waist and hips, concealing the chaos beneath. The brief, brutal interlude was now invisible to the world.
He didn't wait for me to recover. He took a single, decisive step away from me, giving himself just enough room to reach the control panel. He slammed his palm against the emergency button, releasing the brake.
A terrifying jolt shuddered through the entire car. The emergency lights instantly extinguished, replaced by the harsh, flickering overhead fluorescent. The deep, mechanical groan of the cables returned, and we began our descent, moving fast toward the basement dispatch level.
"We have three seconds," he muttered, his eyes raking over my face, searching for any sign of mascara smears or flushed skin.
I pushed off the cool wall, trying to appear nonchalant, my body still singing with tremors. I ran trembling fingers through my hair and adjusted the collar of my kameez. The air felt thin, electric, filled with the terrifying anticipation of the doors opening.
The car CLANGED to a stop. The light above the door flashed green. We were there.
Ranjeet didn't look at me again. He simply retrieved the heavy box of schematics from the corner, his expression instantly returning to the distant, professional mask of the office tyrant.
The heavy metal doors groaned open onto the dimly lit, cavernous space of the basement dispatch area. It was, thankfully, deserted.
He walked out, the heavy box balanced easily in his arms, his posture radiating cool, powerful authority. He tossed one low, final word back over his shoulder, a private, possessive command that only I could hear.
"Wait."
I stood frozen in the center of the freight lift car, the silence deafening now that he was gone. The open doors gaped onto the echoing concrete floor of the basement, and the cool air, thick with the smell of old cardboard and machine oil, felt like a slap against my burning skin. My body was still humming, my thighs slick and sticky, and the sheer audacity of what had just happened left me dizzy. I couldn't move. I needed to breathe, to realign the chaos in my brain.
But his command echoed in my head: Wait. I knew what he meant. I couldn't just walk out of the basement or go directly back up to the fifth floor in this service lift; the lift's movements would be tracked, and returning right after him would scream of collusion.
With a final, shaky breath, I focused on the panel. My fingers, still tingling, reached out and stabbed the button marked '1'-the First Floor. The idea was simple: descend, break the timeline, and then re-enter the main building flow.
The doors groaned shut. The elevator car shuddered violently before it began its slow, heavy ascent. During the agonizing, short trip, I adjusted my salwar tie one more time, smoothing the invisible wrinkles in my kameez and dragging my palms across my face, willing the flush to dissipate.
The car stopped with another CLANG. The doors hissed open, revealing the bright, sterile marble floor of the First Floor lobby-a high-traffic area, exactly what I needed.
I stepped out, trying to adopt a casual, purposeful stride. Every muscle in my body felt tight and strained, and I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, pretending I hadn't just been ravished against a metal wall. I walked quickly past the security desk, avoiding eye contact, and made my way to the gleaming, chrome bank of main passenger elevators.
I waited impatiently, my pulse still racing, until a clean, brightly lit car arrived. I stepped inside with two other anonymous, briefcase-carrying individuals, grateful for the neutral presence of witnesses. I pressed the button for the fifth floor, feeling the smooth, silent acceleration of the passenger lift-a world away from the rattling, vibrating metal box we had just desecrated.
Leaning against the polished steel wall of the main lift, hidden behind the polite crowd, I finally allowed myself a small, secretive smile. The torture of the afternoon was over, replaced by a lingering, exquisite soreness that promised trouble. I had two floors to climb before I had to face the professional Ranjeet again.
Around four o’clock, the pressure hit its breaking point. A demand came from the client for immediate physical copies of the finalized project schematics, to be sent out with the evening courier. Ranjeet strode out of his cabin, his face set like stone, and stacked a heavy box with the thick, bound documents.
He walked past my cubicle, not stopping, but leaned in close as if to inspect my screen. The scent of his sandalwood cologne and something deeper-pure, masculine sweat-enveloped me. “I’m taking these down to the basement dispatch,” he murmured, his voice a low, private rumble meant only for me. He straightened up, and his eyes met mine for a fraction of a second. The look was an unspoken command, a raw plea, a dangerous promise. “Freight elevator. Give me two minutes.”
And then he was gone, his purposeful stride carrying him and the box out of the main office area.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage. Two minutes. The words echoed in the sudden silence of my mind. I stared at my screen, but the screen blurred into a meaningless jumble. Every second stretched into an eternity. I could feel the blood pulsing in my veins, a rhythm of fear and intoxicating excitement.
One minute passed. I took a slow sip of water, my hand trembling almost imperceptibly. I scanned the office from the corner of my eye. Everyone was engrossed, their faces illuminated by the glow of their monitors, racing against the deadline. No one was watching me. It was now or never.
After what felt like a lifetime, I pushed my chair back, stood, and smoothed down my kameez. With a steadying breath, I walked not towards the main exit, but towards the less-trafficked service corridor, my heels clicking softly on the tiled floor.
He was there, leaning against the cool wall beside the freight elevator, the heavy box of files at his feet. The relief that washed over his face when he saw me was immediate and profound, quickly replaced by the familiar, dark fire of desire. He didn't speak. He just pushed the call button.
The heavy metal doors groaned open, revealing the dim, scuffed-up car. We stepped inside. The second the doors began to grind shut, sealing us in, the air became thick with unspoken words and pent-up energy.
The moment the lock engaged, Ranjeet dropped the box. It hit the floor with a heavy, definitive thud that echoed in the sudden silence. He lunged for the control panel and slammed his palm against the large, red emergency stop button.
The elevator car jerked violently, throwing me off balance and into his chest. Then, everything went still. We were suspended, trapped between floors, the hum of the building a distant memory.
“Ranjeet…” I breathed, but the word was swallowed as he sealed my mouth with his lips.
His kiss was a brutal, starving claiming. He tasted of coffee and a week of pure, male frustration. His hand tangled in my hair, gripping the back of my head to hold me steady as his tongue drove into my mouth, an invasion I met with equal, desperate force. I whimpered into his mouth, the sound stolen by his fervent kiss.
He spun me around with a sudden, forceful twist of his hands on my shoulders, my body whirling in the confined elevator like a leaf caught in a storm. I gasped, caught off guard-I’d expected nothing more than a stolen kiss, a heated embrace to tide us over until later, but this was unexpected, urgent.
My front body was slammed against the cool, vibrating metal wall and the shock of the cold surface seeping through my kameez was like ice water. It made my nipples harden instantly against the purple lace bra. My breasts were pressed flat against the unyielding steel. My stomach was flattened against the wall. Its chill was biting into my flushed skin and my cheek grazed the metal. Its faint metallic tang filled my nostrils.
My hands shot out to brace myself with my palms slapping against the wall on either side of my head as I tried to steady myself.
“Ranjeet, wait—” I murmured but it was vague and unheard. I was surprised by the sudden action. I was concerned what would happen if someone caught us but Ranjeet was not in the mood of listening.
I pushed back with my hips, trying to break free
“Ranjeet….not here…what if……”
“Don’t worry darling…..it’s a service lift…..no one give a fuck about it…my love…” Was his reply.
His hands were everywhere, commanding and possessive: one gripped my waist firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above my salwar, holding me in place with overwhelming strength. His other hand moved to my front and felt my breasts from over the kameez.
He trapped me completely with the hard length of his body, his chest a solid wall against my back and his thighs pinned mine. His hard dick pressed insistently against the curve of my soft ass. It was thick and unyielding through the layers of his jeans and my salwar and throbbing with a relentless rhythm that matched my racing pulse. It felt like a brand, hot and rigid, grinding against me with deliberate pressure, the sheer size of him making my breath hitch, a reminder of the power he held back, now unleashed in this confined space.
“I’m fucking done waiting, my love,” he snarled against my throat. His voice was thick with a week of pent-up agony and his hot breath fanning over my skin as his lips brushed my earlobe. The words were a dark vow, laced with frustration and raw need. Despite my vague resistance, my body betrayed me.I was no more resisting, instead waiting for the beautiful and lovely onslaught.
His left hand was wrapped around my waist, palm splaying flat against my belly, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of my kameez to anchor me tighter against him.His right hand slid lower and he frantically bunched up the hem of my kameez from behind, gathering the fabric higher and higher in his fist, exposing the curve of my lower back, the dip of my spine, and the tops of my hips to the cool air. His touch was urgent, rough, the material bunching in his grip until it was hiked up to my mid-back, leaving my ass vulnerable to the press of his body.
Then his right hand dropped to the knot of my salwar, fingers hooking into the drawstring with impatient precision. He tugged the knot sharply and it opened with a soft pop, waistband of salwar loosening instantly around my hips. The salwar sagged. He plunged lower, grabbing the waistband of both my salwar and the lace panties beneath in one frantic motion. With a desperate, forceful yank, he dragged them down together, the fabrics sliding over my hips in a tangled rush, exposing my bare ass and the slick, swollen lips of my pussy to the cool air.
Before I could process what just happened, his right hand threaded roughly through my thick mass of hair, fingers tangling at the nape, pulling my head back with just enough force to arch my spine. My throat exposed, my lips parted in a gasp, he twisted my head to the side and captured my mouth in a passionate kiss. His lips crushed mine, hot and demanding, his tongue thrusting deep without preamble, invading with the same urgency that pulsed through his body. He tasted of coffee and raw hunger, his stubble scbanging my cheek as he devoured me, swallowing my soft moans like it was fuel for his fire. My tongue tangled with his in desperate retaliation, the kiss turning wet and filthy, our breaths mingling in harsh pants against the metal wall.
While his mouth plundered mine, his left hand stayed firm on my belly, holding me steady as his hips ground forward, his rock-hard cock-still trapped in his jeans-nestling insistently between the cheeks of my bare ass, the thick ridge throbbing through the denim against my naked skin. The pressure was obscene, deliberate, making my exposed pussy clench emptily with every teasing grind. But he wasn't done. With his right hand still fisted in my hair, tilting my head for better access to my mouth, he fumbled at his zipper with awkward, frantic urgency, the metallic rasp of his zipper slicing through the air like a blade, the sound sharp and shocking in the confined space.
I felt the shift as he reached into his trousers, his hand brushing against my bare ass as he freed his cock, the heavy, heated weight of it springing out, thick and veined, slapping hotly against the curve of my exposed ass. It was massive, the blunt head already leaking precum, smearing a warm, sticky trail on my ass as he kicked his jeans down just enough to give himself room. My breath hitched in the kiss, surprise flaring again-this was too fast, too real-but the feel of him, bare and pulsing against me, drowned it out, my body arching back instinctively, craving the stretch despite the haze of shock.
From his pocket, he fished out a condom packet with a crinkle of foil, his right hand releasing my hair just long enough to tear it open with his teeth, the sharp rip cutting through our heavy breaths. He spat the wrapper aside, and in one fluid, desperate motion, rolled the latex down his throbbing length, the thin sheath doing little to hide the girth or the way it strained, shiny and ready, veins bulging under the surface. "Fuck, you're mine," he murmured against my lips, breaking the kiss for a split second, his voice wrecked with need, before diving back in, his tongue fucking my mouth in time with the subtle roll of his hips.
He didn't give me time to process; his left hand on my belly slid lower, pressing against my mound to hold me steady, while his right hand guided his sheathed cock to my entrance, the blunt tip parting my slick pussy with ease, teasing the throbbing heat of my pussy. "Spread wider," he growled into the kiss, his voice a shattered command, and I complied, shifting my feet apart on the scuffed floor, my body arching back in silent invitation.
With a primal thrust that stole my breath, he buried himself inside me from behind, the massive girth splitting my pussy open, filling me so completely that my scream tore from my throat, muffled against his mouth as my walls clamped down around his length, stretched to the point of exquisite agony. The condom's barrier was a mere whisper, letting me feel every vein, every pulse of him as he bottomed out, his balls pressing heavy against my thighs, his hips flush to my bare ass. The stretch burned, my pussy fluttering around him in shock and ecstasy, juices flooding down my legs as he held still for a heartbeat, savoring the tight, wet grip.
Then he moved-his hips snapping back and driving in again, hard and deep, setting a punishing rhythm that slammed my body against the vibrating metal. Each thrust pinned me firmer to the wall, my breasts dragging against the steel, nipples aching from the friction, while his left hand on my belly held me steady, fingers splaying wider to feel the bulge of his cock moving inside me through the kameez. His right hand returned to my hair, pulling just enough to arch me perfectly for his assault, his mouth latching onto the side of my neck, sucking a bruising mark as he fucked me relentlessly. The wet, obscene slap of his hips against my bare ass filled the car, mingling with my broken moans and his guttural groans, the risk of the office floors away only heightening the fire.
"Fuck Nabila….I so needed it…this tight pussy," he groaned, his voice frayed with need, his thrusts erratic now, deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made my knees buckle. The condom strained with every plunge, the latex slick with my arousal, his cock throbbing as he chased his release. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, my pussy spasming violently around his length, milking the sheathed cock as I sobbed his name, my body convulsing, juices flooding down my thighs.
He followed with a roar, his hips stuttering as he drove deep one last time, filling the condom with his hot, thick cum, the latex ballooning with his release, his body shuddering against mine in waves of raw ecstasy. We stayed locked like that, trembling, his forehead pressed to my shoulder, breaths ragged and synced. Slowly, he pulled out, the slick sound obscene, leaving me empty and aching.
The sudden emptiness was almost as shocking as the insertion, replaced instantly by the awareness of the cool, clammy air on my thoroughly wet, bare skin. He let go of my waist, and I immediately twisted away from the cool wall, turning to face him, my lower half naked, the fabrics bunched at my ankles. My legs felt like useless rubber beneath me, trembling from the double assault of the climax and the awkward position.
He didn't waste a second. His right hand instantly found the base of the condom, fingers pinching the edge of the latex. I heard a muffled, wet slurp as he peeled the slick, heavy sheath from his now-softening dick. He swiftly tied a tight knot at the opening of the ballooning condom, crushing the whole, warm mass into his palm.
"Jeez," I breathed out, my voice shaky, the reality of the mess and the location hitting me hard.
He didn't look at me, his eyes focused on the evidence in his hand as he carefully inserted the glistening, semen-filled knot back into the torn foil wrapper. He then slid the mess deep into his trousers pocket.
"What jeez….," he murmured, his gaze finally meeting mine, a possessive, dangerous glint in his eyes. "Don't tell me you want anyone to find this... or find out?"
"No," I whispered instantly, my eyes wide with panic. The very idea was paralyzing.
"Good. Then let's clean up," he said, the command cutting through the lingering passion.
Simultaneously, we moved to retrieve our composure. He swiftly tucked his heavy, semi-soft cock back into his trousers. I heard the rapid, metallic rasp of his zipper being aggressively yanked up-a deafening, frantic shing that sliced through the quiet cabin of lift, instantly trapping the rest of him in the rough denim. At the same moment, I frantically gripped the wet, tangled mass of my salwar and panties bunched around my ankles. With a staggering effort, I hauled the cold fabrics up over my hips.
My panties were twisted and my salwar was crooked.I tied the knot of my salwar in hurry and smoothed the Kameez down over my waist and hips, concealing the chaos beneath. The brief, brutal interlude was now invisible to the world.
He didn't wait for me to recover. He took a single, decisive step away from me, giving himself just enough room to reach the control panel. He slammed his palm against the emergency button, releasing the brake.
A terrifying jolt shuddered through the entire car. The emergency lights instantly extinguished, replaced by the harsh, flickering overhead fluorescent. The deep, mechanical groan of the cables returned, and we began our descent, moving fast toward the basement dispatch level.
"We have three seconds," he muttered, his eyes raking over my face, searching for any sign of mascara smears or flushed skin.
I pushed off the cool wall, trying to appear nonchalant, my body still singing with tremors. I ran trembling fingers through my hair and adjusted the collar of my kameez. The air felt thin, electric, filled with the terrifying anticipation of the doors opening.
The car CLANGED to a stop. The light above the door flashed green. We were there.
Ranjeet didn't look at me again. He simply retrieved the heavy box of schematics from the corner, his expression instantly returning to the distant, professional mask of the office tyrant.
The heavy metal doors groaned open onto the dimly lit, cavernous space of the basement dispatch area. It was, thankfully, deserted.
He walked out, the heavy box balanced easily in his arms, his posture radiating cool, powerful authority. He tossed one low, final word back over his shoulder, a private, possessive command that only I could hear.
"Wait."
I stood frozen in the center of the freight lift car, the silence deafening now that he was gone. The open doors gaped onto the echoing concrete floor of the basement, and the cool air, thick with the smell of old cardboard and machine oil, felt like a slap against my burning skin. My body was still humming, my thighs slick and sticky, and the sheer audacity of what had just happened left me dizzy. I couldn't move. I needed to breathe, to realign the chaos in my brain.
But his command echoed in my head: Wait. I knew what he meant. I couldn't just walk out of the basement or go directly back up to the fifth floor in this service lift; the lift's movements would be tracked, and returning right after him would scream of collusion.
With a final, shaky breath, I focused on the panel. My fingers, still tingling, reached out and stabbed the button marked '1'-the First Floor. The idea was simple: descend, break the timeline, and then re-enter the main building flow.
The doors groaned shut. The elevator car shuddered violently before it began its slow, heavy ascent. During the agonizing, short trip, I adjusted my salwar tie one more time, smoothing the invisible wrinkles in my kameez and dragging my palms across my face, willing the flush to dissipate.
The car stopped with another CLANG. The doors hissed open, revealing the bright, sterile marble floor of the First Floor lobby-a high-traffic area, exactly what I needed.
I stepped out, trying to adopt a casual, purposeful stride. Every muscle in my body felt tight and strained, and I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, pretending I hadn't just been ravished against a metal wall. I walked quickly past the security desk, avoiding eye contact, and made my way to the gleaming, chrome bank of main passenger elevators.
I waited impatiently, my pulse still racing, until a clean, brightly lit car arrived. I stepped inside with two other anonymous, briefcase-carrying individuals, grateful for the neutral presence of witnesses. I pressed the button for the fifth floor, feeling the smooth, silent acceleration of the passenger lift-a world away from the rattling, vibrating metal box we had just desecrated.
Leaning against the polished steel wall of the main lift, hidden behind the polite crowd, I finally allowed myself a small, secretive smile. The torture of the afternoon was over, replaced by a lingering, exquisite soreness that promised trouble. I had two floors to climb before I had to face the professional Ranjeet again.
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