colleen

The wooden latch of the dressing room door fell with a sharp, definitive click, isolating the tiny cubicle from the rest of the high-end boutique. Outside, the soft ambient piano music and the distant echo of the employees' footsteps on the marble floor only heightened the dead silence inside the fitting room.

Sabrina stood with her back to you, wrapped in a dark silk dress so tight it looked molded to her skin. The design left the delicate line of her spine bare, interrupted only by a golden zipper that had stopped halfway up.

"Hey, I need some help with a zipper in the back, I can't reach it" she said in that innocent voice, dragging out her words with a feigned sweetness you already knew all too well.

You took a step forward, reaching out your hands to slide the metal pull up, but before your fingers could even brush the silk, Sabrina turned around with deliberate slowness.

Her blue eyes gleamed, caught in the reflection of the massive mirror covering the back wall.

Instead of giving you space, she stepped forward, cornering you.

She forced you backward until your spine was just inches away from the glass, trapped between the chill of the mirror and the unbearable heat radiating from her body.

"Sabrina, not here, baby, please..." you whispered, feeling the air escape your lungs.

Your natural shyness flared up instantly, flushing your cheeks a bright pink. You knew how risky this was; the heavy curtain and the wooden door were the only things separating you from the empty store.

Sabrina let out a low chuckle, a vibration you felt right against your chest. She leaned into you, brushing her lips against your ear.

"Shh... What's the rush, sweetheart? You know exactly how much I love it when we could be overheard" she whispered, her warm breath making you shudder.

Instead of a quick, chaotic encounter, Sabrina decided the punishment would be slow, precise, and agonizing. With an overwhelming confidence that completely contrasted with her petite height, she brought one of her hands up to the back of your neck.

She slid her fingers through your hair, gripping it firmly—a gentle but unyielding tug that forced your head back. Her goal was clear: to keep your face tilted up, forcing you to stare directly into the mirror while her lips went down to devour the skin of your neck.

Your hands, searching for an anchor against the weakness in your knees, went straight to her tiny waist. The size difference between the two of you was obvious, but in this cramped space, Sabrina completely dominated her surroundings.

Your eyes met hers in the reflection; she was staring at you with shameless intensity, studying every twitch of your face as she bit along your jawline.

The pace grew urgent because time was running against them, but Sabrina wouldn't yield control. She pushed you firmly, pinning your body against the mirror. The contrast of the freezing glass against your burning back made you gasp.

Instantly, Sabrina’s free hand shot up to your face, covering your mouth with her palm to stifle any sound, reminding you with a look that anyone outside could catch the slightest echo.

You were submissive by nature, and the consensual yet strict way she handled you completely disarmed you, but the built-up tension made you want to play your own cards.

Sliding underneath her grip in one fluid motion, you dropped to your knees on the plush dressing room carpet.

Sabrina looked down, surprised, but her crooked smile returned even stronger at the sight of your submission.

Without touching bare skin yet, you pressed your face against the crotch of her silk dress. You began to rub against her slowly, moving aside the short fabric covering her thighs, sliding your nose and lips over the fabric of her damp panties, licking the material right where her heat was concentrated.

A trapped gasp escaped Sabrina’s throat, and her nails dug into your shoulders.

Before you could keep sabotaging her endurance, Sabrina grabbed you by the arms and, with an unbelievable strength for her size, hauled you off the floor in one single yank, forcing you to stand in front of the mirror once again.

Her breathing was a bit faster now, her eyes darkened with desire.

"Such a bad girl..." she muttered in a filthy whisper, slipping her hand under your clothes with ruthless precision.

When her fingers, already prepared, made direct contact with you, you had to bite your bottom lip until it nearly bled. Sabrina’s fingering was rhythmic, tortuously slow at first, and then devastatingly deep. She knew exactly which buttons to push to make you lose your mind.

Your eyes drifted to the reflection of your own body. Because of the position and the way Sabrina was pinning you against the glass, your large breasts were accentuated, bouncing heavily with your shallow, ragged breaths.

Sabrina noticed your gaze in the mirror, and a spark of pure possessiveness crossed her eyes. She brought her free hand down to squeeze one of your breasts, revelling in the texture.

"God, you drive me crazy..." she murmured against your ear, her voice husky and heavy with thick lust. "You have no idea what I’d give to see your tits bouncing on me right now, my love. Look at how worked up you get just hearing it. You're gonna lose the game, I know it."

"Sabrina... please," you begged in a thin thread of a voice, breaking your own resistance. Tears of frustration and absolute pleasure welled up in your eyes.

You tried to suppress too many whimpers, but the movements of her fingers inside you grew faster, relentless, pushing you over the edge.

The scene reached its absolute peak. Both of you were completely on the brink; breath held, bodies slick with sweat, and skin burning against the cold surface of the fitting room.

The game was no longer just about who could last longer, but who could make the other beg for the end first. Sabrina gritted her teeth, keeping up the frantic pace of her hand while pressing herself against you, trembling too, seeking your mouth to drown out her own noises in a wet, hungry kiss just as your body collapsed into a violent orgasm that made you shake from head to toe.

The orgasm shattered you with such sudden violence that the last wall of your endurance completely crumbled. A sharp, broken moan loaded with a sweet desperation escaped your throat, echoing loudly against the glass of the mirror.

You had lost. But before the echo of your surrender could drift past the wooden dressing room door, Sabrina’s palm slapped over your mouth, smothering the sound right against your lips.

With her fingers still buried deep inside your intimacy, feeling the rhythmic, uncontrollable contractions of your climax, Sabrina smiled.

A pure, dark satisfaction flared in her blue eyes, sending shivers down your spine. She held you tightly, crushing your body against the freezing mirror while catching your sobs under her hand, moving her fingers in one last, agonizingly slow goodbye caress that stretched out the intensity of your orgasm until the final tremor subsided.

She leaned into your ear, her own breathing a little heavier than usual, though her voice was already regaining that dangerously controlled tone.

"You sound delicious, baby" she whispered, dragging out her words in that signature way of hers that made you shudder. "But those little beautiful noises are for my ears only. Don't you forget it."

With an agonizing slowness, Sabrina withdrew her hand from under your clothes. She forced you to hold her gaze in the reflection as she brought her wet fingers up to her lips.

Without breaking eye contact with your wide, startled eyes, she slid her tongue over them, licking the warmth of your own fluid off her fingers with shameless slowness, tasting you completely.

You barely had time to process the intensity of the gesture before the atmosphere shifted instantly. Sabrina took a step back, breaking physical contact and regaining the composure of a pop star in the blink of an eye.

She walked over to the mirror, using her fingers to neatly adjust the blonde strands of her hair, and pulled a lipstick out of her bag, touching herself up with an astounding calmness, as if she had just been trying on clothes.

She turned back to you, who were still leaning against the cold glass trying to catch your breath and find your balance on trembling knees. She leaned in and gave you a quick, incredibly soft kiss on the lips—a tender, almost innocent contrast designed to soothe the frantic racing of your heart.

"You look beautiful when you lose," she winked at you with an angelic smile, before her expression turned deliciously authoritative. "Now, button those pants up. You need to get out of here.”

She turned the latch with a clean click and stepped out into the boutique with total naturalness, greeting the employees as if nothing had happened.

The constant hum of the fluorescent lights on the 14th floor was the soundtrack to their cold war.

To the entire marketing department, you two were like oil and water. An unstoppable force colliding with an immovable object. If Billie Eilish proposed a minimalist, analytical campaign, you presented a maximalist, emotion-driven proposal.

If Billie tried to arrive five minutes early to a meeting, you were already seated, coffee in hand, wearing a smug smile that you knew perfectly well roused her.

You detested each other. Or so you told your colleagues in HR when they asked why the atmosphere felt so tense whenever you shared a room.

The reality was much darker, wetter, and more exhausting.

You couldn't concentrate. You stared at your computer screen, but your eyes inevitably drifted to the glass office in the background. Billie sat with the sleeves of her white dress shirt rolled up to her forearms.

Her tie was slightly loose, and her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun. She had that damn superior expression as she read a report.

She was a damn nuisance. A beautiful nuisance, tall, with broad shoulders and a presence that filled the room. The way she walked down the hall like she owned the place, and the way she looked at you.

God, the way she looked at you.

Right then, as if sensing the weight of your thoughts, Billie looked up. Her icy-blue eyes locked onto yours through the glass.

She didn't blink. Instead, she leaned back in her leather chair, her gaze slowly tracing the silhouette of your body trapped in that black pencil skirt and the silk blouse that accentuated your cleavage.

You shifted in your chair, feeling an instant jolt of heat between your legs. Damn it.

Ten minutes later, you were in the copy room, furiously organizing some files, trying to get her damn image out of your head. The sound of the door closing behind you sent shivers down the spine. You knew who it was before you even turned around.

“Tech problems, sweetheart?” Billie’s voice was a low, husky murmur, laced with that teasing tone you hated so much… the one that made your underwear wet.

You turned, crossing your arms over your chest. “Nothing I can’t handle, O’Connell. Though I’m guessing you’re here to check if you did your job properly, since the metrics report you sent this morning had three formatting errors.”

Billie approached slowly. Each step seemed to deplete the oxygen in the room.

She stopped just inches from you, close enough for you to catch a whiff of her perfume: a blend of sandalwood, sweet tobacco, and something uniquely hers, pure musk.

She leaned against the photocopier table, effectively trapping you between her body and the machine. Her eyes immediately dropped to your lips.

She traced them with her gaze, lingering on the way you unconsciously moistened them. Then, her gaze lower still, brazenly settling on the curve of your hips, widened by the tension of your skirt.

"Oh, really?" She murmured, leaning forward slightly. Her voice dropped an octave. "How curious that you notice so many details about me. I, on the other hand, can only notice how you bite your lip every time I disagree with you in meetings. Do I frustrate you that much, my love?"

"You're an egomaniac," you spat, though your breathing had already become erratic. Your eyes shifted for a second to the noticeable bulge subtly visible in the front of her tailored trousers.

Billie noticed your direction and a smug smile curved her lips.

"Look me in the eyes when you insult me," she taunted, reaching out to trace the edge of your jaw with a single finger. Her touch burned. "Keep pretending you hate me. We both love it."

She turned and left the copy room, leaving you trembling, your heart pounding in your throat, and an unbearable dampness between your thighs.

(21:30 PM)

The 14th floor was completely deserted. The main lights had automatically turned off at nine, leaving only the desk lamps in the cubicles and the New York City lights filtering through the enormous windows.

It was a stupid competition. Neither of them wanted to leave first. Leaving the office meant admitting defeat, accepting that the other was working harder for the new client presentation the next day.

Your eyes burned. You stretched in your chair, letting out a frustrated groan as you closed your laptop. Enough was enough.

You stood up, straightening your skirt, and walked toward Billie's office to tell her to go to hell, that you would win tomorrow anyway.

The door was ajar. Pushing it open, you saw Billie standing by the window, a glass of whiskey in her hand.

She had taken off her jacket. And the first two buttons of her shirt were undone, revealing the base of her neck and a glimpse of pale skin.

“Giving up that easily?” Billie asked without turning around, her reflection shimmering in the glass that faced the city.

“Not at all. But unlike you, I actually have a life to go back to,” you lied, stepping inside and slamming the door behind you.

The click of the latch engaging carried a dangerous purpose.

Billie turned slowly. She placed the glass on the fine wood desk and walked toward you. The polite distance of the day was gone.

There was a heaviness in the air, an accumulation of months of heavy glances, double entendres, and nighttime fantasies that had finally reached their boiling point.

“A life?” Billie stopped a step away from you. Her blue eyes were dark, her pupils so dilated they were almost colorless. “I don’t think so. I think you stayed because you can't stand the thought of being alone in your bed, thinking about what I'd do to you if I had you pinned against this desk.”

The insult, the stark truth of her words, snapped you out of it. You shoved her in the chest with both hands.

"Shut up! You're literally my biggest headache. Fuck off. I hate the way you look at me, I hate the way you talk in meetings, and I hate that you think you have any kind of control over me..."

Billie didn't even flinch at your shove. Instead, she grabbed both your wrists with one hand, holding them with an iron grip, and pushed you back until your back hit the heavy wooden door of her office.

Your bodies collided. The heat radiating from her was scorching.

You could feel the unmistakable hardness of her anatomy pressing directly against your pelvis, separated only by the layers of her tailored suit and your skirt. You realized, with a lurch in your heart, that Billie was already completely hard.

"Liar," Billie whispered, her face just inches from yours. Her breath tasted of whiskey and mint. "You're soaking wet for me right now. I can smell it from here."

You squirmed in her grip, but the movement only made you rub your intimacy against her erection.

A muffled moan escaped your lips, completely betraying you. Billie let out a low, husky laugh that sent shivers down your spine.

She raised your clasped hands above your head, pinning them against the door. With her free hand, she took your chin, forcing you to look at her.

Her eyes shone with a predatory intensity, but also with a possessiveness that melted you from the inside out. You knew you were needy, dying for every ounce of her attention, and she knew it perfectly well.

“You’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” Billie mocked, her lips brushing against yours, not quite kissing you, torturing you. “You love it when I treat you badly in front of the executives, don’t you? It turns you on so much to think about what this ‘egomaniac’ can do to you.”

“Billie… please,” you begged, rocking your hips against her. Pride didn’t matter anymore. You wanted her to break this damn tension that had been driving you crazy for months.

“Why are you begging, baby?” Billie lowered her hand from your chin to your neck, squeezing it lightly, just enough to make you gasp. “We’re supposed to hate each other, remember?”

“Fuck that,” you whimpered, tilting your head back. “Touch me. Please, Billie, fuck me. I can’t take it anymore.”

The plea in your voice seemed to sever Billie’s last remaining thread of control. She released your wrists only to close the distance in a violent, hungry kiss.

Her lips crashed against yours with a savage urgency. Her tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you, devouring you as you moaned directly into her throat, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling it closer.

Billie's hands slid down to the thighs of your skirt, roughly pulling the fabric up above your hips, tearing your nylon stockings in the process.

She didn't care. Her large, warm fingers sought the edge of your panties.

He pulled you aside and plunged directly into your intimacy.

You let out a muffled gasp against his lips. You were completely soaked, your juices dripping from your fingers as Billie thrust two of them deep inside you without warning.

"Damn, you're so fucking ready," Billie growled, pulling her fingers out to lick them right in front of your eyes, her gaze locked on you. "Come here."

She lifted you up as if you weighed nothing. You instinctively wrapped your legs around her waist as she carried you to her massive wooden desk. She swatted aside a stack of folders and his laptop, which crashed to the floor with a clatter that made you shudder.

"Billie... someone might hear... security comes by at ten," you gasped, gripped by panic and excitement at the risk of being caught.

"Let them hear." “Let them watch if they want,” Billie said, her eyes burning with desire. She sat you on the edge of the desk, spreading your legs wide.

Your eyes widened as you watched her unbuckle her leather belt and unzip her pants.

Her member sprang free, thick, heavy, and completely veiny, glistening with precum in the dim office light.

It was an impressive piece of meat that made you swallow hard.

Before you could process it, Billie grabbed your hair tightly but gently, pulling you down.

“Put that mouth to work, baby. Show me how much you hate me,” she ordered, a mocking smile on her face.

You didn’t hesitate. You slid off the desk until you were on your knees in front of her.

Your trembling hands cupped the base of his cock, feeling the latent heat emanating from it. You opened your mouth and licked it from base to tip, hearing the first real, rough moan escape Billie's throat.

You took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking hard.

Billie tightened her grip on your hair and thrust her hips forward, gripping the back of your neck. She began to fuck your mouth, dictating a merciless rhythm.

Your throat closed, your eyes watered from the depth of her grip, but the sound of his flesh hitting your lips and the smell of his arousal drove you wild.

"That's it, take it all," Billie cursed, her ragged breathing echoing off the high office ceiling. "Damn, you're so good at sucking cock. Is that how you get your promotions?"

She groaned loudly as you used your hands to massage his balls while your mouth continued working his length.

Billie yanked your hair back, forcing you to release her with a wet sound. Strands of saliva and precum connected his member to your glistening lips. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, looking at him with pure need and rage.

"Enough," Billie said, her voice cracking. "If you keep this up, I'm going to come in your throat and I'm not even finished with you yet."

She yanked you to your feet and pushed you back onto the desk.

She dragged you to the edge, lifting your legs and resting them on her shoulders. The position left you completely exposed, open and vulnerable under the harsh light of the desk lamp.

Billie didn't go straight for penetration. She leaned down and buried her face directly in your exposed pussy.

The impact of her hot, expert tongue against your clit made you arch your back, screaming his name.

Billie licked you with long, firm strokes, using her fingers to open you wider, devouring you like it was his last supper.

“You eat me so well, I hate you so much,” you sobbed, burying your hands in her hair, pushing her face harder against your wetness.

You hated how much you needed her, hated that she knew exactly how to drive you crazy. “Fuck, Billie… bite it, please, you’re going to drive me wild.”

The contrast between her harsh words and the fucking devoted way she was licking you was completely disarming you. You were trembling, on the verge of collapse.

“Billie! I’m going to… I’m going to come, I can’t take it anymore!” you shrieked, covering your mouth with your forearm, remembering the risk of the night guard being nearby.

Billie lifted her head, your inner thighs covered in your own fluids and her saliva.

She smiled, her gaze pure malice and adoration.

“Don’t come yet, baby. I want you to feel this.”

She positioned herself. The tip of her thick member grazed your swollen, throbbing vaginal lips.

Billie stared into your eyes, stopping time.

"You wanted my cock so bad, huh?" she whispered, and with a slow, massive, and devastating thrust, she sank deep inside you.

The scream that escaped your throat was smothered by Billie's hand, which quickly covered your mouth.

Your eyes widened as the walls of your cunt stretched to their limit to accommodate her thickness.

She was so fucking big, so hot inside you, that you felt like she was splitting you in two in the best possible way.

"Fuck, you're so big, Billie..." you moaned against her palm, tears of pleasure streaming down your face as you tried to take in her size. You could feel every vein throbbing against your inner walls. "You're going to break me... God, please..."

"Shh... quiet, baby. Remember, we're in the office," Billie teased in your ear, but her body trembled from the effort of not losing control. The tightness of your insides was driving her wild. "Damn, you're so tight. I feel like you're going to squeeze me."

She started to move. At first, with slow, tortuous thrusts, burying herself deep inside you and pulling out almost completely before pushing in again.

Each time her pelvis collided with yours, the wet sound of fluids mingling echoed in the quiet office.

You tightened your legs around his shoulders, opening yourself completely and absorbing the brutal rhythm she was beginning to impose.

"Yeah, I'll take you well..." you replied, digging your nails into his biceps, challenging his gaze. "Fuck me harder, please."

"You look so good, baby," Billie growled, losing her mocking facade completely. The submission, the need, and the sudden boldness you displayed were igniting her to dangerous levels.

She changed her angle. She gripped your hips with her large hands, leaving red marks on your skin that you'd have to hide tomorrow, and began thrusting into you with brutal force.

The desk moved slightly with each impact. The remaining papers rattled. You could hear distant footsteps in the hallway, the squeak of the janitor's cleaning cart a few aisles away, but the danger only made your cunt clench tighter around his cock.

“Fuck, yes, contract that fucking pussy for me,” Billie demanded, picking up the pace. Her thrusts were relentless, hitting your cervix with a precision that made you see stars. “Yeah, take me so good, my pretty girl.”

You were completely out of it. Pleasure was a fire that consumed your entire body.

Billie quickly changed your position, turning you so that you were lying face down, stretched out on the desk. Your ass was raised, offering you completely to her.

Billie positioned herself behind you, grabbing your hair to keep your head up as you stared at your own blurry reflection in the office window. You could see Billie’s silhouette behind you, thrusting into you mercilessly, her shirt undone and her face focused on pure animal pleasure.

“Look at me,” Billie ordered, giving you a firm slap on your left buttock that left a pink mark. “Look how I'm fucking you on my desk. Tomorrow you're going to sit in that meeting and you're going to remember how my cock feels inside you every time you talk to me.”

"Yes! So good! Fuck Billie, I'm gonna cum!" you screamed, unable to control the volume. The orgasm hit you like a giant wave. Your walls began to spasm violently, sucking on his member with incredible force.

Your body's climax was the trigger for her. Billie let out a hoarse roar, burying herself so deep inside you that you felt her pelvic bone against your buttocks.

"I'm coming with you, baby. I'm going to cum inside you, do you want my babies?" She warned in a husky voice, with no intention of pulling out.

She pressed her body against your back and thrust as far as she could as her own release hit her.

You felt the intense throbbing of her member inside you as she released jet after jet of the hot semen directly into the depths of your womb.

The warmth of the liquid filling you completely made you let out a final moan of pure exhaustion and pleasure.

When the last throbs ceased, Billie slowly withdrew, letting out a heavy sigh that hit the back of your neck.

You collapsed slightly onto the wood, trembling, immediately feeling his heat begin to overflow and trickle down your thighs.

You made a move to reach for your torn panties on the floor, but Billie gently stopped you, placing a hand on your hip.

"Try not to throw it all away, baby," she murmured huskily, stroking the skin she had just assaulted. She leaned over you, her tone softening in a way that quickened your pulse for very different reasons. "I'll take care of all that tomorrow. Come here, I'll take you home…”

You turned slowly on the desk, looking at her through your damp eyelashes, your heart pounding at the drastic change in her tone. From merciless mockery to utter tenderness.

"Really?" you asked in a whisper, almost incredulous.

Billie let out a small laugh, a genuine, warm one, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'm better than a gentleman, sweetheart," she replied smugly, but her eyes overflowed with pure adoration.

She leaned in and captured your lips again. It wasn't the hungry kiss from before, but a deep, fiery one.

An incredibly intimate moment, sealing the promise that the distance between you had been broken forever.

The Next Day (9:00 AM)

The morning sun streamed brightly through the windows of the 14th floor. Freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and the murmur of the staff was palpable.

You were sitting at the large conference table, a folder in your hands.

You were having a little trouble maintaining your posture; you felt a slight ache between your thighs, and every time you shifted, you could feel the subtle, damp reminder of what Billie had left inside you the night before, slowly sliding down your underwear just as she had asked.

The door to the meeting room opened, and Billie walked in. She looked impeccable. She wore a new black suit, her hair was perfectly styled, and she had her usual expression of cool indifference.

She walked to the opposite side of the table and sat directly across from you.

The marketing director started talking about the campaign, but you didn't hear a word. You glanced at Billie. She looked up from her notes and fixed you with those blue eyes.