Field Of Schemes #04

Jordan walked into Darryl’s office and shut the door behind her. He was already behind his desk, leaning back, shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled. She set her bag down and waited. He watched her hips the whole way across the room. “We’ve talked enough about your drills,” he said. “Now comes the real test.” She met his eyes. He smiled like he’d already won something. “To get on the squad, you’ll have to fuck someone. That someone is me.” He stood, moved around the desk, stopped close enough she could smell his cologne and the faint heat on his skin. His hand came up, traced the strap of her bra under her shirt without quite touching. He didn’t ask if she understood. He simply waited. Jordan’s pulse jumped, but she held his gaze. The corner of his mouth ticked up at her silence. “You strip here,” he said. “I’ll lock the door. Then we see how well you can take direction.” She reached for the hem of her shirt. The fabric slid over her head, dropped to the carpet. Darryl let his eyes travel over the thin lace hugging her breasts, nipples already tight against the cups. “Keep going,” he said. His voice dropped a register. “Everything off. Fold it neat. Then come to me.” She slid the jeans down her thighs, the underwear with them, and stepped out. Cool air kissed her bare skin. She folded the clothes, placed them on the chair. When she straightened he was already behind her, the sound of his belt unbuckling soft and deliberate. He pressed her forward until her palms braced on the desk. The polished wood felt smooth under her fingers. He stepped in, his hard cock bare against the top of her ass. One hand gathered her hair; the other spread her open, thumb sliding through the wet he’d already coaxed out of her. “You stay quiet unless I tell you to make noise,” he murmured against her neck. “Understood?” She nodded once. He drove inside her in one clean thrust. She bit her lip to keep the sound down. He fucked her with measured strokes—slow at first, then sharper, deeper—each time bottoming out so the impact nudged her forward on the desk. The slap of skin filled the quiet office. Darryl reached around, found her clit, rubbed it in tight circles while he buried himself to the hilt. Jordan’s legs trembled. Sweat gathered at the small of her back. He slowed, teasing now, letting her feel every inch before he picked up pace again. “Eyes on me,” he ordered. She turned her head. Their gazes locked. He smiled, barely, then slammed harder, pushing her over the edge. Her orgasm hit sharp and sudden; her pussy clamped around him in pulsing waves. Darryl groaned, low, and followed, filling her with hot, thick release that spilled down her thighs when he finally pulled out. He handed her a tissue. She straightened, legs unsteady, and wiped herself while he watched. He zipped up, tossed the keys onto the desk. “Come back tomorrow at the same time,” he said. “Same outfit. Different rules.” Jordan pulled her clothes back on, heart still hammering. As she left the office, she could feel his spend still warm inside her.