Help Tifa out

The door clicked shut behind Aerith, sealing the silence.

Tifa didn't move. She stood her ground, her feet planted shoulder-width apart in a fighter's stance. The loose white tank top slipped off one shoulder, revealing the strap of a black sports bra and the smooth, powerful slope of her deltoid.

She sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"You smell like electricity," she said, her voice low and husky. "And you smell like her."

"Jealous, Lockhart?" I asked, walking slowly toward the main desk, leaning my hip against it.

"Competitive," she corrected. She walked toward me, her bare feet silent on the metal floor. "Aerith is magic. She's soft. She needs... calibration."

She stopped right in front of me. She looked up, her dark red eyes burning with a mix of frustration and raw need.

"But I'm not soft, Ray. I don't need you to fix my code. I need you to fix this."

She grabbed my hand and pressed it flat against her stomach, just above the waistband of her black shorts. Her abs were hard, defined, trembling with pent-up energy.

"I've been patrolling for three days straight," she whispered. "I've punched through steel. I've kicked down walls. But I'm still... wired. I can't come down."

"You need an opponent," I said, curling my fingers, digging them into her obliques. "Someone who hits back."

"I need to be broken," she challenged, stepping between my legs. "Do you think you have the weight class for it?"

I didn't answer with words. I grabbed her by the back of her damp hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat, and crushed my mouth against hers.

It wasn't a kiss; it was a collision.

Tifa made a noise in her throat, a growl of approval. Her arms flew around my neck, her biceps bulging as she pulled me down, trying to dominate the kiss. Her tongue wrestled with mine, hot and aggressive. She tasted of mint toothpaste and pure aggression.

I wasn't having it. I slid my hands down her back, gripping her firm, muscular ass through the thin fabric of her shorts. I squeezed hard, lifting her off the floor.

Tifa gasped, breaking the kiss. "Heavy..."

I turned and slammed her down onto the metal desk.

Bang.

Paperwork flew everywhere. A mug of cold coffee rattled. Tifa didn't wince; she grinned. She lay back on the hard surface, spreading her legs instantly, inviting me into her guard.

"Don't hold back," she breathed, her chest heaving against the white tank top. "I'm not glass. I won't break."

"We'll see."

I didn't bother with undressing her carefully. I shoved her tank top up to her neck, bunching it there. Her breasts spilled out of the black sports bra, heavy and perfect, shimmering with a faint sheen of sweat from the humidity of the room.

I reached down and hooked my fingers into the waistband of her shorts and panties. I yanked them down in one motion, dragging them off one leg and leaving them tangled around her other ankle.

She was naked from the waist down, her powerful thighs spread wide on the cold metal desk.

I looked at her. Tifa was a masterpiece of kinetic beauty. Everything about her was tone and muscle, but between her legs, she was soft, pink, and incredibly wet. She was soaking the desk.

"You're leaking, fighter," I taunted, running a hand up her inner thigh.

"Shut up and hit it," she hissed, bucking her hips up.

I unbuckled my belt, freeing myself. Tifa’s eyes snapped to my cock. She licked her lips, her expression shifting from defiance to hunger.

"Finally," she whispered.

I grabbed her ankles and pushed her knees back toward her shoulders, folding her in half. She was flexible, her body yielding easily to the rough handling.

I lined up and drove into her.

Thud.

It was a violent entry. She was unexpectedly tight, incredibly strong internal muscles that clamped down on me instantly, but the sheer amount of wetness made the slide slick and fast.

"Fuck!" Tifa screamed, her head banging back against the metal surface. "Yes! Just like that!"

I didn't ease into a rhythm. I hammered her. I grabbed her hips, my fingers digging into her skin, bruising her, anchoring her to the desk as I thrust with everything I had.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the warehouse, mixing with the creak of the desk and Tifa’s loud, uninhibited moans.

"Is that heavy enough for you?" I roared, driving deep, grinding my pelvis against hers.

"Harder!" she begged, her nails digging into my forearms. "Use me! Break the desk!"

I leaned forward, covering her body with mine. I grabbed her breast, squeezing it roughly, my thumb grazing her hardened nipple. Tifa bit my shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark through my shirt.

She was fighting me for every inch of pleasure. She clamped her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my kidneys, trying to pull me deeper than physically possible. Her vaginal walls were milking me, spasming in rhythm with my thrusts.

"You're so strong," I grunted, impressed by the sheer power in her hips.

"I trained for this," she panted, her face flushed crimson, sweat dripping from her forehead. "I've been waiting... for a man who won't... shatter."

"I'm solid, Tifa. I'm not going anywhere."

I reached down between our grinding bodies and found her clitoris. It was swollen, prominent. I rubbed it hard.

Tifa screamed, her back arching off the desk.

"Don't stop!" she shrieked. "I'm close! I'm right there!"

I increased the pace. It was a sprint now. Brutal, animalistic pounding. I was using her body like a heavy bag, and she was absorbing every impact with a **** joy.

"Cum for me, Lockhart!"

"Ahh! Ray!"

She shattered. Her orgasm was violent. Her entire body seized up, her muscles contracting so hard I thought she might crush me. She screamed my name, a long, raw sound that tore from her throat.

I followed her over the edge. I slammed into her womb, holding myself there as I poured my seed into her. It was a massive release, fueled by the aggression and the sheer physical demand of her body.

We stayed there for a long minute, me pinning her to the desk, her legs locked around me, both of us panting like we’d just gone ten rounds.

Tifa dropped her head back onto the scattered papers. Her hair was a mess, her chest was heaving, and a wide, delirious smile was plastered across her face.

"Okay," she wheezed, patting my shoulder weakly. "You win."