Kevin tries to fight and fails

Kevin lunged forward with a snarl—too slow. The Taser's prongs struck his chest with a sickening crackle, dropping him to his knees. Mitchell cuffed his wrists to the chair's metal legs in one fluid motion, leather straps biting into flesh as Kevin gasped through clenched teeth. "Federal offense," Mitchell reminded him cheerfully, patting the Taser now holstered at his hip. "Now strip. Both of you."

Emily's fingers trembled at her blazer buttons as Mitchell loomed behind her, his breath hot on her nape. The order came again, lower this time—a threat wrapped in bureaucracy. Kevin’s ragged inhale filled the silence as Emily's skirt pooled at her feet, her lace-trimmed bra the last barrier between her and Mitchell's hungry stare. "On his lap," the agent directed, nudging her toward the chair where Kevin sat rigid, shame and fury warring in his expression.

Kevin’s breath hitched as Emily's bare thighs pressed against his lap. His body betrayed him shamefully—the swell of his cock thickening against her hip as Mitchell loomed behind them, fingers tracing her neck with deliberate slowness. Emily's whimper vibrated through Kevin’s chest where their skin met, her tears dripping onto his collarbone as she arched away from Mitchell's touch only to press closer to Kevin’s unwanted arousal.

The air in the security room thickened with the scent of sweat and lavender sachets as Kevin’s cock twitched against Emily’s inner thigh—now fully erect despite his clenched jaw.

Mitchell’s grin turned feral as he palmed a bottle of clear gel from his utility belt, the label reading CONDUCTIVE SECURITY SCREENING AID in bold letters. "Regulations require full-body contact scans," he lied, squeezing a dollop onto Kevin’s rigid length before Emily could protest. The cool slickness made them both gasp—her thighs instinctively clamping around him as Mitchell’s fingers accidentally brushed her clit through the mess. "Oops," he murmured, not sounding sorry at all.