You’re intrigued

You are intrigued enough that the mug stays forgotten in your hand. Ruby sees it in your face and does not look away. The usual careful boundary the two of you have always kept, the one that made her feel almost like a sister, thins to nothing in the quiet kitchen.

“I mean exactly what it sounds like,” she says, voice low and steady. “You are walking around this office hard and frustrated because your wife will not touch you and Cheryl keeps winding you up for sport. I am offering to take care of it. Properly. Hands, mouth, whatever you need to get it out of your system so you can think straight again. No games. No crystals. No performance review hanging over it. Just me, somewhere private, taking that thick cock of yours and working it until you are empty and calm.”

She lets the words settle, then continues, more specific now that she has started.

“I have thought about it. More than once. After the staff socials when you talked about how long it had been, after I watched you adjust yourself under the desk when Cheryl leaned over you. I am athletic. I can take it. I want to take it. I want to feel the weight of it in my hand, then in my mouth, then inside me if that is what it takes to get you there. I want to hear what you sound like when someone is actually willing. My husband is polite and average and never needs me like that. You need it. I can give it.”

Ruby’s cycling-toned body is close enough that you can feel the warmth of her arm against yours. Her eyes stay on yours, cheeks faintly coloured but voice completely clear.

“We could use an empty meeting room. Or my car. Or you could come to mine tonight while he is away. I would lock the door, get on my knees, and suck you until your legs shook. Then I would bend over and let you fuck the frustration out of both of us for as long as you needed. Hard. Deep. No holding back because I am not made of glass and I am not going to complain about the size. I would take every inch and ask for more until you finished so hard you forgot Cheryl’s name for the rest of the day.”

She reaches past you for her own mug, the movement deliberate, her breast brushing your arm, and when she speaks again the offer is even plainer.

“You are already hard just listening to this. I can tell. So stop pretending the only options are another cold shower or letting Cheryl keep under your skin. Let me handle it. Hands-on. Tonight. Or right now if you can find ten minutes and a locked door. Your choice. But I am not going to pretend I have not been thinking about stretching my mouth around that cock and swallowing everything you give me.”

The kitchen stays silent except for the soft click of the cooling coffee machine. Ruby’s words hang in the air, explicit and unashamed, and the thick, insistent weight of your cock presses hard against the front of your trousers, fully rigid, the same unfinished ache from the bathroom stall now sharpened into something almost painful by the open, detailed promise of what she is willing to do.